#Flooded Garden II Au

[luc1d-dr34m5]

Flooded Garden Steve Cobs humanized lets go i love putting this man in Situations

oh yeah btw the au's main focus is Oc(Dandy Dandelion) x Canon(Steve Cobs from II)

FG au but if they were Capitalist 4 Capitalist

Okay so hiding this under here bc TW: Eyestrain, Hallucination

"Do you not love me, Darling?"

#Flooded Garden II Au #FG Steve cobs #Steve cobs #ii Steve cobs #ii au #Dandy Dandelion(OC) #oc x canon #TW eyestrain #Eyestrain #TW Hallucination #Hallucination #just to be safe

[barefoothighlander]

the vow - ii

summary: you’re betrothed to the future king of Guilder and a fearsome knight is assigned to protect you. medieval au

knight!simon ‘ghost’ riley x princess!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), age gap, violence, arranged marriage, infidelity, mention of alcohol, harassment

prev part masterlist

You wake the next morning to the sound of voices outside your doors, loud chattering filling the air as the morning breeze drifts through the windows, you stand from your bed throwing on your dressing robe and crossing the room, you reach to open the heavy doors but are forced back as they open from the other side.

“Princess” Simon says as if he was shocked to see you,

“Simon, what’s going on”

“M’lady, we must get you ready” Clarice pushes through the doors, drifting past you as you stand in a state of confusion, turning back to face Simon who had been staring at you the whole time.

“You need not keep my maids out Simon”

“Apologies M’lady I”

You cut him off “My lady”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Low borns say, M’lady, you are a knight now, you use the proper, My lady”

“Of course My lady, my mistake” He bows his head, pulling his arm from the door and resting it by his side,

“Make haste Princess, we have little time” Clarice calls from across the room, you turn to her nodding before sparing Simon a glance and closing the door, you can hear the breath he releases through the wood, the sound of his armour clattering as he rests against the stone wall.

You make your way towards your maid, “What is going on?” 

“The Prince has requested your presence in the gardens” Her voice is giddy as he sits you down, fussing with your hair.

“The gardens?”

“Isn’t it lovely”

“He hates the gardens”

“Aye but you love them”

“Yes, I do, is he so intent on ruining everything”

Her eyes widen “Don’t speak like that child, heaven forbid anyone else hear you” 

“Yes how terrible that would be” You respond, your tone laced with sarcasm

You sit for a few minutes while Clarice fixes your hair, helping you up to fit you into your dress, murmuring quiet apologies as she tightens your corset.

“It’s not enough they force me to stay in this castle, he must force the air from my lungs with this torture device” Your hands run over the boning of the corset,

“He just wants you to look perfect, and you do” She runs a soft hand over your cheek, “Now come, the Prince is waiting”

You huff a strangled breath, crossing the room to exit, Simon's frame lurking in the corner of your eye as you exit the room, the shuffling of his armour loud behind you as he follows you through the halls.

“You need not follow me everywhere, I am perfectly safe within the walls”

He doesn’t respond but keeps in pace with you five feet behind, you stop abruptly, turning to him as he freezes,

“I mean it, I have enough eyes on me already”

“May I speak freely My lady” His eyes stare straight ahead

“If you must”

He takes a breath, turning his gaze to you, your body suddenly nervous under his stare,

“The people in this castle hold allegiance to the Prince, not you”

“I am to marry the Prince, they are loyal to me”

“They are loyal to Guilder”

His words connect in your mind, your face dropping in realization, “And I am the enemy of Guilder”

“I swore an oath to protect you, not the crown”

“Very well” You nod, turning on your heel and walking down the halls.

You stand at the entrance to the gardens, the familiar greenery flooding your vision, the guards at the archway bow their heads addressing you, letting you pass. In the light it’s easier to find your way to the centre, the twisting vines and bushes of flowers leading the way, the sound of the Prince's voice echoing throughout the maze, guiding you.

“My love” He shouts, one arm extended towards you while the other nurses a cup of wine,

“My Prince” You curtsey, avoiding his stare,

“How are you this morning?” He’s drunk already

“Very well thank you, and yourself”

“Wonderful” He moves toward you, stumbling slightly over a rock, his eyes move upwards following Simon’s frame, “You’ve brought your guard”

“Of course, he is rather quiet, you won’t notice he’s there”

“He’s hard to miss” He raises his eyebrows, having to force his neck upwards to view Simon's face, “He hasn’t addressed me”

You bite your tongue to hold back any words, simply allowing the men to exchange formalities as Simon bows, the Prince grins, turning back to face you.

“Now, we have much to discuss” He urges you towards a set of chairs beside the fountain, you follow him sitting down, trying to find a position that doesn’t have your dress digging into your ribs as he begins to talk.

“The wedding plans are nearly complete, there are just a few more variables to take care of”

“What variables”

“Well as you know there just simply is not enough room for more people”

“You mean the people of Flourin”

“I do, however by request of my Father, the King of Flourin shall attend”

Your eyes light up, sitting up to make sure you heard him properly, “My father should be there?”

“Yes, something about tradition and the passing of ownership”

“Ownership?”

He looks at you like you’ve asked a ridiculous question, “Yes, he will be passing you to me, you will be under my control”

Your throat dries, the thought never occurred to you that even post marriage you’d have no freedom, assuming that your role as Queen would be more active,

“Yes, of course,” You sit back in your chair,

“And the matter of housing”

“We won’t live in the palace?”

“Gods no, I will live in the palace, you will remain safe at Croft House” The cottage?”

“Yes”

“Should the Queen not live somewhere, proper”

“There is no need, you will come to the palace to perform your wifely duty and then return to your home”

“My wifely duty?”

“Producing an heir, Gods has no one explained your position to you?”

“Apologies my Prince, of course, I must just be tired”

“Nonetheless, you will be escorted there after our wedding night”

The thought plays through your mind, surely there were worse fates than living alone, you never wanted to marry the man but the thought of living separate lives disagreed with you, being locked away in a newer, smaller home stung.

“If that is all, I have things to attend to,” He says

“Yes my Prince” You stand, giving him a curtsey before walking away, you brush past Simon who watches you quietly, following behind you at a quick pace as you make your way out of the gardens.

“To your room Princess?”

You stop in front of the doors to the palace, the idea makes your stomach turn, sitting in your room for the rest of the day while the world goes on outside your door.

“No” You turn, pacing forward past the doors, Simon glances around, trying to figure out what’s going on before following you,

“Princess where are you going”

“I'm not sure”

“Truly, we must get inside”

“Then take me inside” You turn to him, standing sternly as you shrug your shoulders, “What will you do? Will you throw me over your shoulder and haul me past the doors, what would the staff say?”

“Princess” He warns

“Seeing as you aren’t going to do that, and you insist on following me, let us go”

Simon turns behind himself to check for guards, sighing before walking forward, making his way to the stables alongside you. You enter the barn, the walls lined with stalls of horses, the stone floor scattered with hay, you check the room for anyone before approaching one of the horses, reaching a soft hand up slowly to pet its nose, smiling when it accepts your touch.

“Do you mean to ride my lady?”

“I haven’t been able to in a long while” Your eyes are focused on the animal in front of you, its blonde hair tussling as it turns its head, Simon appears by your side.

“Remove your armour”

“Princess”

“It is loud, and dark, if we mean to be quiet your appearance will give us away”

“My lady”

“You may keep your sword if you insist, the rest goes, come on”

You enter the stall, checking around the horse while Simon reluctantly peels his armour off, the clanging on the pieces spooking the horse slightly, forcing you back a step. You move to reach for the saddle when large arms reach over yours, grabbing it from its spot and hoisting it into the air, you turn to him, he’s close enough that if you breathe your chest will touch, craning your neck to glance at his face.

He’s large even without the armour, his broad form not in full view, you hitch your breath slightly as your eyes move down towards his chest, his collarbones peaking out from below his shirt, the close distance allowing you to make out littered scars on his skin, your eyes following the pink lines, you twitch your hand, wanting to trace them.

“Princess”

He pulls your attention back to him, you release a breath, dragging yourself from your thoughts before stepping back, allowing him to place the saddle on the horse, you watch his arms flex as he tightens the straps around the animal, pulling them tight before backing up.

You step forward, bracing your weight to pull up onto the horse before strong hands grip your waist, lifting you with ease onto the saddle, the action surprising you, his touch makes your skin hot, you lock eyes with him, he looks like a different person without the weight of his armour, less beast and more human.

“Are you alright?” His voice breaks your trance, pulling your gaze from him shyly,

“Yes, thank you”

He nods, moving from the stall to saddle his own horse before mounting up,

“You’ll follow me”

“You know where you’re going?”

“I walked these fields for weeks, Princess, do you trust me?”

You think for a moment, about all the consequences if you’re caught but the idea of freedom reigns, “I do.”

He digs his heel into the belly of his horse, signalling it to move and you do the same, following closely behind him, you trot your horse down a small gravel path, hidden by a line of trees before stopping at a clearing. The land is vast and green, with nothing in front of you except the sun as you stare, Simon meets your side,

“It’s beautiful,” You say, you stare focused on the horizon

“It is” He isn’t watching the sun, his head is turned to you, the orange light painting your skin in a warm glow.

Without thinking you thrash your reigns, settling forward in your saddle as your horse begins galloping down the field, Simon yells to you to slow down but the wind passing your ears drowns him out, the wind on your skin feels too good as you rush across the grass, the trees passing by your side.

You turn back to find Simon but he’s gone, you laugh lightly to yourself at the prospect of outrunning him, finally free of anyone's eyes, you’re shocked back to reality when your horse bucks into the air, your hands struggling to grab at the reigns to steady yourself.

Your efforts prove futile, the force of the animal throwing you from its back as you land in the dirt, the air knocked from your lungs, you look up in a daze, the voices of two men filling your ears as they stand over you.

Their armour gleams in the sunlight, their blue capes swishing by your frame,

“You shouldn’t be out here Princess” He extends an arm for you to take, pulling you from the ground as your palms brush the dirt from your dress, you face the men, clad in their armour as you peer around for any signs of your own knight, you’re defenceless.

“The Prince will want you back in your room” One of their hands grabs your arm, tugging you towards their horse,

“The Prince need not concern himself with my activities”

“Apologies my lady but we’re under strict orders to keep you inside”

“And what about my orders?” You yank your arm from his grip

“We don’t take orders from you” The other man steps closer behind you, forcing your body forward, caging you between the men,

“Best get going” The men box you against the horse, your eyes dart around in panic as your back collides with the side of the horse, forcing a whinny from the animal.

“I suggest you back away” A shadow is cast over you, turning to see him, he’s blocking the sun, his form appearing dark as he sits on his horse.

“Princes orders, run off low-born”

Simon wastes no time drawing his sword, pointing towards the men who reach for their own weapons, “I will escort the Princess back”

The men stand off for a second, staring each other down, Simon holds stern, his dark gaze pinning the men down.

“Very well” They move their hands from their side, stepping back, you rush toward Simon who extends a hand to you, grabbing yours and pulling you onto his horse, you settle behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as your heart races, he sheaths his sword, moving his hands back to the reigns before signalling the horse to move.

The horse gallops quickly, your body clings to Simon for safety, your fingers digging into his flesh as you rest your cheek on his back.

“Princess”

His words pass through your ears,

“Princess?”

You pull back from him, sitting up, “You left me”

“I was right behind you”

“No, I looked, you weren’t there”

“I was” He steps off the horse, extending a hand to you, “They would’ve-” You stop yourself, your chest hollow at the thoughts floating in your mind.

“I would never let them touch you” Hi hand steadies on your waist, helping you off the saddle as he watches your eyes, “No one will ever hurt you, my lady”

His gaze is intense, your body nervous under his stare, you pull yourself back from his grip blinking at him, “I will see you soon Ser” You exit the stables quickly, making your way to your room where you slam the door, bracing yourself against it as tears prick your eyes, you’d never felt so vulnerable, what started as a taste of freedom was quickly squashed by the Prince's ever-present control over you, everywhere you go he has eyes, you are never alone.

Night falls over the palace, the candles in your room are the only source of light as the shadows loom in the dark corners, the air outside is cool, the breeze washing in from the windows has goosebumps forming on your skin as you sit in your bed, alone with your thoughts, you were to be married in three days, moved to a new home where you’d be confined to a life of solitude, even from your husband the idea made you feel hollow, the prospect of having no one beside you, to comfort or entertain you.

The hours pass quietly in your room, you stay sitting up, restless, knowing that even if you tried sleep would not come, you watch the moon arc through the sky, rather ironic you think, the moon so often spoke about as a partner of the sun and yet they rarely ever meet, two forces destined to be together but kept apart by unseen forces. You’re pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a quiet knock on your door, the sound concerning considering how late it was, you don’t think to cover yourself, assuming it was Clarice you stride towards the entrance, pulling open the heavy doors.

“Is something wrong?” You look into the hall for any sign of commotion before settling your gaze on Simon, he seemed nervous, a new sight considering he was always confident in himself. “Is something wrong Simon?”

“I do not believe so my lady”

“So why have you woken me?”

“I did not believe you to be asleep”

You open your mouth to speak but stop yourself, turning your gaze to the floor for a moment, “Well I was not”

“Are you not tired?”

“Unfortunately sleep does not come easy to me”

“I understand all too well”

You give him a weak smile, “Why did you knock?”

“I wanted to apologize”

“For what?”

“For making you feel unsafe”

“It was not you that worried me, Simon”

“Yes but if I had been there from the start I-”

You cut him off, “You need not worry about it, it is forgotten”

He nods lightly, “Do you still trust me?” He looks at you sheepishly

“With my life”

He fights the smile that threatens his cheeks, thinking for a moment before looking down the halls, checking for guards, “Might we go for a walk?”

Your smile fades, “I am not allowed out”

“I assure you Princess, no one will see us” He extends a gloved hand toward you, without thinking you take it in yours, following behind him as he navigates the hallways, making sure to remain undetected. You fight the giggles that bubble in your chest, your heart thudding in your ears as you twist down corridors and rush downstairs, you arrive at one of the servant doors, Simon opening it for you to step out, breathing in the aroma of the gardens, the flowers and night air flooding your lungs as you clothes your eyes.

A strong gust of wind blows by and you’re suddenly aware of your lack of clothes, the only thing separating your skin from the air is a thin nightgown, you fold your arms over your chest, your fingers rubbing your skin, Simon notices your state, his arms reaching behind his back to unclip his cape, wrapping it around your shoulders. Your senses are invaded by his scent, his hands are apprehensive to pull back, allowing your fingers to settle on top of his as you pull the cape tight around your chest, his gaze softening as you look at him, a silent thank you in your smile.

“Will you take me to the gardens?”

He pulls his hands from yours, placing them back at his sides “Not tonight Princess, the Prince has guards posted around the palace”

“Where shall we hide?” Your tone is playful, it amuses him, a light chuckle coming from his lips, the noise making you bite back a smile, you’d never seen him genuinely joyful, always a sour look on his face as he stood guard.

“Come with me” He walks forward, leading you as you trail behind, your nerves giddy as you sneak around the palace walls, Simon peeks his head around corners, checking for guards before turning back to you, giving you the okay to proceed.

You walk for a few minutes, through bunches of trees, and down small hills, Simon’s hand is always there to guide you in the dark, he shields you with his body anytime he hears a rustle, making your way further from the palace. You walk for what feels like an hour, turning back the glow of the candles in the palace windows are your only indicator of distance, watching the lights fade as you continue to walk.

“Just past this tree line”

You quicken your pace, catching up to him as he guides you through the trees, pulling back stray branches to allow you through, there's a small clearing ahead, a pond illuminated by the moonlight, the gleam in the water sparkles, your hands drop the cape from your back, your legs carrying you towards the water.

You look down into the pond, catching your reflection before you realize that there’s no noise, you turn to Simon who moves closer to you, darting your focus around the small forest, you hear nothing, no bugs or animals, not even the wind.

“It’s silent?”

“It is”

“How did you come upon this place?”

“I like to be outside when I cannot sleep, I found the pond a few weeks ago, I come here to think”

“To think? About what?”

He hesitates with his answer, trying to choose his words, “My family, mostly”

“I think about my family often as well, I am sorry that yours are gone” Your eyes are sincere as they move up to look at his.

“Yes well, it is a long time now”

“Do you miss them terribly?”

He lets out a deep breath, “Everyday”

You watch him for a moment, an air of understanding between the two of you, turning back to glance at the pond, “Thank you for showing me this”

“We get very few things of our own in this life, it is nice to share what I have with someone I-” He cuts himself off, stumbling over his words for a moment, “Care about”

Your attention is drawn toward the sky, streaks of light flashing in your sight, “Shooting stars” You gasp, turning to Simon for a moment, “Make a wish”

You watch the lights fly by you, their glow illuminating the sky for just brief seconds, “What did you wish for Simon” You smile turning to him,

“I thought that if I told you, it will not come true”

“Superstition, I wished to be free”

“You are free Princess” 

“This is not freedom, this is rebellion, very different Ser” 

“Careful Princess, wouldn’t want to be branded treasonous”

“I am Flourin, by birth I am treasonous” You laugh

“Very well, two rebels we shall be”

“Two rebels” You nod, giggling to yourself

“Come now, we should return to the palace”

“A few more minutes I beg”

He tilts his head, watching you scrunch your face at him, crossing his arms over his chest before nodding, you smile wide, even in the dark he can make out the gleam in your eye as you look at him, he wishes he could stare into them forever, watching you turn and run around the pond.

He sits against a large tree, its leaves cascading around him, settling in piles around his form as he watches you explore the terrain, he can’t help but smile at your fascination with the plants, he lets you wander for a while, just watching you.

The sun peaking over the horizon catches your attention, alerting you to the time as you turn and face Simon, he looks so relaxed like he belongs there, his eyes are glued to your form as you run towards him, throwing yourself to the ground beside him in a fit of joy.

“It has been too long since I have seen flowers that are not blue or green”

“The pink ones are peony” He points towards the bush of pink flowers, “Those orange ones, marigolds” You turn towards the bundle of bright orange and yellow, the rising sun paints the area in a glow of warm colours, the new heat warming your skin as you follow his line of sight.

“What about those dark ones,” You say, pointing towards a sprouting of dark red, almost black flowers.

“Dahlias, they say that those are a symbol of love and devotion, perhaps the Prince might pick you some”

“Perhaps the Prince would pick me a bundle of hemlock and claim ignorance” You huff

“Are you truly so miserable my lady?”

“I do not know, sometimes I feel lucky to be given this life, other times I wish I was anybody else, allowed to exist on my own accord”

“You have no friends at court?” “I have you” You hug your legs to your chest, grinning at him,

“I am your knight, not your friend”

“Can you not be both?” He shakes his head lightly, standing from his spot, “Let us get you back before someone notices I have kidnapped the future Queen”

You stand, brushing the dirt from your dress before moving forward to pick up Simon’s cape from the ground, tugging it around your form and following him towards the palace, walking in silence together as the sun slowly rises higher into the sky, lighting your path.

#cod mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #mw2022 #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost fluff #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #call of duty mwii #simon riley smut #cod x reader #simon ghost riley angst #simon riley x you #ghost angst #call of duty

[theold-ultraviolence]

Two thoughts, both for the canondad!Aemond kids.

First, concerning the reader: we know how Aemond is with his kids and them courting/whatnot but what advice does she give? Does she have to give the awkward pre-wedding-night talk? Does she catch Aegon trying to take Aeron to the Street of Silk and how exactly does she strangle her brother-in-law when it happens? Does Vaella go to ask her questions before her wedding about if Aemond’s injury ever bothered her (since Vaella has now also lost an eye)

Connecting to the lost eye and going back to Aemond. I can totally see him trying to help her with her prosthetic. She wants one as quickly as possible after everything happens and he’s having to hold her back because she’ll hurt herself. Then when she can finally get it he teaches her how to put it in/take it out and keep us safe/clean and just Them BondingTM over it would probably be so devastating but also healing for both of them.

'How exactly does she strangle her brother-in-law' ldkfjskjglkj I love this. Thank you so much for your interest in my silly little au!! I'm happy that this is the second time I'm asked about the reader in this situation. I feel like it's easier for all to enjoy dad!Aemond and we often forget about the counterpart! The following hcs follow these previous ones about Aemond's children courting, but now these will be centered around the reader. I'm also gonna include Vaella's missing eye which is a reference to this drabble.

Aemond's children: courting headcanons, part II. part I

Elaena:

As we know, the one who won Elaena's hand in combat against her, was her childhood friend, to Elaena's secret relief, as she had been burying all the pining she felt for him underneath her armors.

But Muña always knew. You saw the spark between the two children ever since they were very young, playing together in the gardens and later training together. You felt immense ease knowing that your eldest daughter would be loved as she deserved, that she wouldn't be married off to a stranger.

But, that's the thing. Elaena isn't marrying a stranger, she's marrying her friend. Unlike with some other lord, Elaena loves this man, so suddenly, all these intrusive thoughts about her being a disappointing wife flood her mind.

That her husband will only see her as a friend and never really desire her, and that being betrothed will mean that their friendship will suffer.

All of those thoughts are rushing through Elaena's nervous self the second the arrangement is made, so she goes to you.

"But, muña, he's my best friend. He only sees me as such. Someone to train and ride horses with. He sees me as a child with dirt-stained dresses and hair sticking out of my braids. How could he ever desire me?"

You just chuckle and shake your head, taking Elaena in your arms as you sit together by the fireplace. "My darling, has he ever actually said any of this to you?" Elaena ponders for a moment and shakes her head. "Well then, who's to say that the things that are going through your mind aren't going through his? he's probably just as worried as you are." Elaena just looks down at her lap, fidgeting with her fingers.

"Elaena, look at me. Do you desire him?" She nods without a second thought. "Well, chances are, he does too. The way I see it, your arrangement is ideal, my dear. Who would make a better lover, a better husband, than one who already knows you so intimately? One who is your friend? this is but the next step in your relationship, a new layer of yourselves you are about to discover together."

Elaena then takes a deep breath before looking up at you again, "Muña...will it hurt?" Elaena needn't say more.

"At first, yes. But it will feel good after a moment. He'll have to be patient and gentle, which I've no doubt he will, but if there is ever a moment where you feel discomfort or pain, you need to say it."

Still, Elaena appears nervous, and it occurs to you that this is the first time you've seen her this anxious. Suddenly she had become a little girl again; she wasn't even this afraid when she rode on Vaghar with Aemond for the first time. For someone who'd built herself to be indestructible, Elaena rarely dared to show anyone how vulnerable she felt sometimes.

"Elaena, do you love him?" you gently frame her face with your hands as she nods. "Does he love you?" again, she nods. "Then it will feel amazing. It's not about technique or prowess, it's about who you're with. I've seen the way you look at each other, my darling girl. You have nothing to worry about. But if things take a turn, you know you can always come to me or your kepa. We will always be there, even if you feel like you can protect yourself. You're not alone."

The day of the wedding is absolutely beautiful. Both you and Aemond are overcome with melancholy from seeing your little girl turned into a beautiful woman. But you can breathe when you see the amount of love pouring from Elaena and her husband's eyes, the way they can't stop holding onto their hands for the rest of the celebrations.

After the wedding, you don't see Elaena for an entire week.

At first Aemond and you were worried, but when you went to their apartments to enquire, Elaena's lady-in-waiting assured you that there was absolutely nothing to worry about and that the princess and her new lord husband had ordered for the staff to not disturb them until further notice.

Vaella

Vaella losing her eye was like, an au of my au lol, but now I'm rolling with it. First, some thoughts Re: Aemond and Vaella bonding over keeping up her prosthetic eye.

As soon as she healed, she asked Aemond if she could have a sapphire eye to match his. Aemond felt a mix of pride and also regret because, he was honored she'd want to wear a symbol to forever connect her to him, but he also hates the fact that she has to.

Aemond keeps telling her that she can have her own sapphire eye, but she'll have to wait. Aemond would want to scout for the prettiest one - bigger than his own, for Vaella's eyes are bigger than his - and even more perfect in its cut.

So Aemond takes his time in looking, even asking if she'd want something else to replace the sapphire, but Vaella is adamant.

And so unlike her, she begins to feel a little bit desperate.

Her betrothed has been informed of her accident; the message had been sent to him all the way to the north as soon as Vaella was healing. He replied immediately, telling her that he'd go to the Red Keep as soon as possible.

And Vaella doesn't want to be seen like this, bedridden and weak.

She starts getting anxious and restless, chewing on her lip and staring at the window, dreading the arrival of her betrothed. It was so unlike her. It's made worse when Aemond finally arrives with the perfect sapphire but tells Vaella she'll have to wait for a little longer or else she'll hurt herself more. Her wound still needs a little bit more time, and she has to put on her prosthetic with patience and care.

Her betrothed arrives before she has the chance to put it on.

She's weakly waiting for him in the halls of the Red Keep, holding onto her muña's arm for support - both physical and emotional. For now, she's only wearing a white cotton eyepatch, with some pretty embroidered details on the edges.

"He hasn't seen me like this, what if he dislikes me now? who would want me like this?"

"Vaella Targaryen, stop that nonsense." You tell her. "Has your father's lack of an eye made you love him less? Have you ever seen me recoil from him because of it?"

"No...but he...he's kepa. And I'm just me..."

"Stop it, child. You are beautiful. Your family loves you and your betrothed will. If he does not, then he is not suited for you and we'll make sure to dismiss him at once."

"Muña...? can I ask you something?"

"Did you ever feel weirded out by Kepa? did...did it hurt him? you know...during...I'm just afraid. I'm afraid of how it will feel when I'm with him...I'm afraid of it hurting, or him feeling repulsed by me."

You laugh and look at her with nothing but love and conviction.

"My darling, it has never repulsed me. It's just another part of your kepa, something that makes him, him. Another part of him to love. And if your betrothed loves you the way I love your father, you'll feel safe and wanted. It won't hurt you, as long as he's careful with you. Your father has never been hurt when we're intimate, and it's a matter of constantly making sure he's comfortable and him not exerting himself. Communication is key, my sweet."

Vaella's pondering over your words stops, for in comes her betrothed, still donning all of his lavish, heavy furs despite the heat in King's Landing. He seems out of breath as he rushes inside the hall, and runs the moment he spots Vaella. Vaella weakly lets go of your hand and meets him halfway, as he embraces her in a tight hug.

"Careful of her injury." You solemnly command, a bit weary of the man being rude to Vaella. But your heart eases the moment his rough touch becomes gentle, as he frames Vaella's face delicately and looks at her with big, watery eyes, kissing the stretch of a scar that peaks from under her eyepatch.

"My light, my beautiful love" he murmurs into the side of her head as he hugs her, and Vaella melts into his embrace, clinging tightly to him.

After a few days, Aemond finally lets her put on the sapphire eye. Her betrothed wanted to be there for it, but Aemond had shot him with a death glare. This was a private moment between father and daughter.

Aemond cleans up the sapphire and washes his hands before sitting in front of Vaella, and very meticulously inserting the sapphire in her eye socket. As he does it, he tells her all about the procedure, how to keep the prosthetic clean, how to take it off, etc. "Did that hurt?"

"Only a little pinch." She says as she rolls her eyes to test out the feeling of the sapphire on her face. "Feels a little odd."

"You'll get used to it."

After that, Vaella's betrothed knocks on the door, looking very humbled, bowing to Aemond and asking for him to explain how to care for Vaella's eye. What they don't know is that his betrothed had spoken with you while they were inside, asking you the very same thing Vaella had. If she would get hurt, how to make her feel comfortable.

This immediately earned him a lot of points in your book, and you could sigh with relief over your daughter marrying someone as caring as he. So by the time the day of her wedding came, and Vaella kept getting flustered and nervous, you could only laugh fondly and continue to reassure her.

When Vaella gets married, she does so proudly displaying her new sapphire eye.

And the morning after, she sits at the table with a new air of confidence about her. A certain kind of glow as she sits beside her new lord husband, no longer shrinking her shoulders or sitting quietly.

Aeron

One night you hear some ruckus outside of yours and Aemond's apartments, and you instantly recognize the voices belonging to Aegon and your son, Aeron.

You grumble as you get out of bed, put on a robe, and step outside.

Aegon is shaking his nephew's shoulders, seeming already a bit tipsy as he whispers, "It is time, nephew! you do want to know how to please your soon-to-be lady wife, don't you!? I'm telling you the only way to know is to - "

"AEGON!" you shout, "what are you doing?"

"Giving the boy a pre-wedding gift, that's what!"

"Absolutely, no! Aeron I forbid you to go with your uncle! I know exactly what kind of gift he speaks of!"

Aeron just looks like he wants to laugh from how angry you look, yanking him away from his uncle, who's looking all stupefied by the fact that you had the nerve to yell at him the way you do.

"Come on, I only want what's best for the boy. Don't you want the same!?" Aegon keeps on slurring, and if your temperature wasn't running high, you'd laugh at the way he's staggering down the hall to keep up with you, as you take Aeron back to your rooms.

"Precisely. Which is why he's never to follow along your depraved ideas of gifts!"

You bring Aeron back to your rooms and shake his shoulders, "were you actually planning on following your uncle!?"

Aeron is just speechless, half scared of his mother, and half amused over the whole encounter.

"Well!? answer me, son!"

"No! Of course not!"

"Aeron Targaryen don't you ever take advice from your uncle about women, you hear me? you come straight to your father or me!"

"You?"

You just look at him as if he's grown another head. "What's wrong with that!?"

"No offense, mother, but that would be so embarrassing..."

You roll your eyes and sigh, half understanding of Aeron's hesitance but also frustrated. "Fine, don't talk to me then, but please, talk to your father. Unlike your uncle, your father knows how to treat a woman properly."

Internally you laugh at the face Aeron makes, cringing at the implications.

"I promise, muña...”

"Go back to sleep then! this isn't a proper hour for a prince to be up!"

Time passes and Aeron finally gets married. And it seems as though his lady wife was as hard to figure out in the bedroom, as she was while Aeron first began courting her.

The first few times the both of them came down to dine with the family, Aeron had this defeated aura surrounding him. You never brought it up to either Aemond or Aeron himself, but you knew.

Each day that passed he looked more and more lost inside his head, wandering aimlessly around the halls. Often he opened his mouth and looked as though he was about to ask you something but quickly refrained.

One evening over a shared cup of tea, you finally decide to ask.

"How has it been with your lady wife? Have you settled into marital life well, my love?"

Aeron remains quiet, eying his cup of tea for an eternal moment until he takes a deep intake of breath and spills all his worries in one go.

"Muña, I -" "I'm a bit lost and I'm too embarrassed to ask kepa. I don't want to disappoint him. But I..."

You're just smiling, ever so patient with your son.

"I just don't know what I'm doing! what do I do!? I can't seem to figure out how to...how to, um...please my lady wife..."

"What did I tell you?" you couldn't help it. You just had to throw that to him, but all in good nature. He sighs and slumps on his seat, covering his eyes in shame. But you discard your tea and rise to take a seat beside him, taking his hands away from his face.

"Don't worry, my love. I never ever wish to make you feel uncomfortable, nor do I ever want you to feel like there are things we cannot discuss. You can talk to me about anything and everything. Now, what's this I hear about your lady wife? what seems to be the problem?"

Aeron eases from your kind words and then proceeds to vent out his feelings. He confesses that he feels awkward, regardless of how much he loves her. That all the things he's overheard from other young lords or even Aegon himself just don't seem to bring her any pleasure.

"Don't think about what you're supposed to do. Think about her, first and foremost. Think about her pleasure. Ask her to show you, and if she doesn't know herself, you can discover it together. It's all about patience. Also, nobody arrives at it already knowing. It is a never-ending learning curve. Bodies change, and people change. There is always something new to discover about the other. Always remember, intimacy is not an act or a demonstration of your manhood. It's something to enjoy, and to show love."

Aeron embraces you afterward, feeling an immense weight lift from his shoulders.

Several moons pass, and one night, you're once again awakened by a ruckus coming from outside.

But when you go out to inspect, you stop dead in your tracks and rush back into your rooms immediately, burying yourself under the covers to drown out the noise.

It seems you had given Aeron some pretty amazing advice, and soon the entirety of the Red Keep would know about it.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #reader insert #fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen hcs #aemond targaryen headcanons #mother!reader #dad!aemond #headcanons #my writing #hotd #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #my oc: elaena targaryen #my oc: aeron targaryen #my oc: vaella targaryen #aemond's children

[sweetrevxnge]

Ghosts In The Snow

Chapter Five

Pairing: Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader AU

Summary: Six long years had passed under the reign of the First Order. The bitter winters grew longer, and as they did, hope faded from the hearts of the citizens of Hosnian Prime. As a lieutenant in the Resistance cavalry, it was your duty to nurture that ember of hope. After a mission takes an unexpected turn, you are taken prisoner by a commander in the First Order, a mysterious man with an insatiable appetite—for violence, power, and you. In the coming days, you must keep the spark of your own hope alive from the dark confines of the Commander's castle.

Warnings: sexual content, violence, blood kink, gore, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Spotify Playlist

Word count: 3k

Chapter-specific CW: compulsion, light emotional manipulation (but it's ok bc he's a hot vampire)

A/N: "how am I supposed to live laugh love under these conditions?" -y/n to kylo probably

───────── ❅ 🦇 ❅ ─────────

“After you, my dear.”

The threshold of the doorway was all that stood between you and the prospect of freedom. Or at least, so you thought.

Moonlight peaked through the dark clouds above, flooding the spacious courtyard Ren had brought you to with silver light. Disappointment sank through you like a stone—not that you were expecting him to loosen your invisible lead enough to allow you to roam an open area of the castle’s property. All things considered, this was generous.

Tentatively, you stepped out into the night, disregarding your lack of footwear as you followed the ivory tiles lining the path. Short, frostbitten hedges surrounded you, perfectly manicured despite their leaves being brittle and sparse. Snowflakes dusted the earth, falling like tiny, frozen kisses on your skin.

Woven throughout the foliage were dozens of rosebushes, their thorns now all that remained of their beauty. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the garden in bloom, with rays of sunlight bathing the roses until their petals unfurled, inviting bees to collect pollen from each colorful bundle. But spring had long since passed. The stems had morphed into skeletons, their wilted petals cracking under the blanket of frost. It was oddly beautiful; something that was once so vibrant, now faded and cold, preserved by winter’s embrace.

Around you stood the high walls of the castle, with elegant archways and stained windows. Everything felt venerable, even down to the footsteps immortalized in the tile from centuries of tread, aging the fortress well beyond the Empire’s rule. Judging by the weathered state of the walls encasing you, the castle was likely constructed during the Grand Republic’s reign, dating it beyond the past three hundred years. To think that there was a time when its halls had been occupied by diplomats—ones who placed the interests of the people above their own aspirations. Much like the garden, their memory had faded in the presence of the First Order.

You stopped in front of two black iron benches arranged in the center of the court. They accented the focal piece of the garden: a pond, sheathed by a layer of glistening ice. You pictured a family of ducks paddling through it in the summer, creating tiny ripples as they splashed the cool water onto their feathers. The irony of peace existing in a place of such violence.

“What do you think?” Ren asked behind you, joining you in observation of the frozen water.

Releasing a long breath, you answered bluntly, “It’s hard to say. Everything’s dead.”

He chuckled at your honesty. “Yes. But even now, there is a certain beauty to it, wouldn’t you agree?” He stepped closer, pressing his chest flush against your back, offering you no heat. There was nothing warm or soft about him. For all you knew, he was made of marble beneath the layer of black fabric—his body temperature suggesting as much.

You instinctively pulled away, turning to face him. Quick breaths passed through your lips, the wisps of vapor lingering in the air like ghosts. Ren was frightening and beautiful, making him the most dangerous kind of monster. Not the kind that mothers warned their children of through tales, hoping to deter them from venturing too far into the woods, but the kind that the ladies at court would gossip about. The handsome devil.

“From a certain point of view, I suppose,” you finally said, turning your back on him once again. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of agreeing—even if he had heard your inner dialogue earlier.

Ren walked alongside you as you continued to meander through the garden. Even the slightest brush of his arm made the hair on the back of your neck stand. Although, in fairness, the culprit could very well have been the winter air, too.

You considered making conversation with him, less because you were interested in what he had to say, but rather as a pleasantry in return for the change of scenery. When you opened your mouth to speak, you found that the words were lodged in your throat, impossible to push out. Perhaps it was the icy air burning your airway, or another force entirely. Regardless, you continued to walk in silence, sorting through your thoughts—as you suspected he was, too.

It seemed as if the tile path had transformed into shards of glass by the way your feet ached, each step sending a wave of pain through your nerves. Determined to stay outside as long as possible, you ignored it, slowing your pace to accommodate.

“You’re shivering,” Ren stated, as if you were somehow unaware of your chattering teeth.

“Yes, I know.”

“Would you like to go inside?”

You froze in place, but unlike in the forest, this was not his doing. He came to stand in front of you, tracing your face with eyes as black as obsidian.

“I doubt that decision is mine to make,” you countered. The illusion of free will—as if you weren’t trapped in this castle because of him.

“You would be dead if it weren’t for me.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Oh, yes, how could I forget? The man who slaughtered my entire squadron—my savior.”

His jaw tensed. “It’s not as if I was acting of my volition. I was merely protecting my men, keeping my oath. Surely that is something you can understand.”

Of course it was. But you had failed to do that, and now you would spend a lifetime being haunted by it.

“Enough,” you said, tearing your eyes away from him as you turned to face the withering garden. The frayed threads holding you together snapped, allowing the flood of emotions to pour in. As it did, you wondered if it would always be like this. Reminded of the carnage every time you laid eyes on him. Sentenced to a miserable existence with the man responsible for your nightmares.

A hand came to rest on your shoulder. You shuddered at the touch. “For what it’s worth, their deaths were wholly unnecessary.” There was a trace of remorse in his words, quickly replaced by his usual tone. “But such is the nature of war, my dear.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, biting your tongue before you could say anything else. When you opened them again, Ren was standing in front of you, close enough to hide the moonlight behind him. 

“Why did you do it?” Your voice cracked as you spoke, fighting desperately to hold back your frustration.

He furrowed his brows, confused by your question. “The Supreme Leader’s orders were clear–”

“No,” you snapped, a harsh edge replacing the weakness in your voice. “I mean, why did you capture me? How is it fair that I should be the only survivor, condemned to live out the rest of my days under your thumb?”

As soon as the words had left your mouth, you wished you could reach out and shove them back into the depths of your mind. He didn’t deserve to see you like this, brimming with raw emotion. It was a state you reserved only for those closest to you, those who you would likely never see again.

Ren was silent, stoic. In a moment like this, you wished you possessed his ability to probe minds. Instead of offering you an answer, he cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone and jaw, tracing a line as light as a whisper over your skin.

Immediately, the tension in your shoulders dissolved, washed away along with every concern occupying your mind. Despite his cool touch, warmth rose to your cheeks.

“Have you ever considered the possibility that this arrangement could liberate you in ways you’ve never imagined?” His voice was silky, falling on your ears like a symphony of angels. A soft cloud settled over you, eliciting a strange feeling within your chest as you gazed up at him, searching his black eyes for an answer to his question.

“I have not, my lord,” you whispered, the words leaving your tongue like a prayer.

Ren’s lips parted, revealing brilliant white teeth as he grinned, amused by your response. “Of course not. And why should you have? Such thoughts have no place in a mind as troubled as yours.” He swept his fingers over your cheek again, soothing you.

You nodded into his hand. The cold that gnawed at your fingers and toes was nothing more than a distant sensation, an ache quelled by his touch. He glanced down at your figure, frowning at the sight of your dress. In the time that the two of you had been standing outside, a light layer of snow had melted into the thin fabric of your gown, clinging to your skin. With deft fingers, he tied the strings of your cloak into a small knot and smoothed the fabric over your shoulders.

“Now, let’s go inside. I can’t have my bride freezing to death,” he said in a low tone, leaning closer to your lips. “Next time, I advise you to wear more fitting attire.”

Next time. Intoxicated by his words, you nodded in agreement, your eyes still fixed on his.

As if you were a sack of feathers, he hoisted you off the ground, holding you as he did in the forest. Only this time, there was no fear in your heart, no panic closing off your throat. With your hands clasped behind his neck, he carried you back into the castle, moving swiftly through the courtyard. Although the taste of freedom was dwindling with every step he took, you were content—almost pleased—to be returning to the safety of your chambers.

Your head felt as light as the cushions of the chaise lounge as Ren set you down upon it. The memory of where his hands had gripped you remained after he released you, leaving your skin tingling at each spot. In the darkness, it was nearly impossible to see him moving through your chambers, an issue remedied by a fire roaring to life in the hearth.

Satisfied with his work, Ren stood behind the sofa, peering down at you laying across it. Golden flames flickered in his eyes, softening his strong features. Your cloak had shifted, exposing more of your nightwear than you would’ve preferred. But you didn’t mind. In fact, you liked it—how the sleeves had fallen past your shoulders and the hem of the dress had gathered above your knees. You felt ethereal, basking in the glow radiating from the hearth. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d been this relaxed.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you relished the warmth spreading through your toes. “Who should I thank for starting this fire—you or your magic?” You made a vague gesture with your hands, wiggling your fingers as if you were casting a spell.

He chuckled quietly, moving to sit in the chair across from yours. “Neither. Thank the tinderbox that was left on the mantle.”

Propping yourself up with your elbow, you turned to face him, letting your dress drape over your hips. The knot at your neck loosened with every movement you made until you finally grew tired and pulled it free, shedding your cloak onto the sofa. Under any other circumstance, you would be scrambling to cover yourself. This was completely unlike you—to allow anyone other than your handmaid to see you like this. Harlot, your mother would say in her scolding tone, coupled with a scowl. But she wasn’t here—only Commander Ren.

“I find it hard to believe that you’re incapable of starting a fire, given everything else you can do.”

“Unfortunately, I was never any good at it,” he said, his eyes wandering to the golden flames. “Pyromancy, however, has always been one of my strongest suits.”

The conversation stalled for a moment as you watched his fingers glide over the armrest, hypnotized by the patterns he traced in the black velvet. His veins mingled with tendons as he moved—an intricate dance beneath his ivory skin. Somewhere deep within you, an ember flickered to life, its warmth spreading throughout your being. It was unusual, but not unwelcome.

“How can you do these things?” you asked, your voice floating through the air like the wisps of a dandelion.

He sighed, rolling his tongue over his teeth in thought. Finally, he said, “I was raised by witches.”

Your eyes widened—not in shock at his answer, but because he had answered at all. Rey’s words echoed in your mind. Commander Ren is a very private man.

“Witches? As in, multiple?”

He snickered softly. “Just two.”

“I see,” you whispered, watching him intently. There was something inherently alluring about him, an appeal that had drawn you in the instant you laid eyes on his portrait. An indescribable—yet persisting—quality. A charm.

After the success of your first question, you found the courage to pose another. “What were they like?”

A beat passed before he spoke, unease filling your stomach as you waited. The look in his eyes told you that your valiant effort was in vain. “What else did the handmaid tell you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his seat.

His words hit your chest like a thousand stones, shattering your confidence. Rey had warned you—begged you—to not discuss the matter of the Commander, fearing the consequences awaiting her if she did. Guilt crashed into you.

“Nothing. She said nothing else,” you stammered, pushing yourself up to a sitting position. With pleading eyes, you turned to him. “I swear it by all the gods.”

Ren stood to his feet, shushing you as he strode toward you. “There’s no need to call upon the gods, dear. I believe you.” His long fingers caressed your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his intense gaze. “I also believe that the girl is sensible enough to want to keep her head attached to her body. You asked her about me, didn’t you?”

Your heart slammed into your ribs, as if it were attempting to leap out and crawl into Ren’s hands. There was no use in arguing—he already knew the truth. The outcome of your fate depended on any ounce of respect you could earn from him. Lying now would be a disservice to everyone involved.

“Yes, I admit, I asked her to tell me what she knew of you, but she refused. It was only after I continued pressing the matter that she finally answered. Please, have mercy on her, she is innocent–”

He silenced you by pressing a finger against your lips. “If I beheaded every servant who spoke ill of me, the castle would be swept by ghosts.”

You said nothing, an unspoken understanding passing between you. While you believed him, there was also validity in Rey’s fear. Even the servant boy cowered in his presence. If one thing were true in this life, it was that rumors carried weight, and at times, merit.

“Why do they fear you so much?” you asked as his thumb brushed over your chin.

Ren let out a long sigh as he ran his fingers down your neck, pausing at your pulse point. “People fear what they do not understand.”

The air grew thick in the silence. A familiar sensation embraced you, igniting every fiber of your being under his touch. Much like the fire in front of you, the ember in your belly became an inferno. Your gaze fell to his pillowy lips, imagining what they would feel like against yours—what they would feel like on every inch of your skin. As soft as sin, probably. His eyes were coals, twinkling in the amber light, a tell that your thoughts were not as quiet as you had hoped.

“What do you fear most, darling?” he asked, his voice low and inviting. “I imagine that a woman like yourself doesn’t fear much, but everyone has their weakness.” He tilted your head slightly to the side, eyes wandering down your neck. “What is yours?”

Blood rushed in your ears, making you dizzy. Through the haze in your mind, a tiny voice broke through, begging you to resist him—resist the urge to bend to his will. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to barricade your thoughts, and as his eyes bore into yours, irises now a deep shade of red, his devilry won.

“Purpose.” The word passed through your lips like a specter, carrying a cadence that was foreign to your ears. “I fear a life without purpose.”

Satisfaction radiated off of Ren. “I see. And that is exactly why you were the only survivor.” He stretched his hand over your throat, applying gentle pressure to either side of your neck. The rhythmic drumming of your heart pulsed through his fingertips. “Because your purpose is so much greater than serving the Resistance.”

“What do you believe my purpose is, Commander?”

The backlight of the hearth cast a halo around him, deifying him. Ignoring your inquiry, he said, “The night is almost over. I suggest you get some rest.”

With that, he left you, somehow more cold and alone than you had been before. As the latch clicked shut, the haze lifted, quickly replaced by dread. Your vision tunneled on the fire in front of you, the black edges snuffing out your surroundings, narrowing your view to only the flames dancing over the logs.

As you stood from the lounge, your knees buckled, forcing you to summon all your strength to reach the bed before collapsing. Chest heaving, you stared up at the canopy, hoping to find anything but flecks of light dancing across your eyes. The voice in your head was shouting now, building to a deafening pitch, its message clear.

In the wake of his presence, two things remained: your distrust of Commander Ren and the strange warmth that had settled in your stomach.

#vampire kylo aka the light of my life #also im posting this right before my first night shift bc i really wanted to get into the vampire mindset #ben solo #ben solo x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x you #ben solo x fem!reader #ben solo x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars self insert #kylo ren smut #ben solo smut #my writing #vampire!kylo #vampire kylo #vampire kylo ren #medieval!kylo #medieval kylo ren #medieval ben solo

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

aquarium ii | kth

pairing(s): taehyung x reader; ex-jungkook x reader

summary: Life after Jeon Jungkook was grey. You had to find your own color, grow your own rainbow. But what would surprise you the most is the appearance of white cosmos, seven of them clutched tightly in Kim Taehyung’s hand.

warnings: reader discretion is advised: a (half-hearted) suicide attempt; mentions of cheating in previous relationship; language; heavy angst; fluffiest fluff; non-idol!AU; kind garden-loving landlord!Taehyung x reader; ft. sadboi!Jungkook

–

part i

-

now playing – without me by halsey ft. JUICE WRLD

tell me, how's it feel sittin' up there? feelin’ so high, but too far away to hold me

You couldn’t remember that night very well, because you didn’t come up.

The worst part about being cheated on was not the actual cheating. It was the moment where you thought you had done something wrong, like somehow it was your fault it happened, like if you hadn’t done this or that, maybe things would have been different. Maybe if you hadn’t chosen that night to snoop into Jeon Jungkook’s phone, he would have had second thoughts, deleted it all, and loved you again. Maybe if you were a little kinder, a little more attentive, he wouldn’t have fallen out of love with you. Maybe... Maybe.

Maybe.

You knew that was just your brain trying to rationalize his irrationality. You had done wrong by invading his privacy by acting on sheer gut feeling. And you had run away, without confronting it, without giving him a chance, because you knew, you knew that if you gave him a chance, you would believe all his words, get dragged back into his sea, back into those dangerous waters.

All these thoughts coursed through you as the water closed in.

The milky bathwater was slowly replacing your depleting air, leaking into your lungs and you didn’t fight it, turning the darkness of the underside of your eyelids into light, because deep down you still loved him, no matter how stupid or foolish it was. Your heart still clung to his soft, I’m sorry, and you didn’t want to hear it anymore.

You didn’t want to know what loving Jeon Jungkook was like anymore. It was too painful.

you know i'm the one who put you up there name in the sky, does it ever get lonely?

You gave everything so he could be what he wanted to be, not knowing that you were the one slowly being eroded. No one could tell you. You were the one who had to find the signs. You were the one who found yourself trapped in glass walls, stuck in an aquarium, surrounded on all sides by Jeon Jungkook as he made a mockery of your feelings.

You screamed into the water and no one heard you.

The next memory you had was hazy, barely there.

You felt a tightness in your chest, harsh, solid pressure. A frustrated, agonized voice above you, desperately calling your name in deep baritone, desperately asking you to come back, praying in every language he knew for you to come back, come back, please, please, please.

“Please…”

In the whiteness, you wandered. Were you meant to be here? It was a loose fog. You looked around, seeing traces of memory like torn book pages, slipping through the haze. You reached out to touch them and they disappeared, only mirages.

And then you fell, dragged into dark blue, torn, battered, lungs burning as you struggled to stay afloat, coughing hard, your muscles screaming with asphyxiation, sudden oxygen flooding your brain. You whipped your head to the side, hacking up water, spilling it all over the green tiles of the bathroom floor, head pounding. Thoughts swimming, barely computing the shouting above you.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” one voice growled above your jerking body, so venomous that it made your blood run cold. “You absolute disaster of a man, thinking for one fucking second she would even consider taking you back. Look at her! She’d rather drown herself in my damn bathtub than hold a conversation with you!”

“What the fuck do you know?” The familiar voice, the voice that haunted you in your nightmares, the voice that fed you sweet poison. “She would do anything for me! She worships the fucking ground I walk on!”

You curled up into a ball, head pounding by the sudden explosion of light and sound. There was a towel over you, covering your wet naked body, and yet you shivered. You barely registered Kim Taehyung snarling, rising to his feet.

“You narcissistic bastard,” Taehyung spat out. “Get the fuck out of my house. Get the fuck out and don’t ever come near her again or I’ll break your fucking neck.”

“You can’t do anything to me. You’re a nobody,” Jeon Jungkook taunted. “Unlike you, I actually have money to sue you for assault.”

Apparently, Taehyung did not give a single shit, because he immediately roared and launched himself past you, the brown ball slamming into the black wall. You blinked, trying to register what was happening, but it was too much for you and your brain that was slowly trying to restore function due to lack of oxygen. They tumbled down the stairs and you laid your head against the floor, hearing the grunts and shouting, wondering why Taehyung had come back.

Wondering how he knew.

You closed your eyes.

In your dreams, you saw the soft sunlight glowing against Taehyung’s tan skin as he reached down to retrieve a dark green cucumber to show you. It was a bit wonky and hadn’t grown quite right, but you watched Taehyung tap it and smile to himself.

“Doesn’t matter what it looks like on the outside,” he said cheerfully. “I know it will still taste delicious because I gave it love.”

-

You tried to go back to work, but it was awful.

You loved your work. Perhaps it was boring to others, accounting all day, but it was mundane and peaceful, always knowing what you had to do. You never had to question the numbers. The numbers were what they were and that was that.

But now when you stared out into the grey urban jungle, it pained you.

What once was your safe haven turned into your cage, chaining you to clock in, clock out. You would go home to a motel nearby, crying into unfamiliar, starched sheets, pitying housekeepers preparing your meals, asking you what was wrong and you couldn’t tell them.

Because you didn’t know.

i'm sad inside, but i know it's for the best, right? you had to realize where you drew the line 

You didn’t check his social media. You didn’t check his Twitch, his Instagram, his Twitter. You got a new phone, only giving your new number to your work and your parents. With a start, you realized you hadn’t contacted your old high school friends in years. You had lost them all, committing social suicide for Jeon Jungkook. In fact, you had no social media presence, so there was no need to download those apps.

There was nothing on your old phone that you wanted. It sat in the storage unit, forgotten. You didn’t want to turn on your old phone to see the photos, the lock screen of his arms around you, smile on his face from two years ago.

A smile you didn’t even know was real or fake.

i still hate it when you’re not there

You tried to tell yourself you were fine, because moping over Jeon Jungkook was stupid. But you had invested so much. You had given him everything. It was hard to regrow. You were stuffed in this tiny motel room, staring out to the hazy, polluted city, yellow sunlight fighting to be seen.

You sat by the window, clutching your pink flats, remembering Taehyung’s last words to you before you left.

“I looked up the brand and bought you some new ones,” he had said sheepishly. “I felt bad that they got so ruined, all because I asked you to help me with the garden.” He gave you that big, boxy smile. “Just think of them as a parting gift for being such a great tenant.”

You inhaled a deep breath, placing the pale pink flats next to the exact same style but grass-stained, greyed-out, worn ones. You stared at them both.

And made a choice.

-

“I thought I would never see you again.”

You lifted your head. The scent of flowers, so familiar and comforting, wafted around you, a reassuring embrace. You were wearing a long-sleeved white dress, a brown ribbon around the collar. The pink flats, the ones the owner of the deep baritone voice had gifted you.

That was nearly six months ago now. You had since thrown away the other ones.

Kim Taehyung walked up to you. He was wearing brown overalls and a cream shirt, elbows smeared with dirt. His skin had lightened due to the passing winter, but it was spring now. The flower shop was very busy, but there were other employees, and Taehyung was fixated on you.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Taehyung said quietly, his brown eyes shimmering. “I would have come here a lot more often if I knew.”

You bit you lip and bowed your head politely, smiling at him. Taehyung coughed and rubbed the back of his head, messing up his dark brown hair. It was longer and curlier now, desperately needing a trim.

“I… I came to get carnations. The shop I normally go to ran out.”

You nodded, leading him wordlessly to the red and pink carnations. There was still a good number left, but you had to pick through carefully to find the most beautiful ones for him. He watched you work, chewing on his lip. You held up the large bouquet to him.

“What do you think?” you asked softly.

He smiled at you. “Perfect.” He didn’t ask the price. “Could you make two corsages out of a few of them?”

“Of course. Right this way.”

You brought him to one of the counters, selecting a few blooms to make the corsages. You showed him the available ribbons and he picked a thin, sheer white one. He watched you work, quickly, but delicately, careful not to bruise the petals.

“You became an expert about flowers,” he remarked. “I’m still struggling.”

You smiled. “I’m still learning. It’s very different from what I used to do.” You twisted the ribbon into a perfect bow, using floral wire to secure it.

“You don’t talk to him anymore, do you?”

You shook your head. “Haven’t seen him since that day you threw him down your stairs.”

Taehyung laughed a little too loud, making the patrons stare at him. He coughed nervously, cramming the crumpled brown hat under his arm onto his head. You placed your hand over your lips, trying to hide your chuckle. Your fingertips smelled like phloem sap from the cut stems, sweet and grassy.

Taehyung gazed at you, surrounded by flowers, carnations laid out on the counter.

“Will you… let me take a picture of you?”

You blinked at him, lips parting.

Taehyung reached into his pocket, pulling out an old 35mm film camera. He looked sheepish as he held it up, hesitating.

“Sorry, I just… you look so beautiful, and I don’t want to forget that.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I know it’s a weird habit. But I like to take pictures and I never took one of you.” He looked deep into your eyes.

“I really regret not taking a picture of you.”

Your fingers were still over your mouth. You nodded.

Taehyung held the camera up and snapped a photo.

-

“He waits for you to get off work every day. It’s been a week now.”

The manager was teasing you, nudging your arm as you tugged on your long camel coat. You smiled at her, an old woman with knowing eyes that had seen and enjoyed a lot of life. Taehyung waved across the street as you made eye contact with him.

“There aren’t men like him anymore, you know,” she said gently. “These kinds of things happened in my generation, but now young people send pictures of flowers instead of the real thing.”

When you thanked the manager and walked out to Taehyung, he held out a small bundle of tiny flowers to you. White cosmos. You stopped, surprised. Breathless as you looked up at him. He was illuminated by a streetlight and the dying sun, the golden hour matching his golden skin. Holding out the white cosmos, shivering in the spring breeze.

“They’re not that pretty,” he said guiltily, stepping up to you. “I’ve been trying to grow flowers for months now and these are the only ones that survived, ahahaha…”

He scratched his head, brushing his hair back.

“I always hoped that if I saw you again, I could show you that I was able to finally grow flowers.” Taehyung laughed, shrugging apologetically. “This is all I got.”

You reached out and took the small bundle from him. They were a bit curled and slightly wilted from being carried around but you smiled at them.

“No one has ever grown flowers for me,” you said quietly.

The tiny yellow centers of each flower were surrounded by white. You counted seven. Taehyung had given you seven flowers. Seven flowers he grew on his own, because he wanted to show you. You placed your fingers on your mouth, the scent of the floral shop returning to you with the action. Your chest felt tight and full, a feeling unlike any other.

“I wanted to grow at least eight,” Taehyung lamented. “Because that would be luckier, but…”

You shook your head quickly, looking up at him. Him and his beautiful brown eyes, a small patch of dirt underneath his cheek. He probably didn’t even know it was there.

“No.”

You removed your hand from your lips and smiled at him.

“Seven is perfect.”

You threw your hands around him and hugged him tightly.

-

When Jeon Jungkook saw you again, everything was different.

He was distracting himself from school. University was much harder than he thought, especially since he didn’t attend right after high school to pursue his streaming career.

For a long time, he had someone to take care of him, first his mom and then you. Someone to do everything so he could recklessly chase his dreams. But things were different now. He had to suddenly become an adult. It wasn’t because of you. You hadn’t told anyone what happened.

But everyone knew.

One girl had let it slip, and then another and another, and then screenshots were plastered everywhere, all over the internet for anyone to see, not knowing the context, tossing judgements left and right. His parents found out and then his friends, everyone disappointed in him, not surprised that you vanished without a trace. He had to vanish too, every sponsor cutting ties with him immediately, not asking if it was true or not. It was bad for business to be associated with something like that.

Jungkook really regretted it now, but there was nothing he could do to take it back.

That’s why he was sitting in this tiny, one room apartment, using what was leftover from his streaming money to get a degree, saving every penny to his education. At least he hadn’t been so reckless to overspend. You hadn’t let him, always reminding him to save for his future, using your own income to pay for the necessities.

Even now, you were helping him.

Every once in a while, Jungkook would type variations of your old Instagram username into the search bar, wondering if you had ever set it up again. He had asked you to delete it, since you had been getting constant DMs from guys asking you out, sending you unsolicited dick pics. You had agreed, even through you could have fought him or simply privated it.

You had deleted it, Jungkook knew now, because he asked you and you loved him.

It hurt to know that you loved him so dearly and he was too busy feeding his own ego to see it.

When Jungkook saw you again, you were surrounded by flowers.

Your profile picture was a close up shot of your beautiful face, golden sun against your skin, a white cosmos tucked behind your ear. He knew it was you. He could tell by the shape of your lips, the contours of your eyes, even through your eyes were closed. Wearing a white dress, the ruffles fluttering in the wind.

Jungkook was breathless, seeing you again. He scrolled through your pictures. They were mostly of flowers, with captions of how to grow them. Were you a florist now? Some of them were of you in different dresses, surrounded by blue sky and green summer. The smile on your face was so dazzling that he wondered who gave you that smile.

His heart wrenched uncomfortably in his chest.

Or maybe it wasn’t a someone.

There was a time when that smile was his. There was a time when he could make you smile like that, your lips saying his name breathlessly – “Jungkook, Jungkook, look at this!” – showing him something silly or giving him his favorite banana milk with special edition packaging, saying how cute it was, just like him.

He blinked and a droplet fell onto his phone.

Right on your smiling face, hand holding a large straw hat, your pink dress fluttering in the wind.

Jungkook wiped it away, swiping at his tears with the sleeve of his black sweatshirt, wondering why had he taken that smile for granted, why he had drifted away from the safe coast, why he had thought, even for a second, that the days and nights you spent cleaning after him meant that you were keeping yourself busy and away from him, not seeing it for what it was, not seeing that it was your love for him and his own sloppiness that left him here now, staring at your summer as his summer was torn from him by textbooks and lectures.

He shuddered, still looking at the pictures, not wanting to miss a moment, even if they weren’t his moments anymore.

One of your pictures was a bundle of seven white cosmos, a little wilted and sad-looking.

Jungkook read the caption.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’re beautiful. Because there is someone out there who thinks you are. They use every resource they know to give you love, even if it’s clumsy at first. Even if you don’t think you need it or want it.

The tears were really coming now, streaming down his cheeks as Jungkook asked himself why, why did he give this up?

They celebrate you and your love instead of simply tolerating it.

-

You sat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over the side.

Your pink flats were right beside you, and your arms were resting on the wooden fence. The ocean breeze was strong here, salty and cold. But you didn’t feel the cold, because Kim Taehyung had wrapped a thick wool blanket around you two. It was already night, but by the seaside it was still chilly, even in the summer, due to the sea breeze.

He peeled the foil back on a roasted sweet yam, taking off some of the skin so you could bite into it. You tried to take it from him but he shook his head, frowning at you. You laughed and took a bite, scalding your mouth from how hot it was. But it still tasted good.

“I asked my parents if I could have it.”

You looked up at him, trying to blow the steaming air from your mouth in attempt to cool off.

“The cottage?”

Taehyung nodded, taking a bite and wincing. “You’ll never guess what they said.”

You smiled. “What did they say?”

He scowled. “Then pay rent!” He waved a hand to the seaside house behind you two. “They own it! Why do I have to pay rent? I’m their son!”

You giggled, hiding your mouth behind you hand. Taehyung angrily bit into the sweet yam again and choked, forgetting how hot it was. Your giggles turned into full-blown laughter, falling back onto the grass, wool softening your fall. Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you, shaking the yam furiously. The white moonlight glinted off the silver foil. He puffed his cheeks and sighed as your laughter faded out.

You looked up at the stars, realizing how clear the sky was here.

It was nothing like the city.

Even in darkness, the white stars shone against the black, bright and clear. You wouldn’t have seen them if you weren’t here, on your back and looking up at them.

“Anyway, they only said it was a hundred won, so I guess that’s fine,” Taehyung grumbled. “Really made me worried there for a second, sheesh.”

You turned your head to look up at him. “You going to live here?”

Taehyung shook his head.

“No, you are.”

You blinked, taken aback. He rewrapped the yam, determining it was too hot to eat right now. He gazed down at you, smiling a little.

“It’s better than that one room you have in that house. Safer too.”

You chewed on your lip. “But I can’t pay the amount I paid when I rented it…”

Taehyung poked you with the yam. “Weren’t you listening? The rent is a hundred won. No, two hundred for you, since I have to make some profit.”

He laid down next to you, eye to eye now, smile getting bigger.

“Although I hear there’s this annoying gardener that comes around every day caring for the plants.”

You were smiling now too, drawn by his cheeky, boxy grin.

“Really? I think he’s pretty cute. I think that’s how he gets away with it.”

His brown eyes locked with yours.

“Will you let me care for you too?”

The sound of the sea, crashing into the rockface, constructing a new memory for you.

“I know you’ll be much harder than a plant,” Taehyung murmured quietly. “Sorry, that’s a dumb thing to say, I meant–”

You pressed your lips against his, cold air chilling your cheeks, warmth spreading throughout your soul.

When you pulled away, breathless, Taehyung was staring at you, eyes wide. Those three words came to you, words that you thought you were never going to say again, words you had for someone else, but you knew this was the right one, the perfect flower.

The one who struggled to grow seven flowers.

White cosmos.

Just for you.

“I love you, Kim Taehyung.”

-

The next summer.

Seven flowers. White cosmos, bright, glowing, perfectly shaped. Surrounding your left hand. The ring finger held a princess-cut diamond surrounded by six tiny small ones like petals.

The caption.

He grew them perfectly this time.

Jeon Jungkook sighed heavily, placing his phone back in his pocket. The noise around him was loud, clattering and chattering, now a familiar atmosphere. The black bucket hat was low over his eyes, shrouding them. He pulled his face mask higher, hiding his features, not wanting to be recognized. Internet shame was enough; he didn’t need public shame as well. He already had to switch universities because of it.

Jungkook placed his hand back onto the subway rail, shouldering his backpack, staring out the train window at the black tunnel.

--

masterpost

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #taehyung scenarios #kim taehyung x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

[keenmarvellover]

POSTS FOR YOU - 1

Some links to posts with valuable content you want in one place.(BASICALLY EVERYTHING IS THERE)

Suggestions and Recommendations are appreciated and accepted.

Last Updated : 16/10/2020

NOTE: Some of these post are written in a crude and unruly fashion. But they contain valuable tips, guidance and information. If you can't/don't want to read such posts, then don't read.

Mental Health

Do you need a Hug?

Maybe you’re having a stressful day. Maybe you just need a deep breath. Maybe you just didn’t realize how stressed you are. You can get your comfort here.

Some stuff to help you sleep

This is definitely not a google drive full of the sleep stuff from the Headspace app, including sleepcasts, music, and wind down meditation, that normally costs 17.99 a month, no siree and you definitely shouldnt share this with people

Anti-Anxiety Tools

Some tools to help you before, during or after an anxiety attack

100 Reasons NOT To Kill Yourself

READ IT. SHARE IT. REBLOG IT. Save a Life.

HOBBIES MASTERPOST!!!!!!!!

A really excellent way to reduce anxiety is to pick up a new hobby. Find something you’re interested in, learn it, then use it as a healthy and productive way to cope.

Health

Some very Important Lists for Rating PAIN, FATIQUE AND MENTAL HEALTH

It is MUST share

PSA Rregarding Hospital bills

Also how to pay hospital bills when you are broke.

How to differentiate between COVID-19, FLU AND COMMON COLD

Anyway, as we enter cold & flu season in the YEAR of corona, this will come in very handy.

Treatment for HIV

VERY IMPORTANT. Please Read and Share.

What does the Color of your Period mean?

A must read for individuals who get periods.

How to differentiate between Period Cramps and Appendicitis

A MUST READ

From a Person who is Hard of Hearing

Types and levels of deafness

General Tips for Vagina Health

Some stuff they don't teach in sex-ed.

Undo the damage of Sitting

Are you always sitting down? Then these are some exercise you should probably try out for better health.

Guide to Proper Bra Fitting

Guide to Proper Bra Fit and Measuring. Please Read and Share.

Washable, Reusable Menstrual Pads

(Part II)

Reusable menstrual hygiene product, and are an alternative to disposable sanitary napkins or to menstrual cups.

Artists

Art Masterpost

How to draw *insert whatever you want, its there in the list*?

Book Binding

Some video links to different types of DIY Bookbinding

For Artists who Need Photoshop

If youre an artist who cant afford photoshop, definitely DO NOT go to this google drive to pirate the program, that would be so bad!!!

Do’s and Don'ts of Designing for Accessibility

Please consider this when designing for ANYTHING. For BUSINESSES and ARTISTS.

Writers

Color Synonyms

For both ARTISTS and WRITERS

How to make a Masterlist

Simple but efficient instructions to make a masterlist

ULTIMATE NOVEL WRITING RESOURCE MASTERLIST

This is an ultimate masterlist of many resources that could be helpful for writers.

List of AUs and Ship Tropes

For when you run out of ideas.

AUs

Ship Tropes

Legal sites to get some much needed Info

If there was only a way to find out all of this rather edgy information without getting yourself in trouble…

Resources for Describing Characters

For writing about physical appearances, character traits, talents,and skills and other related stuff of your characters, here is a comprehensive list.

Resources for Describing Emotions

Having trouble writing jealousy, happiness, motivation. Here you go!!

Some Resources for your Writing

Body Language

Reverse Dictionary

Character Traits

Things to Keep in mind when naming Characters

Valuable advice. Trust me

Words to Use when Writing Smut/Romance

This is for smut/romance writers. Kinda like a thesaurus.

Tips to write Pain

How are you supposed to write about pain you’ve never experienced before?

References for Greek Mythology Characters

Link to an extensive site every single detail of Greek Mythology from Gods to Family Trees.

Tips to write Blind Characters

Some tips that might be invaluable when writing character that are near-blind or blind

Things to Remember when writing a Highly Emotional Scene

Just small things that could make a great difference

How to write with Multiple POVs

Tips on how to write multiple POVs with diverse characters

Synonyms and Antonyms

The person who made this list is a blessing to writers. Just saying.

Good Qualities for Female Characters

Females don't always need to be protected and be weak. Make them more realistic.

Words to Use instead of ‘Said’

Every single situation is listed. Check it out.

Limits of the Human Body

All extremities listed

Readers

Legal Sites to Download Literature

From children’s books to rare books, from philosophy and religion to nonfiction. I guess you can find anything here.

The Rights of the Reader

And some (lots of) bashing of Helicopter Parents.(You want to read only the rights. Here it is)

Wet Book Rescue : Steps to save a Wet Book

Valuable information if some of your prized books were affected by recent flooding. The video even shows you what to do if you can’t dry the book out right away.

Cheatsheet to Navigate AO3

Makes your time on AO3 a little more easier and interesting

How to trick Writers into giving you More Fanfic to read

Works for Comics and Art as well.

Get a Book Suggestion

This book website gives you the first page of a random book without the title or author so that you can read it with no preconceptions

Books written by POC Writers

Only POC authors included in the list.

Students

Basic ASL (American Sign Language) Movements

ASL Hand Movements for beginners.

Tips for studying with ADHD/a>

Made by a person with ADHD themself.

Resources to Learn New Languages

Ten fairly useful general language resources

How to properly take notes

It helps. It really helps.

FREE ONLINE LANGUAGE COURSES

Here is a masterpost of MOOCs (massive open online courses) that are available, archived, or starting soon. I think they will help those that like to learn with a teacher or with videos.

A Thread of Tips

A thread of tips to help High School and College students academically

LEARN THINGS FOR FREE

FREE ONLINE COURSES (here are listed websites that provide huge variety of courses)

Google like a BOSS

Some life hacks which make student's lives easier.

625 words to know in your Target Language

If your learning a new language, these words will help you build a strong foundation.(Some tips and sites are include too)

Miscellaneous/Life Hacks

How to add music to your Blog

How to add your very own, custom homemade playlist to your blog?

How to Walk with Purpose?

Some tips on how to hold yourself in public and why.

Cheatsheet for Laundry Rooms

Saves a lot of money in the Laundry Room

How to Gird up your Loins?

A lesson in how to gird your loins.

How to Disappear Online

Please read and spread for the sake of abuse victims or stalker victims.

What to do during a Nuclear Attack

I hope you never have to use it but here are some guidelines to follow in the event of a nuclear attack

How to pull an All-Nighter.

A to-do list

Write a Thank You letter after your Interview

It leaves a good impression on your interviewer and increase your chances of passing the interview.

Laundry Tags: Meanings

A life hack that you’ll definitely need at some point.

Where to find free Movies and Series Online

Lots of sites. Lots and Lots of sites. I am not Kidding. Now go and chill without netflix. (Part II)

How to get a Refund?

Get your stuff or a refund.

HOW TO DO EVERYTHING FROM SCRATCH

This starts at the most absolute basics of gardening and planting, provides definitions, and hopefully is easily understandable. This is a MUST-READ. (Farming)

Discuss your wages

It’s your right to share your salary, not doing so could be holding you back.

Youtube Tutorials for Basically EVERYTHING

This is a big, giant list of Youtube tutorials that will teach you all the basic life skills you need to know in order to be a functional adult.

Safety

Emergency Evacuation - Items to Gather

A text list of suggested items to acquire in the event of an emergency.

If someone you know is in an abusive relationship

AN ABBREVIATED GUIDE TO ‘Holy shit!!! My friend is in an abusive relationship what do I do’ and what not to do.

Defense Tips for Women

Defense and Safety tips a woman MUST know. (Part II)

An app that informs your Emergency contacts if you are inactive in a set period of time.(Could prevent rape attempts if used correctly)

If a Man gets Physical

How to check if a mirror is one way or two-way

If you are trapped in a smoke-filled apartment: What to Do

How to get out of Hand-binds

How to get out of the bunker of a Car

How to track Anonymous asks.

How to pick a Lock

Traits and Warning signs of an Abuser

What to do if a bigot pulls your Hijab (from behind)

What to do if someone pulls of a Muslim Woman's Hijab? (To do List for both Men and Women)

#safety #health #mental health #writers #readers #micellaneous

[omgkatsudonplease]

[ficlet, bagginshield] we could form an attachment (bridgerton au)

The gardens at Long Cleeve Hall are stifling with the aroma of wisteria. Bilbo Baggins, who had hoped to escape there for some air, finds it frankly just as hard to breathe there as he had inside the Hall itself.

“Bilbo?” Lobelia Bracegirdle’s voice rings out from not too far away, causing Bilbo to leap to attention again. “Bilbo Baggins, get out here this instant! The Springle-ring is starting and you signed my dance card!”

Oh merciful Giver spare me, Bilbo thinks mutinously, rushing away from the sound of her voice deeper into the gardens. He had only agreed to stand up with her to be polite, but if this is how she’s going to handle him needing some air, he might as well leave her hanging all night. Miss Bracegirdle’s forceful personality might make her seem charming (if not intimidating) to other Hobbit-lads on the marriage market, but her inability to take no for an answer and her overt interest in becoming mistress of Bag End has completely drained him of any hypothetical interest he may have had in her.

He spots a decent-sized hedge and dives behind it just as Miss Bracegirdle enters the gardens, her white gown making her look like the shroud of some terrible Barrow-wight as she cranes her head around for him. Bilbo hardly dares to breathe, listening only to the merry refrain of the Springle-ring in the distance matching with the sound of his own heartbeat.

“Where is that blasted Mr Baggins?” grumbles Miss Bracegirdle as she heads deeper into the gardens, just past his hiding space. He exhales as soon as she vanishes from sight, before turning and almost colliding with another dark figure lurking in the hedge.

Bilbo’s first instinct is to scream, but then that would call Miss Bracegirdle back to him. The figure turns to look at him, and a mixture of shock and resignation floods through Bilbo all at once.

It’s King Thorin.

Bilbo remembers their first meeting at the season-opening Party Field Dance. He had been doing evasive manouevres from Miss Bracegirdle at that time, too, and had bumped quite literally into King Thorin. The Dwarf-king had refused to indulge him in his paltry attempts to make conversation, though he did recognise Gandalf, Bilbo’s chaperone for this year’s social season.

It seems that Gandalf had agreed to accompany Bilbo to this year’s social events for no real reason other than a general desire to disturb the peace, because no sooner after finding that King Thorin was in the Shire on a goodwill tour before the hunting season starts in the Ered Luin, Gandalf had decided to arrange a dinner party for all of them. So this is now his third encounter with King Thorin, and it seems that each time, the Dwarf-king gets a little more handsome and a lot more rude.

“What are you doing out here, Mr Baggins?” demands King Thorin.

“Could ask the same of you, Your Majesty,” hisses Bilbo, putting a finger to his lips. “And hush, there’s someone looking for me.”

“Miss Bracegirdle, right?” wonders King Thorin drily, raising an eyebrow.

Bilbo grits his teeth at the condescension rolling off the Dwarf-king in waves, and turns back to the leaves to keep his eye out for Miss Bracegirdle’s return. “What business is it of yours?” he mutters.

“Oh, you could do better,” scoffs King Thorin.

“I would rather not do anybody here,” replies Bilbo.

That gets King Thorin’s eyebrow raising in curiosity. “If you have no wish to marry anybody here, then why are you at these events at all?”

“Because it’s the respectable thing to do,” says Bilbo. “I know you come from some far-off hill —”

“The Lonely Mountain, actually —” offers King Thorin.

“Whatever.” Bilbo waves a hand at that. “You’re not from these parts, so you couldn’t possibly understand the importance of respectability.”

King Thorin raises an eyebrow, and Bilbo suddenly realises exactly what he’d said. His cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“I mean — respectability with Hobbits is much different than with Dwarves — I’m sure you’re perfectly respectable with your folks, otherwise you wouldn’t be King!”

“I still fail to see how that equates making yourself do something you do not wish to do,” replies King Thorin.

Bilbo swallows. It had been his mother’s dying wish that he fall in love and get married someday. And that was part of the reason why he’d kept going to these events, year after year, in the vain hope that perhaps this year things will be different. Perhaps this year someone special will sweep him off his feet.

In turn, all he’s gotten out of it is a reputation for pickiness, speculation on whether or not there’s something wrong with him for not settling for some pretty Hobbit-lass who can’t see him past his family name, and anxiety at the possibility of having to attend these events until he’s old and shrivelled. But he’s not going to explain all of that to some Dwarf-king only in the Shire to rake some buds before he goes to be Dwarf-kingly at the Ered Luin.

“You know, I haven’t seen you on the dance floor at all tonight,” he says, changing the subject. “Surely a King would know how to dance.”

“Yes, of course,” replies King Thorin, his tone mildly irritated.

Bilbo hums. “Surely even a King of Dwarves knows that in the Shire, the lads must not leave any lasses who wish to dance sitting by the side,” he adds.

“Your point being?” wonders King Thorin.

Bilbo crosses his arms. “Why attend these events at all if you will not do the polite thing and dance? Is it because you also don’t want to be here?”

Perhaps it’s a trick of the light, but the very tips of King Thorin’s ears seem to flush pink. “I am here in the Shire as part of my goodwill tour before going hunting in the Blue Mountains,” he points out, his voice thick with something Bilbo can’t quite place. “Am I not allowed to amuse myself and experience Hobbit culture prior to my departure?”

“You have a odd definition of amusement, then, since you spend these balls glowering to the side,” replies Bilbo.

“You would be glowering, too, if all of the mamas of the Shire keep flocking to you in hopes of introducing you to all of their marriageable children,” retorts King Thorin. “I am here to observe, not find a spouse.”

Bilbo snorts. “And I am here to find my true love, but as a gentlehobbit in possession of a good fortune, I find myself surrounded more by dissemblers and treasure-hunters,” he remarks drolly. “Hence, six-going-on-seven years of unattachment.”

“Ah, yes, the Shire’s elusive hare.” King Thorin’s brows knit. “Is it true this is your seventh season? I only read of it in the Stormcrow pamphlets.”

Bilbo hums. “Stormcrow talks of you, too. Says you are colder than the Fell Winter. Not very good for foreign relations, I imagine.”

“That is entirely unfair,” mutters King Thorin. “I should not be painted wintry just because I have yet to dance.”

“Is it better or worse than being described as a hare to be hunted?” retorts Bilbo.

King Thorin grows thoughtful at that. After a moment, he puts his hands together, and fixes Bilbo with the full brunt of his steely blue gaze.

“How would you like to solve our joint Lord Stormcrow problem together?”

~~

For the gathered attendees of the dance at Long Cleeve Hall, the most exciting part of the night had not been when Hanncome Hobson and Marigold Morstan announced their betrothal, nor was it when Falstaff Proudfoot fell into the punch bowl.

No, the most exciting part of the night was when Gandalf set off an entire array of golden fireworks and sparklers, dazzling across the night sky before falling back down on their wondering faces in flocks of golden petals. And it was in the midst of all of this when Bilbo Baggins and King Thorin II of Erebor arrived back at the hall, hand-in-hand.

“Don’t panic,” says King Thorin out of the corner of his mouth. Bilbo takes a deep breath, willing his nerves not to show as they make their way through the gathered crowd, heading for the dance floor.

“We could form an attachment.”

The couples on the floor are now dancing the Weller-spin, a lively yet rather shockingly intimate dance involving pairs circling one another with their arms tightly wound around one another. Bilbo’s heart stutters at the sight, but King Thorin presses them onwards, into a miraculously empty spot on the dance floor.

“Look into my eyes,” he suggests. Bilbo complies, gasping in spite of himself when he feels the Dwarf-king’s hand at his back. He scrambles to return the favour, clasping their other hands together above their heads. “If this is to work, we must appear madly in love.”

“I am trying to avoid diplomatic disaster in the Shire, and you are trying to find your true love. With this arrangement, the rest of the Shire — particularly Lord Stormcrow — will believe that I am not so cold as my initial impression might seem, while you will have turned from being the quarry into the hunter.”

They begin to move together to the music, spinning along with the other couples. King Thorin’s hand is steady against Bilbo’s back as they dance, the heat rolling off of him running through Bilbo’s body to settle in his stomach. The Dwarf-king’s gaze is softer now, something less like cold steel and more like a summer sky.

“In other words, I will no longer be wintry, nor will you be a hare.”

King Thorin spins him out of his arms, before reeling him back in. Bilbo goes willingly, only half of his breathlessness feigned for show. They take each other’s hands in a promenade, turning together before moving back into one another’s arms again.

“Your Majesty,” begins Bilbo, but King Thorin cuts him off with a chuckle.

“We are courting,” he reminds him. “Call me Thorin.”

“Very well, Thorin.” Bilbo smiles. “Do you know the other parts of Hobbit courtship?”

Thorin’s brows briefly furrow. “You will have to educate me, Mr Baggins,” he replies.

Bilbo chuckles at that. “Bilbo,” he says. “Since we are courting, like you mentioned.”

“Bilbo,” agrees Thorin, and the sound of his own name being said by that low voice makes shivers run down Bilbo’s spine. “Tell me more about Hobbit courtship.”

In spite of himself, Bilbo’s stomach flutters.

“This is madness,” Bilbo breathes, looking up at King Thorin, still utterly lost and nervous and perplexed.

“Yet there is method to it,” answers King Thorin. “Provided, of course, that we can amiably part ways at the end of the season, or when someone finds they are so truly in love with you that they would dare to go toe-to-toe with a King for your hand. For as long as I do not love you, and you do not love me, then what have we to lose?”

#bagginshield #thilbo #the hobbit #lily's dabbles #tolkien #moving this out of the previous post it was nested in #bridgerton au

[yacoka]

the beginning

ii. the silent song of souls

character(s) — tsukishima kei, matsukawa issei

pairing — tsukishima kei x reader

genre — royalty!au, reincarnation!au, soulmate!au

warning(s) — death, brief mentions of war, PTSD, loss

beta(s) — @/doughnuts-5ever

masterlist

Bone-chilling screams echo off the stone walls, bouncing through the corridors as people run mindlessly about the castle, Shadows dance upon the walls, touching briefly before scattering, blending into the dark walls of the castle.

“Issei,” you breathe out, placing a worried hand on your best friend’s shoulder.

“I know, but it’s not safe. You have to stay in here.” Matsukawa pats your hand reassuringly. His expression betrays his emotions however, thick brows furrowed in worry as his usual sleep clouded eyes are now alert. No matter how much he tries to comfort you, every sound from outside your chambers has his hands twitching towards his sword.

You stare into the blinding flames of the fireplace, eyes transfixed by the way they dance about, burning up they touch. Worry and fear that gnaw in the pit of your stomach, and the desperation to know what was going on has you restless.

You're tempted to reach into the fire, to feel something other than the uneasy blend of emotions. You wonder how the fire would feel like, crawling up your skin, eating away at the dress you wore. It would probably feel better than the bile that creeps up your throat, the idea of people dying in your name making you ill.

“Y/n,” Matsukawa calls out to you weakly.

Spinning around, you find him bleeding out on the floor, a blade stuck through his chest.

“Issei!” You choke, rushing to his side. God, there was so much blood. Why was there so much blood?

“Issei, hang on, I’ll go get someone, please,” you cry out, pressing down on the edges of the mortal wound unsurely.

“It’s no use, I won’t survive this.” His smile is a broken one, filled with blood and regret. “I’ll die here, in your name.”

“No, Issei, please,” your hands flutter around his wound, trying your best to staunch the bleeding, but it only causes the blood to surge out more, staining your hands and the pale white chemise you wore.

He coughs roughly, his whole body convulsing in pain.

“Because of you,” he gasps out, “I will die here, without a future, for a spoiled brat who isn't worth my life.”

You recoil from his harsh words.

“No, it's not- Issei-”

All you can do is repeat his name helplessly as he tells you of the future he has lost, choked out between shallow breaths and bloody coughs.

With every word, the blood spreads until you are soaked in it, drenched with the blood of your best friend, with the blood of those who have died because of you tonight.

“It’s your fault. It’s your fault. It’s yOUR FAULT. IT’S YOUR FAU-”

You jolted awake, chest heaving as you rushed to the window, the moonlight illuminating your clean hands. They were clean. They were clean. They were clean.

(So why the hell can you still feel the stickiness of blood dripping from your hands and down your body?)

The words bounced around in your head, leaving a pounding headache in their wake. The cold sweat covering your body has you shifting uncomfortably as your heart raced, the overwhelming guilt and fear still racing through your veins.

“Issei,” you whispered, clenching your eyes shut. “Issei, I’m so sorry.”

You sat there, slumped against the cool stone of the walls until day broke, your hands clenched into tight fists, leaving crescent moons imprinted into the velvety skin of your palm.

That was how your ladies found you. With poorly disguised looks of pity, they hoisted you up and got you ready for the day. The soft chatter that flowed around you steadied you, pulling your mind back from the crumbling edge.

Today was not the day you would lose your mind, your spirit. Issei would have wanted you to live for him. It was what he gave his life for.

Today, you will not break.

Akasuki helped you out of the now-cool bath, drying you off and fitting you into your armor for the day, painting on your mask with deft strokes of her gentle hand.

A firm knock on the door had one of your ladies rushing to it, peering out at the visitor. A few words later, and she pulled back into the room with a letter in hand.

“Your highness, this is for you.” She bowed deeply and opened the letter for you to read. Your eyes scan it quickly.

“I’m to join Prince Tsukishima in the gardens for a walk it seems.”

Akasuki merely nodded in response as she applied the finishing touches. “Just in time then.”

You swept through the long, arching corridors, guards and servants alike bowing out of your way hastily. Your mask was a fragile thing today, paper-thin and fragile. It was crinkled and weak, and just a wrong touch would send it crumbling. The strength you have is only enough to keep it up until you make it to the gardens, and a single short glance from Tsukishima already had it cracking once more.

“You look terrible.”

The carefully crafted smile fell as your eyes relaxed into a tired indifference, your face sagging with exhaustion. You shot him a tired glare.

“And you’re such a gentleman.” Your voice lacked the sarcasm meant for the statement, and the brittleness of it had you wincing internally.

Tsukishima held his arm out - the one with the red string entwined around it, you noted with exhausted amusement - and you entwined your arm around it. The contact was steadying, and your next breath came easier. The pressure on your head eased as Tsukishima tugged you closer ever so slightly.

“Shall we?” He tilted his head down at you. “Or are you too unwell for even a stroll?”

The scowl that slipped onto your face is less than ladylike and would have your etiquette teachers fainting if they saw it. You didn't bother dignifying his dig with a response, tugging roughly on his arm as you strode forward.

The casual conversation that flowed as you walked through the Tsukishima’s royal gardens washed away any lingering memory of the haunting dream, and you found yourself laughing at Tsukishima’s dry humor. He would have gotten along well with Issei, you noted with a wistful smile.

You learnt that day that Tsukishima was a fan of bones (“Paleontology,” he had snapped at your teasing. “Fossil bones, not just any bones.”), he has a sweet tooth, and he enjoys music (“Not the horrid song we danced to last night, but proper music.” He insisted on playing for you after lunch.).

The remaining days blurred together as you spent most of your time with Prince Tsukishima exploring the castle grounds, visiting the nearby village, and even sneaking out one night to stargaze. The last day of your stay was spent in the grand ballroom where a grand piano sat, and Tsukishima taught you how to play.

His slender fingers covered yours as he guided your hands over the keys, and you found yourself closing your eyes, losing yourself to the melody that flooded the ballroom. Your eyes flew open when you realized what you were playing.

“Isn’t this-”

“The song we danced to on the first day? Yes, it is.” He smiled down at you softly.

You grin at him, your eyes lighting up. “Why, I thought you said it was a horrid song!”

His nose crinkled up in distaste even as your fingers continue to dance haltingly across the keys. “It is, but you like it, so I thought I’d teach you.” A note of uncertainty slipped into his voice, a wrong key slipping from his careful control.

“I do like it, thank you, Prince Tsukishima.”

“Kei. Call me Kei.” His voice was soft as the song came to an end, his brown eyes locked onto yours, his smile turning bashful.

“Kei,” you repeated after him. “Call me Y/n.”

You were just barely past the edge of sleep, your mind a floating mess of thoughts and images from the week’s events. Prince Tsukishima sat at the centre of it, and the memory that shone the brightest is him smiling at you, with that soft, vulnerable look in his usually guarded eyes.

“Kei,” he had whispered. “Call me Kei.”

You could feel yourself flushing even as you entered a light sleep-

Your body jerked upright, eyes flying open as your heart thundered, panic jolting through you in jerky waves. Wild eyes searched the room for the cause of this, and a constricting feeling on your pinky where the string lay drew your attention. It was almost painful, and the fear radiating through it seeped into your bones.

But what are you so afraid for?

(You don’t realize that the fear comes from Tsukishima, who’s chambers are at the opposite end of the wing. You don’t see the thin line slit across his throat, red spraying from his pale neck as he tries to claw his way towards the door to find someone, anyone to protect you.)

Your fingers curl around the string, trying to steady yourself against the silent scream of emotions in the too-quiet night.

(You don’t see the all-consuming panic as he chokes on his blood, nor the terror in his eyes as the life seeps out of him.)

The string is pulled so taut you’re afraid it might snap, and the intensity of the multitude of emotions flowing off of it is enough to tug you out of bed.

(You don’t see him reaching helplessly for you even in his last moments, nails dripping red from the effort that it takes to crawl to the door. You don’t see his head dropping to the ground with a sickening thud, eyes going dull as his desperate grip on the string is released.)

Just as your bare feet touch the cool floor, there’s an audible snap that has you lurching backwards, the string going lax and dissolving right before your eyes. Your back meets a hard surface that you know isn’t your bed, and a knife slides across your throat before you even have time to feel afraid.

The last thing you see are the red specks of the string’s remnants floating in the air as you choke on the blood that pours down your neck, the memory of a bright smile and an outstretched hand flashing-

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader

[jamespotterthefirst]

How Do I Love Thee? (Ethan x MC)

Regency Era AU 

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Miss Lilac Allende) Word count: 5K Warning: More historical pining Premise: Their kiss marked the end of their medical apprenticeship, but is that the end for them? Part three of She Walks in Beauty and A Red, Red Rose. 

I.

Everything at Edenbrook reminded him of her. He could not work in peace in his own study without thinking of her torturous lips moving in unison with his, of the sinful little sighs he evoked from her, of her coy hands losing themselves in his hair. 

Ethan groaned. 

The clock that particular morning read well past nine in the morning, which meant his study would be desolate for the remainder of the day and thus safe for him to use. A small stab of disappointment made itself present in his chest before Ethan resolutely pushed it away.  Much like he had for the past two weeks, he reminded himself that avoiding her was the best alternative, for both of them. 

Ethan swallowed down the brief bout of despair that flooded him. Not seeing her was a torment, sinking in his stomach like a boulder. Seeing her and enduring the cold, determined manner in which she avoided his gaze was much, much worse. 

_______________

II. 

 Every nerve in her body was alive with anxious energy as she traveled down a deserted hall. With a deep, steadying breath, Lilac willed herself to relax, reminding herself that business had taken him away to London. There was no possibility of running into him as she extended her stay at Edenbrook that morning. 

Suppressing a sigh, she tried not to dwell on his absence. 

It was true that they barely saw much of each other as of late, but having him so far away was disheartening and it made the loss of him much more tangible. It broke her everyday that went by. 

Lilac startled at the sight of someone turning the corner. 

Mrs. Martinez smiled kindly at her, no doubt noting her reaction but choosing not to comment on it. Instead, she said, “Thank goodness you are back, dear. And already changed out of that dreadful costume,” she motioned to the bundle of gentlemen’s clothes Lilac carried in her arms. “We can set off at once.”

She grimaced at the thought of going home. “Actually, I am staying behind to study some more.”

Mrs. Martinez sent her a knowing look. “Study?” she repeated suspiciously. “Is that so?”

Lilac’s posture became a little straighter. “Yes, Dr. Ramsey is in London and Dr. Banerji assured me his library is at my disposal for however long I need it.”

The older woman looked as unconvinced as ever. “Is this really about studying?” she asked innocuously, “Or is this about avoiding Lord Carrick?”

The name and the accuracy of her statement sent her stomach sinking. Her silence was all the admission Mrs. Martinez needed for she laughed triumphantly. 

“I may be old but I am not a fool, my dear,” she chided, though not unkindly. “And you forget that I know you since the day you were born.” 

Lilac averted her gaze. “I do not wish to spend any time with anyone if I could be using that time to study instead.”

“It will appease your father,” Mrs. Martinez returned. “What is so unappealing about this suitor, corazón? He is a baron, perfectly pleasant, and exceedingly handsome. Is that not pleasing to you?”

Unbidden, thoughts of Ethan’s piercing blue eyes taunted her. It was all she could think about for the past few weeks. Her traitorous mind recalled the feel of his lips, surprisingly soft against hers, his hands clinging on to her waist, and the sound of her name in his spellbinding voice. 

Lilac shook her head imperceptibly. At once, she dismissed all thoughts of the man who wanted nothing to do with her. 

Mrs. Martinez waited for an answer.  

“Lord Carrick is decent enough,” she admitted hesitantly. “Though I believe you and father are overestimating his interest in me. As you said, he is a wealthy, handsome baron, which makes him the most eligible bachelor in the area. He cannot seriously consider the daughter of a foreign merchant who is almost six and twenty.”

“I would not be so sure of that, dear,” her companion returned sagely. “He seems completely besotted. I would expect an offer any day now.”

Lilac allowed herself to consider that. She had been so close to being a spinster that the thought of marriage had not crossed her mind in recent years. Her plan had been to study and practice medicine, even if they both had to be clandestine.

 That was all her heart desired. 

At least, it was all it desired up until a few months ago. 

“Could we please stay a bit longer?” was all she replied with, determined to change the subject. 

Mrs. Martinez sighed, defeated for the time being. “Alright, dear,” she allowed. “We can stay for another hour. That might be all the time we can get away with before your father starts asking questions.”

Lilac nodded, already thinking of ways to turn that hour into two. After Mrs. Martinez set off for the Edenbrook gardens she loved so much, Lilac continued her journey down the hall. 

The study, once the source of so much happiness, sent an icy stab of despair through her at first glance. Lilac forced it aside and began browsing through the vast collection of books.

She had just opened her selection to an interesting chapter when the door of the study opened.

“You promised me an hour, it's only been thirty–”

Lilac stopped abruptly as she whirled around, eyes landing on the tall, broad shouldered figure at the doorway that was decidedly not Mrs. Martinez. 

Doctor Ethan Ramsey stood before her, hair windswept and handsome face bright from the biting breeze outside. The early September sun shining through the tall windows cast an almost inhuman glow upon him, making him appear as destructively beautiful as ever. 

He looked just as shocked to see her, frozen mid stride. 

The silence that followed was loaded and wildly tense. 

Lilac opened her mouth, determined to break the unbearable pause. No words came to mind, however, paralyzed as she was by his presence and the way her chest ached for him. 

It was debilitating and she loathed it. 

Ethan, meanwhile, quietly observed her in the silence, eyes ablaze with an emotion she couldn't quite place, one that kindled a warmth in the pit of her stomach. It was as though he was struggling to decide if she was real and standing before him. 

It forced Lilac to finally look away, a painful knot in her throat. 

“I did not think you would still be here–” he blurted at the same time she hurriedly said, “I thought you were in London, otherwise–” 

They both cut off at the same time. 

Mortified and heart a thundering chaos, she wished for nothing more than to disappear into the ground.

She cleared her throat, refusing to look at him. 

“My apologies, sir,” she started with as much grace as she could manage. “I only wished to borrow a book for my studies. I will be taking my leave–” 

“No,” he said much too quickly. She glanced at him, instantly regretting her weakness.

Ethan was watching her, eyes roaming her face. 

“You can stay, Ms. Allende,” he said and the formal mode of address sent a little pang through her. 

Lilac, torn between fleeing from the heat of his gaze and the longing to finally be in his presence again, opened her mouth to argue. Ethan shook his head, perhaps knowing what she was about to say. 

“I insist,” he continued, unyielding. “I have a house call with a patient anyway so you will not be disturbed here.”

Before she could protest, he picked up his medical kit from a nearby table and retreated. As the door closed behind him, the ache in her throat swelled, her heart shattering into impossibly smaller pieces. 

_______________

III. 

Thoughts of beautiful green eyes, appearing dim and forlorn as they fell on him, haunted Ethan when he finished that evening’s house call. He threw the empty vial into his bag with more force than necessary, desperately pushing the specter of Lilac Allende’s disdain away. 

“Goodness!” his patent exclaimed, reminding Ethan of where he was. “Is my condition so severe that it inspires such an outburst from the most reserved man I have ever met?”

Slightly embarrassed, Ethan turned to the older woman who watched him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. In her frail state, the widowed baroness looked somehow smaller. 

He offered her a tentative smile. “You are vastly improving with every visit, my Lady. Whatever it is you are doing to improve your condition,  continue it twice as often.”

At this, she laughed, the sound almost sounding like a croak. “Then I shall double my efforts to avoid forming a scowl and laughing at the men foolish enough to wear one.” She threw Ethan a significant look. 

He couldn’t help but laugh at that, the first genuine laugh in weeks. Ethan liked the baroness well enough. It was her son, on the other hand, whom he couldn’t stomach. 

Almost as if summoning him with the thought alone, the door of the bedchamber opened to allow for the baron’s entrance. 

Lord Carrick sauntered in with a stride that commanded respect, even if the man himself did not entirely deserve it. He was tall, though not taller than Ethan, and many women often referred to him as handsome. For a wild moment, Ethan wondered if Lilac found the baron handsome as well, before he forced himself to remember that he had no right to wonder about her thoughts. 

The ever-present sneer broadened when Lord Carrick’s eyes fell on Ethan. “How is my mother?” he inquired, skipping all pleasantries. Ethan was glad for that. There was only so much social conversation he could endure and he had spent it all with the baroness. 

“She has improved greatly since my last visit,” Ethan replied, unable to keep the terse edge from his voice. This seemed to entertain the baron greatly for his lips curled further in derision.

Suppressing the sudden urge to hit him, Ethan added, “However, she should continue to get plenty of bed rest in addition to the medicine I am administering for the pain.”

The baroness’s lively smile faltered ever so slightly at the words "bed rest". Lord Carrick, noticing his mother's shift, let out a bark of a laugh, loud and imposing as everything else about him. 

“You will have to forgive my mother, Dr. Ramsey,” he said with a cheerfulness that was entirely too artificial to Ethan's ears. “You see, she was eagerly awaiting the grand ball we will be hosting here at Kenmore tomorrow evening.”

Ethan had received the invitation, sent out of social obligation no doubt. He had cast it aside, giving it no thought since. 

The baroness gave a small delighted squeal at the mention of the event. “Dr. Ramsey, you must  join us! All of the most influential families from all over will attend. It will be a most delightful occasion indeed!”

Ethan planned to avoid it for all those reasons precisely. Instead of offering empty promises, he remained silent. 

The baron, on the other hand, was watching Ethan with interested, narrowed eyes, as though carefully measuring his reaction. In a tone that he no doubt believed to be casual, he said, “Yes, Doctor, you must attend. The evening promises to be particularly joyous as I intend to secure an engagement.”

Ethan remained very still, offering no perceptible reaction that would betray the cold dread coursing through him. He was not entirely sure what prompted him to respond, but he said, “I was not aware you were to be married.”

“I am,” the other man replied at once, with an acute possessiveness Ethan did not miss. “I just returned from speaking to her father and happily securing his approval.” A deliberate pause, then, “Excellent family, the Allendes. Miss Lilac Allende is no doubt the greatest beauty in the county. Don't you agree?” 

But Ethan had stopped listening at the mention of her name, an icy, iron fist clenching around his insides. He could not explain away the abrupt hollowness in his chest or the way his throat constricted painfully. 

“Doctor?” the baroness asked with concern. 

Ethan was not entirely sure he responded. In fact, he did not remember with certainty if he said any goodbyes before he left Kenmore with haste. One minute, he was inside the grand estate, the next he was mounted on his horse, galloping at blinding speed toward Edenbrook. 

Except, Edenbrook should have been the last place he should go. Everything about that place reminded him of her. 

Lilac. 

Soon to be engaged. 

Part of him knew this would happen. How could it not? She was lovelier than anyone he had ever set eyes on. Her winning charm was bound to captivate someone eventually. Wasn't he a prime example of what those green eyes could do to a person? 

But she was so much more that a lovely face and bewitching, expressive eyes. She was a wealth of compassion and kindness, bestowed freely on anyone who needed it, like the sun giving its warmth selflessly. She was a fierce, determined protector, both for herself and for those who needed a champion. She was a beautiful, brilliant mind, unyielding in its quest to learn more with the sole purpose of improving a bleak world that at times did not deserve her. 

She was everything. 

His mind whirled aimlessly with a world of thoughts as Ethan commanded his horse to push faster, the obliging beast increasing its speed. The hooves against the grit of the road did little to drown the pounding at his ears. He would give anything— his money, his estate, his damn sanity— to cease all thoughts of her. 

And all the while, the goddamn pain in his chest refused to subside. 

The biting wind whipped against his face, gray clouds swirling above with the promise of rain. He had only just begun to wonder if he would be caught in the downpour when something small blurred out of a nearby bush, blocking their path. 

His horse let out a startled, deafening neigh before throwing Ethan off its back. 

A sickening crunch, a wave of blinding pain, and the memory of green eyes before darkness overtook him. 

_______________

IV.

The sheer terror that gripped her was debilitating as she ran through fields of tall grass and mud. Every intake of breath was a painful ache, every step arduous with trembling knees. Lilac did not know how her weightless body had the will to carry her, but it did not cease until Edenbrook loomed closer. 

She halted at the grand entrance of the estate, breathless and eyes stinging with unshed tears, the note that delivered the dreadful news clutched painfully in her fist. There to greet her was Dr. Banerji, though his unsmiling, melancholic demeanor did nothing to comfort her.

“Is he–?”

“He’s alive,” he assured her solemnly. 

But she did not dare to feel relieved until she saw him herself. 

She discovered she was entirely wrong mere minutes later when the sight of his bandaged body brought little solace to her. Her feet carried her to his bedside with such resolve that she did not pause to apologize to the startled servant she almost shoved aside. An invisible rope tugged her to him, as it always had since perhaps the moment she met him, except this time, it would not be abated until she sat by his side. 

Very gingerly, she took his uninjured hand in hers. 

He was asleep, chest rising and falling gently. Lilac bit her lip to suppress an onslaught of emotion. The sight of him vulnerable and broken was a sacrilege. He should be awake, towering over her, fighting back a laugh at one of her dreadful jokes or piercing her with those eyes of his. 

Ethan's handsome face was relaxed as he slept, long dark lashes fluttering with every breath he took. In this form, he looked almost peaceful save for the sling around his left arm, the bruises over his bare torso, and the bandage on his forehead already blooming with blood. 

Dr. Banerji moved to tend to the wound but Lilac intervened. 

“Please,” she pleaded quietly. “Let me.” 

He gave her a kind, understanding nod. “I shall give you a moment with him,” he added, his benign eyes falling on their joined hands. 

After Dr. Banerji exited the room, accompanied by the servants, Lilac set to work on his wound. She meticulously washed her hands in a nearby basin and carefully doused fresh gauze with carbolic acid, just like he had taught her. Very carefully, she began to clean the wound. 

The sting of the acid caused him to stir, his head rolling slowly from side to side in protest. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open. 

When his bleary eyes finally focused, they found hers at once, with a flash of disbelief to see her there. 

“You're here,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with disuse. 

“I am,” she assured him. 

His blue eyes took in every inch of her face before they closed, as if in worship. 

“Did I perish?”

Lilac paused at that, caught completely off guard. “No,” she said at last. “But you suffered several serious injuries.”

Ethan laughed, the sound bitter and entirely humorless. 

“It's no laughing matter,” she admonished. “You could've died, Ethan.”

Her voice cracked slightly at the last few words.

 Ethan's eyes flew open at that, or perhaps at the use of his name. In her distress, she had forgotten all about proper modes of address. 

As he looked at her, he seemed unmoved by the severity of the accident. Lilac's temper flared up before she could stop it, fueled by the terror of almost losing him forever. 

“How could you be so reckless?” 

His eyebrows shot up at that. “How is a house call reckless?” he asked patiently, almost as if asking her to explain a passage on immunization she had found interesting. 

“Going on horseback at the heels of a storm? Completely senseless,” she shot back. “You could've taken the carriage, as you always do.”

“I only took the carriage when you accompanied me,” he said calmly. 

A small pause in which the unspoken became evident to both. There was no need to use the carriage because she wasn’t his apprentice anymore.

 As though reading her thoughts, he shook his head, the movement making him wince slightly. “I am not implying this is in any way your fault. It was simpler to go on horseback, particularly when I was only going five miles to Kenmore.”

Lilac became very still at the mention of the estate. 

Moving her eyes away from his, she busied herself with cleaning more gauze with the carbolic acid. She could feel Ethan’s eyes watching her closely, sending a wave through her that made her feel feverish. It was astonishing how he always managed to do that without even uttering a single word. 

“You're bleeding again,” she observed when the silence reached its peak. 

Ethan said nothing as he continued to look at her. Something flickered in his eyes and she could swear he was willing her—begging her— to share something with him. 

It befuddled her. 

Unsure of what to say, she directed her attention to his wound. 

“Don't move,” she instructed softly. 

With a feather light touch, she dabbed the gash. Ethan hissed but otherwise did not protest as she worked. 

“How dire is the damage, Doctor?” he asked when she began dressing the wound. He uttered the word with utmost respect and it sent a thrill through her. 

Before she could manage a breathless answer, Lilac became acutely aware of how close they were from one another, close enough that a lock of her long, unpinned hair brushed against his naked chest as she worked. 

Ethan's hooded eyes traced its path. 

 Time stood still in the dim room, the air crackling with heavy tension. 

Ethan’s chest began to rise and fall in quick succession as he regarded her, making her fingers tremble. When she finished her work, she remained frozen in place, the heat of his body, the hypnotizing smell of his cologne, and the ardor of his eyes transfixing her entirely. 

Very slowly and with bated breath, she moved her eyes to meet his. 

He was watching her with a tenderness so pure and sincere, she was certain she would remember it until the day she died. The muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed, his face tense with a pained expression. He remained unmoving, as though afraid that any sudden movement might make her disappear. 

“Lilac,” he whispered, the sound so adoring, it tugged at her chest. 

Her fingers, which still rested on the fresh dressings of his wound, slowly trailed down his face. Ethan closed his eyes. 

“You should rest,” she whispered back. 

He was already obliging, his muscles relaxing under her touch. 

“Don't go,” he murmured, half conscious. 

Her throat constricted with emotion as she watched him succumb to exhaustion. The thought that she could have easily lost him forever sent a fresh shock of panic through her body. If that terrible prospect had become a reality, Lilac didn’t think she could survive it.

Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she pressed her lips gently to his forehead. The gesture felt so undeniably right that she decided then she was exactly where she belonged. 

At his side.

“I won't,” she promised as sleep claimed him. 

_______________

V.

Rain pattered gently against his bedroom window when he awoke, his body feeling like lead. He groaned when he shifted on the bed, pulling at his injured arm. His head throbbed painfully, and when he reflexively reached up, his fingers touched the neat dressings of a wound. 

The memories of her fingers against his skin came in a flash. 

Ethan sat bolt upright, instantly regretting the action as pain shot through his arm again. He swallowed it down, eyes scanning the dim bedchamber, desperate to see her. 

“She's not here,” Naveen said from the armchair in the corner of the room. 

Ethan sank back into the mound of pillows, his head threatening to split open. Unsolicited, the memory of Carrick's proclamation before the accident echoed in his mind. If his mental calculations were correct, the Kenmore ball was last night. 

“Right,” he said, masking all disappointment from his expression. “She is engaged now.” His chest felt oddly hollow at the words. 

A brief memory of the previous day replayed in his head. Lilac, so close to him that the lovely smell of her jasmine perfume tormented his senses. His half conscious whisper, begging her to stay with him instead of going to Kenmore. 

Naveen, on the other hand, was giving him an odd look that was equal parts befuddlement and concern. “That head injury is worse than I thought,” he said in response. “What on Earth are you going on about?” 

“The Kenmore ball,” he said simply as though that was enough explanation. His mentor looked even more confused and slightly more alarmed. Ethan pressed on, “Tobias Carrick was going to propose to Lilac at that ball.”

Naveen's eyebrows shot up. “Well, unless Tobias Carrick is gifted with telepathy, I can assure you that did not happen.”

Ethan blinked. 

His shock amused Naveen for he chuckled. “Miss Allende did not go to Kenmore last night,” he explained. “She's been at your bedside this whole time. Quite stubbornly, might I add.”

Ethan had no words, too overwhelmed by the sense of hope blooming in his chest. 

Another laugh from Naveen, before he added, “And even if that poor girl had left your bedside to attend a frivolous Kenmore ball, what makes you believe she would ever accept Lord Carrick? Should I really be that concerned for your head?” 

Ethan ignored this as a sudden urgency overtook him. 

Last night, he had felt only half awake and nowhere near coherent enough to properly tell her what he had realized before he fell off that horse, what his heart already knew and silently harbored for many months. Coming so close to death made him realize that he had to let her know, he had to tell her what threatened to make his chest burst. 

“Where did she go?” 

“She said she was going to the Edenbrook gardens for– Where are you going?” 

Ethan ignored Naveen's protests about bed rest.   

He found her twenty minutes later after a reluctant servant helped him get dressed. 

Unaware of his presence, she serenely walked down the cobblestone path, protected from the slight drizzle of rain by the thick foliage forming a lush, green tunnel. She wore a thick coat but no hat, her dark hair loosely pinned and falling in waves down her back. 

Among the flower beds lining the path, she looked a lovely addition to their midst. 

Lilac turned when he was mere feet away, surprise evident in her features, closely followed by disapproval. “Dr. Ramsey,” she said by way of greeting. “You should be resting.” 

“I had to see you,” he told her, foregoing any preamble. He was done concealing the truth. 

This made her pause briefly. 

When she recovered, she said, “I was to return in a few minutes.” Then gesturing toward the estate, she added. “We can go in together.”

When he made no effort to move, she arched a delicate brow at him. 

“What I have to tell you cannot be delayed.”

“What could possibly be so important that–” 

“I love you.” 

The three words, uttered so calmly and undeniably, adorned the long silence that followed. 

Looking entirely startled, Lilac inhaled a small breath, the air catching at her throat softly.

Before Ethan could lose his newfound bravery, he continued, “From the very first moment you assessed me with those brilliant eyes of yours I became enraptured. Unknowingly, I placed my heart in your hands, Lilac, where it stayed all those months we worked together and where it remains today.”

Her beautiful lips parted, eyes shining bright with an emotion he did not dare to analyze just yet. Somewhere above them, the rainfall hastened, droplets of water drumming against the dense canopy of leaves.

“Ever since that first time you broke into my study, your passion, your fierce determination inspired me to be a better man. I was–I am willing to give you anything you wish for. Even if that means a mentor or a friend or an advocate to march into St. Bard's and demand they allow you into their medical school. Anything you want, Lilac. I will not be thoughtless enough to make the choice for you again.”

“Ethan.”

The sound of his name from her lips was like a song and he briefly closed his eyes to worship it. 

“I was arrogant to push you away,” he continued, driving all his efforts at keeping his voice even. “I foolishly believed I knew what was best for you. I never once paused to ask you what you wanted. It made me no better than the people all around telling you what you can and can't be. For that, I hope you can forgive me someday.”

Another silence in which the only sound came from the rain falling softly over their heads. 

Lilac stared up at him, standing perfectly still, as though taking in his every word like a breath of fresh air. Very slowly, she moved closer to him, her face giving him no indication of her intentions. 

He held a breath, throat tight, heart beating wildly in anticipation. For a moment, he considered the possibility of her rejection and he instantly knew it would not matter. All he wanted was for her to know his true feelings, with no reservations and not expectation of anything in return.

After what seemed like an eternity, she moved even closer and took his hand. 

“You would give me anything I desire?”

“Anything.”

Her thumb skimmed over the ridges of his knuckles. Ethan glanced down, the sight of their joined hands overwhelming him with foolish hope. 

“You have already given me what I longed for the most,” she said, her face so sincere he had never been more captivated. “You have made me your equal.”

The rain was a torrent around them by now.

“All there is left is you. I want all of you, Ethan.” 

“You have me.”

And that was all the encouragement she needed. Closing the last few inches between them, she raised herself on the tips of her toes to kiss him. 

Though he remembered her kiss faithfully, his lips moved against hers in desperation, hoping to memorize their softness over and over again. Ethan's hands found their place at her waist, hers around his neck, their bodies fitting as perfectly as if they were designed to be that way. 

They remained as such, bodies and lips pressed together, until they were both breathless. 

Ethan pressed his forehead against hers. 

“I know you do not wish for a husband, otherwise I’d–” 

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Tobias Carrick,” he explained and Lilac pulled back slightly to roll her eyes. 

“I would never marry a man idiotic and presumptuous enough to announce an engagement before asking me,” she declared with such conviction that his desire for her multiplied. 

“My refusal to marry him stemmed from common sense,” she continued, every word against Carrick making it far more difficult for Ethan to keep his lips from hers. “Not from not wanting a husband,” she continued. “I wish to marry only the man I am desperately in love with.”

The deliberately charged look she gave him broke a smile across his face. 

He kissed her again. 

_______________

Epilogue

A year later. 

“A patient for Dr. Ramsey,” the servant announced at the door of their study. 

After the young girl’s departure, Lilac glanced up from her notes to shoot her husband a quizzical look. “Which Doctor Ramsey do you believe they seek?”

Ethan offered her a loving and equally charming smile, one he knew had a powerful effect on her. She tried not to be distracted by it, though she failed miserably. 

“Perhaps the best out of the two,” he replied. “Which undoubtedly means you, love.”

Lilac rolled her eyes and she bit her bottom lip, attempting to restrain a smile. 

Her husband’s eyes fell on her mouth at the movement, that familiar spark of longing glinting in their depths. In one swift movement, he crossed the length of the study and just as quickly, he had her in his arms and pressed against his desk. 

Her surprised yelp gave way to a peal of laughter. 

“We’re in the study,” she pointed out, breathless. Ethan did not seem to hear her as his lips had set to work on her neck. He made it very difficult to protest. “We can’t.”

“That’s never stopped us before,” he argued, his voice a hot whisper against her throat.

“I meant because we have a patient,” she returned. 

At that, he straightened and pressed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Right as always,” he murmured. 

Lilac took a brief moment before parting to study him, his beautiful, chiseled face sending a rush of heat through her. Those quiet, striking eyes surveyed her curiously. 

“What?”

“I love you,” she informed him. 

Ethan beamed, the simple gesture making him look younger. She would never tire of the sight as long as she lived. 

He pressed an adoring kiss to her hand. 

“As I love you.”

_______________

Author’s Note: I want to cry with gratitude if you made it this far in this crazy, thirteen thousand word saga. (I’ve never in my life written anything this long, so you have my gratitude forever). A big thank you to everyone who read, liked, and/or commented the other two parts. Your support means everything to me. I have no words, just love for you. 

Again, pardon the title. This one was named after a beautiful poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 

________________

Tags:  @openheart12 | @ethandaddyramsey | @noboundariesplease | @silverlitskies | @infinitiestones | @flyawayboo | @paulfwesley | @hatescapsicum | @myusualnerdyself | @thatysn | @choicesyouplayandmore | @chasingrobbie | @trappedinfandoms | @togetherwearerapture | @nooruleman | @caseyvalentineramsey | @axwalker | @parkerattano | @i-bloody-love-drake-walker | @kaavyaethanramsey | @edith-eggs1 | @choices-lurker | @jens-diamondchoices | @tefigranger | @ethanrcmsey | @coffeebeandragon | @senator-adrian-raines-wifey | @aestheticartwriting | @longneckramsey | @binny1985 | @mvalentine | @sanchita012 | @drethanramslay | @ramseysno1rookie | @lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite | @takeharryandgo | @aworldoffandoms | @desmaranj | @ josieplayschoices

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #My writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #Ethan ramsey x mc #dr. ethan ramsey #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

[luc1d-dr34m5]

ehhh decided to post thmes

The corn with the flowers on him is my own au of Steve cobs lol, the au is called Flooded garden, another Good Dad Cobs au that pelts trauma at Cobs

I need to doodle more of this au again

#inanimate insanity #ii gkgg au #Steve cobs #ii Steve cobs #ii Flooded Garden au #ii FG au

[kyzveryown]

Alternative — Protagonist Kairi, Part II

DISCLAIMER: This is a "What If?" scenario exploring a story where Kairi is the protagonist of Kingdom Hearts. There are major and minor differences from the series. This is simply my vision. You may consider this an AU fanfic.

HOLLOW BASTION — Riku Riku and Heartless-Xehanort arrive at Rising Falls outside of Hollow Bastion. Riku looks around; his eyes settling on the upward flowing waterfalls surrounding the shattered temples and pathways throughout the area. “So, this is another world huh…” he says. Heartless-Xehanort tells him that Radiant Garden, the name of this shattered world, used to be different. Over a decade ago, it was destroyed due to the invasion of Heartless. What remains are fragmented pieces and memories of what was once a world full of light. He tells Riku that’s what happens when a World Gate isn’t protected, and a world’s heart is tainted by darkness.

Riku asks why they’re trying to unlock the World Gates. Heartless-Xehanort explains that unlocking them isn’t the issue — it’s the darkness. Darkness breeds chaos and births the Heartless; demonic creatures that spread darkness and feed on hearts. The World Gates were constructed to protect the worlds from all threats of darkness. Unfortunately, doing so shutdown all communication and contact between worlds. The lanes that connected these worlds, the Lanes Between, have been flooded by Heartless. Because of that, only keyblade wielders and beings of darkness can traverse them.

In order to restore the connections between worlds, the Lanes Between must be cleansed. For that to happen, they must rid the universe of darkness. Unlocking the World Gates now would subject those worlds to the same demise that befell Radiant Garden. Riku questions why they wield darkness since it’s evil. Heartless-Xehanort tells him that darkness as power isn’t inherently evil. If one were to have complete control of it, along with an ironclad heart, then they can use it against malevolent darkness. “Darkness is only as wicked as the one wielding it” he says. Thinking back on the destruction his home world, Riku questions if they’re wicked for what they did. Heartless-Xehanort surprisingly answers “Yes”.

Heartless-Xehanort wanted Riku to be consumed by hatred so he could witness firsthand the threat darkness poses. And now that he’s seen it and lost what he cherished, it should motivate him to end it. He looks to the sky and continues, “The Great Heart. It’ll bring about the end of the darkness, and usher in a new age”, “A world where everything is connected, without pain or misery, and devoid of chaos. A world one can’t even begin to imagine”. He laughs, “It doesn’t seem realistic, does it? But I believe this world, this world of fantasy, will exist one day”. He apologizes for going off on a tangent.

He tells him before they get rid of the darkness, they have another matter to deal with. The Great Heart can only be summoned by a clash between light and darkness. They need to gather several hearts of pure light and force them to clash with a pure darkness. He mentions a friend of his has agreed to help them in exchange for a reward. A tall dark witch, Maleficent, enters from a dark corridor and annoyedly groans. “Would you stop babbling like a pestilent fool” she demands. He smirks, “I see you still have that habit of sticking your ears where they don’t belong. If you’re not careful, then you’ll hear something you’ll regret”. She asks if he’s threatening her to which he denies.

He introduces her to Riku, then tells her he’ll be working for her. Once they’ve gathered the pure lights, his job will be complete and Maleficent will get her due. He tells her not to work Riku too hard, reminding her that he’s valuable to them. She scoffs, “I’ll do whatever I please” then smirks. “By the way, I couldn’t help but notice you’re darker than usual. You should get that checked out”. He narrows his eyes and half smiles. “Oh, I intend to” he eerily replies. After he leaves, Maleficent looks at Riku then groans. “Well then, I suppose I'll make use of you”. Riku grins then says, “Yeah. Just tell me what to do”.

#kingdom hearts #scenario #story concept #fanfiction #fanfic #riku #xehanort #writing #stories #writer #kh fanfiction #maleficent

[curly-bangtan]

A Drop of Heaven II: Doll

[Series Masterlist]

Pairing: ot7 x reader // this chapter: Seokjin x reader, some Taehyung x reader

Series summary: Seven vampires have secretly been roaming the darks of your world for millennia. Each brother selects a Feed who becomes supernaturally bound to him, whose blood will be fed on until their inevitable mortal death. They have spent their eternity hunting for the exorbitant rarity that is angel blood - the most heavenly of food for vampires that fuel them with desire, lust and satiety. So what happens when they all find you, the first angel-blooded being they’ve encountered in two centuries?

Genre: vampire au, poly au, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (e2l)

Warnings in this chapter: blood drinking, mentions of abuse, obv blood and gore, kind subtle baby girl fetish?? oc has trust issues

Word count: 9k

A/N: This took me so much effort to write for some reason… SIGH I feel like it’s shit and disappointing cos it contains filler info that’s necessary for plot building. As for the lack of _smut_ (which ik is what y’all filthy animals are here for), I promise the next chapter will make up for it!!

[prelude, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, epilogue]

❦

“Here you go.”

The clang of the white floral-embossed porcelain dish against the glass surface of the dining table sounds particularly crisp to you ear. The fresh pungent seafood smell infiltrating your nostrils, strong and unmistakable, answering your gurgling stomach.

“Lobster truffle tagliatelle.”

You stare, gobsmacked, at the melon-sized plate of pasta placed in front of you. It’s been so long, so long, since you’ve had a remotely satiating meal. Eyes and mouth watering from the delicious scent, you almost don’t know where to start digging in.

“T-Thank you.” You remember to say, though it comes out as a stammer. The corner of Seokjin’s pursed lips turn up slightly, enough for it to count as a smile.

Fork in your hand trembling in excitement, you impale a large chunk of fresh juicy lobster and twirl a good portion of pasta around it. When the flavour touches your tongue, a grenade of bliss detonates in your mouth, flooding up to awaken the pockets of happiness in your mind that have laid dormant for a while. You can’t help the groan of pleasure that escapes almost indecently.

You stop mid-groan when you remember your whereabouts and present company.

“This is amazing. Thank you for cooking for me.” Clearing your throat, you thank Seokjin again. As you glance up at him, you notice the blush creeping on not his cheeks, but his ears. In any other circumstances, you would find it endearing.

“You’re welcome, it’s my pleasure.” He has a habit of not meeting your eye when he speaks to you, it hasn’t taken you even a day to notice, as his attention currently fixes on a particularly large blotch of oil stain on his cooking apron. “I… enjoy cooking.”

.

After the happenings yesterday, the taste of Namjoon’s blood still tingling the buds of your tongue, you have been trying to steer your mind away from him. You had learnt that vampires sleep during the day, while staying active at night. It had been Monday morning when Namjoon left you in the room after… that thing, and you haven’t seen him emerge from his room since, not even in the evening when he was supposed to be awake.

Good, you don’t want to even remotely think about that. Or him.

You hope you won’t have to encounter him again for the rest of the week now that your day with him is over. That sire bond magic… The memory of the carnal compulsion throbbing in your head and chest makes you shiver.

Is that going to happen with all of them? Because if so, you don’t know how long you can keep hold of your sanity.

So for the rest of the day yesterday, in the absence of your sire to dictate you around in his obnoxiously stern voice, you took it upon yourself to explore the manor and try find out more about this predicament you’re caged in. You made it not ten steps out your room in the eerie candle lit hallway when you stumbled across Hoseok. No, stumbling across is perhaps not the correct term. You have a feeling he had been lurking around, waiting for you.

In your weak-willed confuzzled state from the fixing of the sire bond, you could all but refuse to let him take you on a grand tour around the maze of a mansion the seven of them inhabit. Hoseok had leaped at your response, so enthusiastic, resembling a child receiving a brand new toy he had been begging his parents for.

Despite his constant unfailing smile, there is something quite uncanny about the red-haired vampire. If you look at him for long enough, you can spot the smallest spark of madness behind the glaze of his eyes.

Still, regardless of your hunch, you allowed him to tug on your freshly healed wrist after him. Last time you defied Namjoon, that happened. You didn’t dare to seek the repercussions of challenging another vampire, especially one appearing as eccentric as Hoseok.

Stunning is perhaps too little a word to describe this estate - this is a place of fairytales. Two stories high, a garden the size of a park, a swimming pool to supplement the natural rock pools and ponds, a fertile greenhouse, a library fit for royalty, an underground gym next door to the cinematic movie room… Almost all the facilities one would find in a town located under a single roof. On the second floor are the seven bedrooms, and though Hoseok didn’t take you into any of them, he explained that they are all ensuite and connected to another private room.

“It’s called the Feed room, where the Feed of each vampire resides. The room you were in earlier was Namjoon-hyung’s, his bedroom which he doesn’t allow his Feeds in is through the door opposite the bed.” The door through which he had fled, you had noted in your head. “We don’t normally enter each other’s Feed rooms - it’s disrespectful, invasion of an extremely intimate space.”

No wonder Namjoon had been so displeased with Jimin.

“I guess how it will work now that all seven of us are sharing you,” Hoseok continued. A muscle in your throat twitched at ‘sharing you’. “Is that at the end of every day at midnight, you will rotate to the next Feed room where whoever awaits you. Kinda like… speed dating, but with feeding, and minus the speed ‘cause it lasts a whole day, and also it’s a perpetual weekly cycle.” He let out a sudden burst of laughter, as if he had said something funny, but you found no humour in the situation.

A perpetual weekly cycle. For the rest of your life. Rotating between seven vampires every single day.

The malignant lump in your throat grows, suffocating you.

Hoseok paid no heed to your lacklustre reaction at his supposed joke, instead threw an arm around you and guided you down the corridor. You didn’t run into anyone else in the duration of the tour, no doubt because it was the middle of the day which meant the vampires were all fast asleep.

You wished you ran into someone, anyone, even Namjoon. The sole company of Hoseok was making you uneasy. His overt eagerness towards you, almost like a pet dog, threw you off your axes. Every time he reached out to touch you in some way, though it’s always a harmless friendly gesture, you suppress the instinct to move away.

He appears a very simple man, genuinely happy all the time, child-like cheerfulness, very easy going. But that is all the more reason to fear him. He can act like this with you now, as if you are his friend, yet will also show no mercy in drinking your blood. You still remember how fanatically impatient to feed on you he had been, practically pouncing at your collarbone once given the green light from his leader.

This gemini personality makes you unwilling to trust him one bit, regardless of his kind comical display.

As Hoseok dropped you off back at Namjoon’s Feed room to catch some rest himself, you wonder how he dared to leave you alone unattended. Surely you could sneak out while they’re all asleep and make your great escape.

You had sat at the edge of your bed plotting, deep in contemplation of whether to leave right now before it’s too late, or to earn their trust first. But what would they do if they ever found you again? Surely not kill you, they need you alive for your blood. Surely they won’t hurt you that much either, would they? But then there is also the problem of where to go. You have no home, no family apart from your uncle whose fate remains unknown, no money, no life to return to. What’s the point of escaping then? At least here, you serve a purpose, have a roof over your head and food cooked for you.

Though the harder you thought, the more a heavy exhaustion fell over you. Your daily routine would now have to be synchronised with these vampires, you would have to sleep during the day so you could be awake for them to feed on at night.

You fell asleep wondering whether it was the sire bond lulling you to slumber, among other things in you that it has control over which you do not know of yet.

.

“You enjoy cooking?” You ask curiously after chewing your enormous bite. “So vampires eat regular human food too?”

Seokjin pulls out the chair in front of you at the clothed banquet table and takes a seat. “Well, not really. I guess it’s just me. I find cooking kind of therapeutic and calming in a way, and even though it doesn’t satisfy my hunger, I might as well eat what I’ve cooked rather than let it go to waste. The taste took some time to get used to, human food tasted so strange at first, but I’ve learnt how to appreciate it now… You know?” As he speaks, his finger traces the gold embroidery on the black tablecloth. You oddly want him to look up and meet your eye, but he doesn’t.

You decide that you like Seokjin.

He possesses a soft, shy, delicate quality to him, and unlike anyone else you can tell with certainty that it isn’t a deceitful facade. He is almost very… normal. Namjoon, Jimin, Hoseok, you can believe to be vampires. Whereas with Seokjin, you can’t seem to comprehend.

“Well, you’re a great chef.” It is intriguing, peculiar, how he shows such interest in something as mundane as cooking. He has an eternity to live, yet he chooses to explore the food of mortals as his hobby. But judging by the way you had watched him cook, you suppose culinary skill is more of an art to him. You don’t know why you find that rather cute.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, finally glancing up to check your face only to quickly look back down at his hands when your eyes meet.

When the clock struck twelve at midnight, marking the start of a new day - Tuesday, your day with Seokjin, you woke up with a clearer mind. You would stay here, at least for a while longer, get a feel of this lifestyle, perhaps learn some of their secrets first before making the decision of whether to run away.

You hadn’t bother letting Namjoon know as you made your way to Seokjin’s Feed room. The place is significantly different from Namjoon’s; clean, creamy white, and a gold wardrobe full of laced garments. Very feminine. A note sitting on the pristine dresser wrote:

Good evening.

Please dress in the attire I’ve selected for you found in the wardrobe. If you have any problems, you are welcome to knock on my door to seek help.

- Seokjin

Already, you had taken a preference to him at that point. He seems polite, respectful, the opposite of Namjoon’s imposing rules.

“Why don’t you have some of the pasta? Not hungry?” You smooth over the crease of your ivory dress. It is very finely made, you don’t require an expert eye to be able to recognise; not only this but every piece of clothing in his closet for you. Where did they get all this money?

“Um, I…”

When his sentence fizzles out, you realise your mistake. Your ‘hungry’ is different from his ‘hungry’. He eats food for pleasure, not out of hunger; his thirst is only satisfied through drinking blood, of course. You feel stupid.

“Or… Thirsty?” Placing your silver fork down leaning against the plate, you wipe your mouth with a napkin.

Seokjin physically goes rigid, more so than before. “N-No, I’m fine.” The fabric of the tablecloth bunches up under his fist before he lets it loose. His lips are pursed tensely, rounding his spotless cheeks.

Somehow you aren’t convinced; he hadn’t said it with much conviction. But why conceal his thirst? For once, a part of you wishes for him to feed on you. Seokjin may be your only amicable ally in this house, your only way out even. Bridging the gap between the two of you could be of more use in the future than what you can imagine currently. Furthermore, despite yourself, you feel a sort of empathy towards him. No, maybe empathy isn’t the right word; it’s more like you see a potential of a friendship between the two of you, and you would like to understand him better.

The difference in your mood when you are with him compared to the others is quite drastic, you’ve noticed. You don’t feel bitter or defiant like with Namjoon, hesitant and timid like with Jimin, nor fearful and subdued like with Hoseok. You are at ease, his presence almost calms you though you can’t quite put your finger on the root of it. Perhaps it is because he is the only person thus far who you sense complete genuinity and even guilt from.

But you don’t push it. If he doesn’t insist on feeding, then he has his reasons. It just adds to his intrigue.

A silence falls over the both of you, with you preoccupied with your meal, which you don’t know whether to call it your lunch or dinner see as it is currently the middle of the night. Seokjin gathers himself and straightens, watching you devour his signature dish. He had woken up at the crack of dusk, just as the sunlight was trickling away into evening, to buy the lobster fresh from his well-acquainted vendor by the pier. It is always a nuisance to try to go unnoticed outside; he much prefers staying at home and avoiding the curious breed that is mankind. But he wanted to not only make you feel welcome, but also to impress you. Though you don’t need to know that.

Seokjin is sure your night with Namjoon could not have been a pleasant one. He has scolded his younger brother many-a-times before about being more lenient with his Feeds, but he is a stubborn self-righteous man. Seokjin knows he shouldn’t have but he couldn’t help but listen in on your argument with him, he blames it on the heightened hearing. Though, Namjoon’s Feed room quickly went very silent apart from a few whimpers, which he presumed was because he resorted to feeding to suppress you.

“So… I know this must not be great for you, it usually takes Feeds a while to accept and get used to their new life, but how are you coping with every?” You are surprised to find him meeting your eye and instigating such conversation. He knows he is shy, yet he is trying. At this rate, you will grow fond of him.

“Well.” You unconsciously pat your bloated belly, unaccustomed to having a full stomach; no matter how much you want to finish this glorious plate of pasta, you physically don’t think you can take another bite. “I think ‘not great’ is a slight understatement.” When he winces, you quickly retract your sour tone. “It’s just… a lot to take in. It is overwhelming, really, to be almost plucked out and inserted into a completely different world like I’m some character in a game. The whole supernatural magic thing, the sire bond, the blood drinking. I’m still trying to process it.”

“Of course, I understand that. Trust me, if I could have it any other way, I would.” There is a hint of melancholy in his voice, and his eyes seem to drift to a distant past that you wish to see too. “I guess it doesn’t help that we are all very different vampires fundamentally, with completely different methods of action.”

“Yes, I mean I have spent one day with Namjoon, and only have just briefly spoken to you, Jimin and Hoseok so I can hardly pass a solid judgement, but I can already sense your dissimilarities.”

“How was Namjoon by the way? Harsh, I imagine?” His gaze travels to your wrists, which you note he has been doing subconsciously quite often. Is it out of thirst? Or is it out of concern on whether you were mistreated?

“Namjoon-” Your heart lurches just from saying his name, and the coil that has loosened itself since the last time you thought about your debauchery begins to wind again. “Yeah, harsh.”

“You will have to forgive him. He is… particular about his ways, very set on regulations and discipline. To him, there is a very well-defined line between Feed, and everyone else. Though the rest of us are usually at least friendly with ours, he has always kept it a strict predator-prey relationship with his Feeds. He does not speak to them if not needed, does not see them unless it is to feed, does not allow himself to even converse with them lest they overstep the boundaries he sets. It is an obsolete way to live, as a vampire, yet flexibility and adaptability are not words that agree with Namjoon’s fundaments.”

That explains so much about Namjoon as a person. Perhaps he fears attachment and intimacy with one that he is supposed to view as no more than food.

“Right.” You ponder aloud, perplexed. “I guess I could understand that perspective. Tell me more, about all of you.” This insight into their characters is not only fascinating but is also such useful information, whoever you need to use it against in the future.

Seokjin hesitates, as if unsure he whether he is at liberty to reveal more. But to your relief, he continues.

“Yoongi, you really need to be careful with. I shouldn’t speak ill of him as his brother, but his methods with his Feed are… extremely questionable. A Feed usually lasts us a decade or more; Yoongi can drain his Feeds to death in weeks, even after healing them. The problem isn’t his thirst nor his self-control, it is his lack of empathy, his cruelty. The way he treats his Feeds are… inhumane. We aren’t human but we at least try to act civil, yet Yoongi embraces our nature as demons in its entirety. He doesn’t even try to act like he is more than the monsters we are. He is a sadist, loves to inflict pain, to crush pretty things in his fist...”

Your breath hitches. You had sensed his darkness from the moment you laid your eyes on him when you woke up to them surrounding your bed. He drains his Feeds in weeks? There is no way you’ll survive Yoongi alone, never mind all seven of them.

“And what day am I with him again?” Staring at your half empty plate, you feel your blood draining from your head. Even his own brother admits that he is a monster, you can’t begin to imagine what he will actually be like with you.

“Wednesday, tomorrow.”

It’s like being shoved down a great chasm. The pure dread dripping like acid down your throat as your heart sinks.

You thought Namjoon was bad, but somehow the thought of being bossed around by him sounds extremely pleasant compared to being with Yoongi. And you are going to be alone in his Feed room as well... With no one to stop him to hurt you however he wants… Surely someone will step in if he takes it too far right? Surely, now that they are sharing a Feed? Please?

Flashbacks to your uncle’s fist connecting to your temple flare in your mind, the way he would smile every time he drew blood as if it were some sort of achievement. But you’ve been tortured before. You’ve had it all.

Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared.

You’ve had it all.

You’ve suffered and survived. You can suffer and survive again.

When Seokjin notices the slight trembling at your throat, how your eyes are frozen and glazed over as if in a trance, he quickly says, “Look, don’t worry, Y/N. If he takes anything too far, seriously harms you in anyway, let me know and I will make him stop.”

You blink at Seokjin. And wonder quietly how someone as soft-spoken and gentle as him could command a devilish psychopath. You appreciate the offer, you trust his kindness, you just don’t believe he would be capable of stopping his brother from doing what he wishes if Yoongi with you is as he described.

“Why is he like this..?” Why are there men like him and your uncle? And why can you never escape them?

“He…” Seokjin sighs. “Yoongi was not always like this. We have lived for a really long time, have been through a lot of misery that we all cope with in our own ways. The Yoongi I knew two millennia ago is still in this husk of a man, deep down. He thinks detaching from his emotions, creating this evil persona of himself is the only way he can continue living for eternity. We’ve all tried to help him, trust me, we have. It’s heartbreaking to see someone you love-”

His voice catches in his throat, and you glance up at his face, beautifully contorted in such a candor pain, plump bottom lip jutted out. You pity him. It is torturous to love a monster, worse for immortals.

“I understand it must be.” You quietly say, unsure of how to console him. These vampires, the complexity and depth of their issues are nothing you can ever relate to. You can offer no advice except your sympathy.

You try not to think about how your encounter with Yoongi, the creature so sick and twisted that it broke his brothers’ hearts, is tomorrow. You hate him already.

Desperate to wipe off the sorrow in Seokjin’s features that constricts your heart, you swiftly change the topic. “Tell me about your other brothers. Hoseok? Jimin? Taehyung?”

Seokjin’s eyes widen, as if awoken from deep thought, a redness tinting his face as if embarrassed from the vulnerability he accidentally displayed. “Right.” After clearing throat, his voice resumes its stability. “I guess you should also be careful around Hoseok; he is rather wild and unpredictable, sort of takes everything with a dash of humour, but is also the one with the worst self-control out of us all. He’s impatient and childish, hasn’t really seem to have grown out of his teenage mentality even after two thousand years.”

Just as you predicted. You gulp. This is an improvement from Yoongi, but so is everything. Is that really the standard you’re measuring against now? Seokjin sees the concern in your expression.

“But-” he quickly says, “his intentions are never malicious in any form. I can’t stress enough that he is really just a child at heart who wants to find light in every situation, so don’t let his moods scare you.”

“He does seem… rather odd.” Borderline lunatic, but that would be too rude to call him to his brother. Maybe you are being rude and quick to judge. When did you become like this?

To your surprise, Seokjin lets out a chuckle. You watch his eyes crease in genuine humour, a sight that makes you smile without reason. “Yes, he is very odd. But you will grow to appreciate or even like his personality. Truly brightens your day.”

Oh? You can’t say you believe him. So far, with the exception of Seokjin maybe, you don’t trust any of these vampires. You don’t see yourself ever letting your guard down around them in the future.

“Now Jimin, he wears his heart on his sleeve - very affectionate and loving with his Feeds, almost the polar opposite from Yoongi. He only sires females, and more times than not he falls in love with them. Actually, forget more times than not, I mean every time.”

That both surprises and doesn’t surprise you. It surprises you because it means that tenderness he had shown towards you had not been false afterall. Yet it doesn’t surprise you because in your heart you had believed him when he said he values and respects you, and those emotive eyes of his cannot lie.

Does this also means he will fall in love with you?

You don’t know how to feel. It is oxymoronic to you, for his prey to also be his lover. But what scares you is that, if the sire bond had caused such a drastic change in the dynamic between you and Namjoon, you can only imagine how strongly it will hit a romantic dreamer like Jimin.

And you. Will you fall in love with him too?

“That surely isn’t wise; he must get devastated when his Feeds… pass away.” You ask, and Seokjin’s shrug conveys the same lack of understanding for his brother’s ways as you.

“His coping mechanism is to find a new Feed to fall in love with as quick as possible, find someone to replace that void in his heart. I can sympathise with the appeal of love, we have lived for so long, it gets lonely for someone as affectionate as Jimin who always seeks another half.” At the word lonely, your eyes meet, and for a second you swear you can feel Seokjin resonating with the feeling.

You get the urge to reach out to hold his hand across the table and tell him that he isn’t alone now, though you don’t know why. But you just stare at his creamy unblemished skin and reply, “Oh.”

It shocks you, the urge of emotions you sometimes feel for this man before you, despite knowing him for not a week. You truly, truly want to comfort him. He seems so pure, so undeserving of the title of a vampire. Confusion whirls in your mind.

“As for Taehyung. Oh, Taehyung…” Seokjin sighs in a way that instantly makes you even more interested in the boy he speaks of. “He has many layers to him that will slowly be peeled to reveal a heart of gold, but first you need to endure his mystery and mischief. He may appear unreadable and confusing at first - he’s always had this strange duality to him, but in the end he forms such deep bonds with his Feeds. He is very picky when selecting his Feed, it takes him the longest time to choose one as his taste buds are peculiar and he always assesses the person as a whole rather than settling for any blood.

“He likes to spoil them with riches, designer clothes, sparkling diamonds, anything they desire. Feeds are more like friends then food to him, perhaps on the other extreme from Namjoon. Not only this, he is kind to all of our Feeds too. Him and Jimin often like to share or swap Feeds, as long as one of them doesn’t get to jealous and possessive. He hides his compassion behind his rascal playfulness, but really, he grieves the loss of his Feeds the most out of us all.”

In the blur of your memory, you remember Taehyung as the blonde devilishly handsome boy who was the first to dig his fangs into you. You had been so susceptible to his charm, had leaned into his touch because you had wanted him. Now Seokjin is telling you that this boy is a deeply emotional being who treasures his Feeds as companions?

Should you perhaps not place so much trust in Seokjin? Afterall his opinion on his brothers will of course be biased. Or maybe it is your own judgement that you should doubt. You had been quick to decide on how you view these vampires with the prejudice that they are uncivilised beasts. Yet their complexities have been proven time and time again, shedding the misconceptions you had doled them in your head.

You shall reserve your judgement from now on.

“Also, he will probably ask you to be his muse.”

“Muse…?”

“Yes, Taehyung loves to paint.” Seokjin smiles down at the patterns of the tablecloth to himself with a glimmer of pride for his brother’s artistry.

“Talking about me behind my back, hyung?” A rich voice appears behind you so abruptly that you jump out of your seat, startled, your chair falling back loudly. The clang echoes up the tall walls of the dining room.

Before you can look back, you hear the newcomer effortlessly pick up the fallen chair and push it towards you until its cushioned edge hits the pits of your knees. You smell him before you see him, a fresh almost fruity scent.

“Careful there, Y/N. Can’t contain your excitement to see me?” As he whispers in your ear, an ice cold shiver runs down the course of your back, his breath tingling your skin like teasing fingers.

When you finally get the chance to fully take in his appearance, your legs almost give in and plop right down onto the chair. Some people are so stunning that every time you look at them feels like the first time, their beauty never ceases to strike at you, rendering you completely defenseless. You want to say the culprit is his eyes, but then you see the glorious arch of his nose, and Michaelangelo-painted lips. If Seokjin’s beauty is an iridescence flawlessly-round pearl, Taehyung would be the sharp vibrant amethyst glittering like an undiscovered galaxy.

His tongue swipes out to wet his lips. Something inside you screams.

“Taehyung-ah, it’s impolite to lurk around, and especially rude to intrude on a conversation that does not involve you.” Seokjin chastises, standing up as well to mirror your stance. Suddenly, he sounds quite authoritative, not dictating like Namjoon, but stern, imperious. Unlike his timid tone with you previously.

“Sorry, hyung.” Taehyung expels a childish puff of air through his nostrils and puckers his lips. “Just wanted to see our dear angel over here.”

He stares at you with such an overt desire, almost lewly, that you feel something crawl beneath your skin. You take a step back closer to the table and turn to face Seokjin, if only to save your senses from imploding.

“You may wait your turn to get to know her, like everyone else.” The older vampire states, and though irritation should be ticking his handsome visage, you find a softness in its place.

And once again, you catch a glimpse of the extensive love and tenderness Seokjin feels for his brothers despite their behaviour and his role to keep them in line as the eldest.

“I know, I know.” Taehyung doesn’t step towards you despite noticing the distance you’ve placed. From his tight jaw, you can tell that patience is perhaps not his strong suit. It is straining him. “Only wanted to say hi.” He grumbles, still pouting.

This boyish mannerism is a guise, you remind yourself, masking the sophisticated soul Seokjin was describing. But why? You don’t understand all these impostures they like to put up. Why must they exhaust themselves by constantly playing games of Hide and Seek?

“Well there you go. Y/N and I will get going now, Taehyung.” Seokjin strides around the long dining table to reach your side. As he approaches, you watch his broad shoulders swing from side to side, an irony against his gentle personality.

“Shouldn’t you wash the dishes first, hyung? Can’t leave dirty plates lying around.”

Humour does not find Seokjin’s face, but it does yours. This Taehyung is a daring one to test his brother like this. You glance over to find the same mirth glinting in his ocean blue eyes. You look back at your feet to stifle a giggle.

“I-” He lets out a resigned sigh. “Fine, I will do them right now, don’t you worry. Y/N,” you face him as he address you, and three feet away, his skin looks just as porcelain clear, “why don’t you meet me in my Feed room?”

“I’ll escort her.” Taehyung quickly chimes in.

You hear a noise of protest before you are whisked away by a large palm on the small of your back. When you turn your head back, you see Seokjin shaking his in disapproval and pushing his hair back to reveal the pale curve of his forehead. The action flusters you for some reason.

But then you are keenly aware of the vampire beside you, guiding you out the room towards the grand staircase. The pounding of your heart grows heavier, nervous, scared even. As you peek up at him, Taehyung meets your eye, that serpentine tongue sliding out again. Matching his meandering pace, the both of you walk up the stairs wordlessly. The polished rail happily meets his fingertips as he slides them along the bannister. Your mind scrambles to anticipate what he’ll do next.

At the penultimate step, he makes an abrupt halt. You take your final step onto the landing before your legs know to cease motion as well. And with one wrong turn of you foot, you make the mistake of spinning towards him.

With the height leverage, you are at eye level with each other. Nose to nose, breath to breath. You twisted so quickly out of surprise for his sudden stop that he has to catch you by your waist to prevent you from toppling onto him.

Satan...

It has to be black magic cloaking this boy because you find yourself being sucked into him no matter how lethal he appears.

“Sweet angel.” He takes in your face as if you are a work of art, and now your heart is racing. Because the way he looks at you is the way so many girls dream and dream to be regarded by beautiful men like him with even just an inkling of the longing in his eyes.

“I have turned this world upside down looking for you, you have no idea…” Slender fingers snake to the back of your hips, shooting a flaming arrow up your spine until it is tingling your scalp. You notice the subtle difference in his tone from before, more gentle, less fanatic. “And now I’ve found you. So please understand and forgive my forwardness, I really cannot contain my need for you.”

All you can do is blink at him.

“Uh…” The flattery that his words imbues in you sits in your stomach, tumbling your insides into a tight knot. The feeling of being wanted, needed...

Taehyung lightly tugs on your waist until your hips are touching. When he leans into you, you hold your breath, frozen, watching his lips near yours. But rather than meeting your own lips, they skim past the corner of your mouth, the sensation sending a hot pulse down to your core. His mouth puckers at your cheek, kissing it with a delicacy that you don’t expect from him.

You can’t tell whether the drop of your heart is from relief or disappointment that he didn’t kiss you.

If anyone had tried such an intimate gesture with you, especially a stranger you hardly know, you would’ve kicked them in the shin, or at least yell and pull away. But for some reason, you revel in the smoothness if his lips on your skin, like a cool silken handkerchief brushing against your face.

You lean in, feet digging into the wooden floor to ground yourself. Your fingers toy with the fabric of your dress to remind yourself that this is real.

His lips travel to your ear, breath tickling the sensitive microscopic hairs on your face. “You don’t have to be shy with me, okay?” His voice tunnels into your ear, like a hand reaching into you and tying up your lungs. “You don’t have to pretend not to yearn for me.”

It is a bold assumption he is making, but it is also a true one.

You do yearn for him, in more ways than you can comprehend. The fibres that make up your being goes against the logic in your brain that tells you to hate this blood-sucking demon. But the sire bond hasn’t even been set between you two yet, has it?

Taehyung takes his last step up the staircase to arrive beside you, hands not quite leaving your hips but rather falls loosely to your side. Incapable of uttering a word, you allow him to lead you along the U-shaped corridor, passing door to door that only differ by the gold initials engraved in the dark mahogany wood. Until you arrive before one with SJ - Feed carved.

“Thank you for walking me.” You say although it’s more him who is grateful for the opportunity to spend time with you.

“It’s my greatest pleasure, of course.” Dipping his head, you catch a glimpse of the most dashing of smiles that allows the tip of his fang to peak through. Are they permanently unsheathed?

In the silence that follows, you wonder about the other vampires, their current whereabouts, whether they can hear your conversation with Taehyung. It is eerily quiet, and this house is large enough for your voice to echo. Can they all overhear Taehyung’s brave advances towards you? Can Seokjin?

“I guess this is my least favourite part of our journey - parting.” Taehyung brushes a stray wisp of hair behind your ear. Then the mischief returns to his voice as he suddenly lunges and nibbles on your earlobe, fangs deliberately missing your flesh. “From now on, you will find yourself looking forward to our time together. I promise you, Saturday will soon become your favourite day of the week.”

Then he’s gone.

This vampire speed is beginning to get on your nerves. How dare they always take advantage of this ability to flee at the most convenient times?

Though it’s not like you would’ve been able to muster a response anyway. Taehyung has a talent in extracting all function from your brain.

You enter Seokjin’s Feed room and slump against the door. Truly exhausted from the interaction with such an unpredictable, intoxicating being. You actually begin to miss the older vampire, the comfort and security he provides.

It is interesting, though, how Seokjin has chosen a whole wardrobe of clothes for you. He hadn’t been insistent on you wearing them, but it’s not like there has been any provided alternative to the white-pink paletted, almost lolita-styled outfits either. You pad over the closet and swing the doors wide open from the gold knob. Today you had picked one of the plainer, more neutral white dresses, devoid of any lace unlike almost every article of clothing in this wardrobe.

So Seokjin likes lace, huh?

You pull open the underwear drawer, hand running through the rows of neatly folded panties. You imagine how flustered he must have been while folding these, and smile to yourself. Your fingers encountered a larger piece of undergarment. Hooking it out, the fabric falls open, revealing an ivory lace bodysuit dangling from your finger.

Yet what makes your eyes bulge are the suspender straps that hang from the bottom.

Oh.

Why has he chosen…

Oh?

You feel a strange sense of perversion as you line it against your body and look into the mirror. Does he wish for you to wear this? Surely not the shy Seokjin you were speaking to?

But then you look around the room and notice a very blatant preference that he has. Gold-rimmed white bed frame, pink-accented white sheets, pearl-embellished white curtains. The entire room is washed over with a pure, almost infantile aesthetic.

And when it clicks in your head, you recognise how obviously this corresponds with and reflects Seokjin’s clean appearance and virtuous nature.

Hesitant, you shed your dress and try on the body suit. To your amazement, its sheer material fits you like a second skin, hugging your body at your hips and bosom espeically. You inhale in wonder at your own reflection, marvelling how good you look in this garment.

Never have you worn anything that has made you feel remotely as sensual, as titillating.

Your appearance is an oxymoron; you look so innocent with the little bows and floral web, yet so provocative with the neckline revealing your cleavage and ass completely exposed by the thong cutting. A wave of cold hits you, and your nipples respond.

The door behind you opens.

In the mirror, your eyes meet Seokjin’s as he immediately freezes at the sight of you, one foot stepped into the room. And for a horrifying moment, your heart plunging down to earth’s core, your reflections just stare at each other. Utterly mortified.

There’s a glint in his eyes that stirs something in your stomach.

“Shit!” You shriek when you regain your awareness of the situation. Seokjin swiftly slams the door shut as he exits the room, yelling a stuttering apology from outside. You quickly dig out a pale pink sweatshirt and matching joggers, the most concealing outfit you can find, and throw it over yourself.

Your face is burning. You don’t know how you can face him again after he’s seen you in that... that sheer lacy lingerie...

A knock sounds from the door, slow and hesitant. “Um, are you… dressed?” His voice wavers.

You wait a second to get yourself together before answering, “yes.”

When he enters this time, both your eyes are fixed on the wooden floor. Seokjin’s ears are bright red, almost as vibrant as his pursed lips. His own heart is hammering, the image of you dressed in that bodysuit refusing to leave his mind. He is scolding himself for even allowing such a thing to happen. Has he no manners? How could he just barge into a lady’s room like that unannounced?

Awkwardness brews between you two until he manages to gather his voice. “I’m truly so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t think you’d be-” His breath hitches. “I-I should have knocked. I’m sorry.”

You glance up at him, cheeks still aflame, to find him frowning at his feet, so clearly screaming at himself in his head. So you say, “It’s fine. It was an accident, you didn’t know.”

Sitting yourself onto the end of the bed, you watch him stay standing by the closed door, motionless still. There is now a tension in the air, like the wall of privacy that separates you two has been breached.

“Um… You don’t have to… stand all the way there, you know?” You say to him, hoping to ease his discomfort. Hell, he seems more uncomfortable than you do.

Seokjin looks up, nods nervously and sits a meter away from you on the bed. You almost see the clockworks ticking in his brain, trying to find the words to say to you to lessen the weird atmosphere.

“I didn’t expect you this soon.” You mutter, also trying to find a way to communicate that it’s okay.

“I washed up quickly.” The image of Seokjin doing the dishes in vampire speed in fear of Taehyung trying anything on you actually spreads your lips into a grin. Your unexpected amusement surprises him, and he finds himself smiling as well.

When you look at each other, the tension begins to ebb away, the both of you starting to find humour in this stupid situation. You heart warms, and you decide in this moment that, yes, you want to grow closer with Seokjin. You haven’t had any sort of companion in a while, your sister the only exception, and though you have gotten accustomed to the solidarity, you often find yourself craving for someone who understands you, who’s always there to talk to you.

And thus far he has been nothing if not open and honest with you. Answering your questions, helping you ease into this new life.

“I want to ask you about your sixth brother.”

Seokjin blinks at you. “Jungkook?”

“Ah right, that’s his name.” There are seven vampires in this house, yet you have only really encountered six of them. That time when you had first woken up on that bed, only six of them had fed on you. You thought you had seen someone lurking in the corner of the room, yet in your delirious overwhelmed state, you hadn’t paid much attention. You haven’t met him since. “Where is he? How come I haven’t seen him at all?”

The sigh you get in response percolates your intrigue. “Jungkook doesn’t feed.”

You think you’ve misheard him at first. “Sorry?”

“Jungkook doesn’t feed.” He states with such certitude. “He drinks from blood bags only. Sundays will be your day off; I don’t suppose you’ll see much of him even then, I guess you’d be able to do whatever you wish on his days.”

Your gratitude is overshadowed by your curiosity. Why would he, a vampire, choose to drink stale blood when there is a fresh option? “Wait, how come?”

Another one of those strained sighs, like he is frustrated with his brother for being this way, but not quite. “It… isn’t really my place to tell his story. He used to feed, but all you need to know is that now he doesn’t want to anymore.”

You take this as a sign to not prod on this matter anymore, you shall seek answers elsewhere at some point. But now you’re immensely interested. What kind of story is it that he isn’t permitted to tell?

“I understand.” You nod, feigning apathy.

He seems relieved by your reply, no longer having to tread carefully around a sensitive matter. But then you ask-

“What about you, Seokjin?” His name still feels foreign on your lips, the syllables not quite coming naturally to you yet. “We’ve spoken about all your brothers, so what about you?”

Taken aback by your forwardness, he stares at you slightly dumbfounded. “I… There’s nothing much about me.”

From his eyes, you see that he isn’t lying deliberately, yet you don’t believe him. He himself just doesn’t realise his own peculiarities perhaps.

“Oh? Surely there’s something.” You glance at the wide distance across the bed between where you are sitting. You want to inch closer, it feels odd to sit so far from someone you’re speaking to.

“I mean, I like to cook, to read, to keep the house in order I guess…” His eyes trail to his knees, returning to the bashful state he was in. You don’t expect too much. You’ve just met, he isn’t going to pour his heart out to you upon your request. If he had asked you the same question, you would’ve shrivelled up into a raisin and not be able to answer either.

You’ll go about it in a different way then.

“That’s fair. But I wonder why you haven’t fed on me yet.” You cringe at your own words because it almost sounds like you are asking him to. “Isn’t the whole point of… all of this... for you guys to feed on me?”

Again, he stares at you, perplexed and kind of surprised.

“I mean… I just- Wait why do you want me to feed on you?”

“I never said that.” It’s your turn to be ruffled, your voice comes out higher pitched than you would like. “I was just wondering, like, what is my purpose if you’re not going to do what you’re keeping me here for? I just don’t understand…”

You hope he doesn’t think you do want him to feed on you. Because you don’t. You don’t.

“I just…” He sighs again. Seokjin is apparently a sigher. “I try to keep feeding to the minimal.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like the idea of it.”

A vampire is telling you he doesn’t ‘like the idea of’ drinking blood, especially the celestial blood you possess. You would’ve scoffed if it were anyone else.

“You mean, like Jungkook?” You take greater care now as you speak, not wanting to prickle any nerve. His whole demeanour has softened, reduced even. When you lean closer, hovering over the space between you, he gets startled.

“Not really, well, kind of but…” You wait patiently for him to formulate his next words, pitying his difficulty in doing so. One second. Ten seconds. Twenty. “I just hate it.

“I’ve always hated it. I hate how I have to inflict pain onto someone in order to feel satiated. I hate how good I feel when drinking someone’s blood, so good that I can’t even register their cries for help. I hate the guilt afterwards that just festers in my mind the more I look at my Feed. Everything about it is so wrong. I still remember the first time I fed one someone, how I cried and hid for days afterwards at the beast I’ve become. The others can do it so easily, so remorselessly and naturally, and I wish I could be like them but I can’t. And the worst part of it is that I’m stuck with myself for eternity, with no escape from this never-ending thirst. I hate being a vampire.”

The weight of his words land blows in your heart. Never did you even remotely expect his underlying motive to be self-loathing, and now you see clearly from his perspective. You remember the guilt flashing in his eyes when they had all fed on you days ago. To have the necessity of living be everything that you stand against must be so agonising. When you look at him again, you see him through a different lense. You understand his reservations, his sighs and stutters.

You also note how he said ‘the beast I’ve become’. Become. They were once not vampires. And that makes it more tragic because you can imagine how he misses that life.

You don’t know what else to do other than to throw your arms around him. You have never been a person of much affection, especially after how the past few years have worn you down and stripped you of anyone dear. Yet at this moment, you can think of no better way you express your sympathy and rapport.

Seokjin tips back from the impact of your embrace, looks down at your face buried in his side. He’s frozen, shocked by your action, blushed from your touch.

“You don’t hurt me.” You pull away before he has the chance to hold you back, and his chest cinches at the missed opportunity. “I’ve been hurt before. You don’t hurt me.” His beautiful features contorts in confusion, nose scrunches.

Slowly, you bring your arm up towards him as you scoot to close the distance. “Here. Just feed.”

If there’s one vampire you’d willingly let feed on you, it is the one before you right now, who had broken down crying at his first taste of blood.

“N-No!” He looks at you, bewildered, yet still so so handsome.

“Even if you don’t, someone else will. Don’t starve yourself just to save me from the pain. I’m well-acquainted with it now, trust me.”

Seokjin glares at your wrist, at your silky untainted skin, scars hidden away and buried much deeper beneath the surface. Inhale, exhale. Contemplating. Fibre by fibre caving into his temptations. He knows he has to feed sooner or later. Maybe it’s best that it’s sooner, so his appetite is less severe and the damage he inflicts is kept to the minimal.

His delicate fingers come to support your hand as he brings it close to his nose and takes a long sniff. Eyes widening, he drops your arm in an instant.

“Come on, stop worrying.” You persist.

“No, it’s not that. Give me your other wrist, this one smells like Namjoon.” It’s your turn to stop breathing. Why did he have to say his name? Now you are reminded of the way he kissed you so desperately, and how your body sang in lust for him when that sireship formed despite the protest of your logic.

But at the same time, something in your core flutters at his comment. As if Seokjin had felt an ounce of territoriality, like he doesn’t want to touch anything that his brother has.

Wordlessly you pass him your right wrist. Your eyes meet as he opens his mouth, allowing his fangs to extend. Then the familiar blackness starts to overtake his irises, dark veins running around his eyes. “Look away.” Something in his voice cracks you heart, the shame.

“No. It’s okay, Seokjin.” With the hand that isn’t held in his, you carefully cup his face to face yours, thumb softly brushing the pulsing protrusions of vessels. The darkness in his eyes holds no true darkness at all though, you see through it. He can’t and won’t hurt you. There isn’t a single drop of fear inside you. Trust.

“I’m sorry.” And with that he sinks his teeth into you.

You brace yourself for the wrenching pain, yet in its place is a violent bloom of emotion. You feel. You feel so much. You feel everything he is feeling, the guilt, the disgust, the desire to be anything but what he is. You keep feeling and feeling.

Your mind feels as though it is melting into Seokjin’s, and your eyes shut from the violence of this godly force, attempting to make sense of it all. There is a roaring in your head yet the room is silent. The bond is forming, intangible molecule by intangible molecule. The pounding in your chest mirrors his own as he takes small suppressed gulps. His essence tickles your own, much like his tongue lapping your skin.

Why isn’t this hurting?

At this thought, you begin to feel a stinging at your wrist, as if the pain is slowly being summoned my your awareness. You try not to think about it, open your eyes and try to distract yourself with the pink tussocks of his hair that have somehow found its way through your fingers. You wonder if he’s feeling the same powerful binding as you are. The way he is hunched over your wrist right now, like a little timid kitten…

Then you notice that you legs are somehow over his lap. When did this happen? Yet you don’t move them off.

Your wrist is now starting to burn, the pain growing and growing by the second. But it is almost as if he could sense this because he pulls away at the right moment before it could hurt more.

He doesn’t look at you at first, turned away, the back of his hand dabbing at his mouth. When he does look at you, his eyes have returned to their human form, glassy warm brown, filled with the same turmoil that is tangling you. Lips tinted with your red.

You want to ask if the sire bond is always this violent, this overwhelming.

Instead you kiss him.

❦

@taexxxiiaa @serendipity-secrets @killcomet @askingtheimportantthingshere@blackpanther4550 @comingjimin @unatempesta-dipensieri @dapppphhhhh  @unatempesta-dipensieri @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @queerloser17 @linyi-lovbts @somewhereinthestarss @xxqueenwxtchxx @whitefeatheredwyvern @embrace-themagic @brokencrownqueen @i-dont-even-know-fck @bangtandimples @kalkeegan @beetaeass @confessionsofascientist @chimycthulhu @hisunshiine

❦

25/10/2019

© Copyright 2019

#bts #bts smut #bts vampire au #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts x reader #bts poly au #ot7 x reader #namjoon #namjoon vampire au #vampire!namjoon #seokjin #seokjin vampire au #vampire!seokjin #seokjin x reader #yoongi #yoongi vampire au #vampire!yoongi #hoseok #Vampire!Hoseok #taehyung #taehyung vampire au #jungkook #jungkook vampire au #curly-bangtan #curly-bangtan adoh

[svnflowery]

a reason to stay - p.js

pairing: jisung x reader (feat. Jeno, Jaemin, Taeil)

word count: 5k

genre: prince!au, fencer!au, fluff with a tiny dash of angst

warnings: none

a/n: it’s 4am and i really just want to post this - not revised sorry if you find some nonsense

i

The soft breeze cools your body temperature down, making you sigh in content. You kick the little pebbles in the street road, bored out of your mind, wondering why on earth did your mother force you to go out in this hot, almost hell-like summer weather. You heard her voice and looked up, somewhat hopeful of her letting you go run free to play with the butterflies that live in the palace’s garden. But to your disappointment, she was chatting with an old woman that sold fabrics. Whenever you saw her, she always exclaimed about how much you had grown up from last time even though you didn’t remember her at all.

You let out a deep sigh full of boredom. Fiddling with your shawl, you tugged at your mom’s skirts to get her attention, but your attempts were fully ignored. With a huff you shrugged your little shoulders and walked away, looking for something to entertain you.

You found a small market stall after about five minutes and your eyes glowed with interest at the intricate-looking toys displayed.

“You like them?” asked the owner, an old man with a mysterious aura, smiling at you.

You nodded and looked at him intently before jumping in realization, “you don’t have teeth! Like me!” You smiled widely, tugging at your lips to show the old man, who was now laughing, your missing, small tooth.

“Yes, you are right, little lady. Very observant,” he praised you, patting your head.

You made your way around the small stall, observing each toy with your big, curious eyes carefully. They were animal-like dolls, with hand-stitched patterns and shiny buttons as eyes. You were about to ask the old man about them when you heard your name being called, realizing it was your mother. You waved quickly at the man before fleeing again, trying to hide from your mother by taking random turns in between the city streets.

When you stopped hearing her voice you stopped running, out of breath and sweat forming on your forehead. You sighed, relieved, before exploring the market stalls again.

A smell quickly caught your attention and you obediently followed it, discovering a small bakery. The bread smell flooded your nostrils and made your mouth water. The shop was cozy, with a stone oven incrusted on the wall and a little counter displaying all types of buns, bagels, and pancakes. You must have been making heart eyes at the food, because a boy, about ten years older than you, giggled at the sight and asked you if you wanted to take one. “I don’t have money,” you pouted. Looking at him with sad eyes. He thought for a moment before looking behind him to verify his master wasn’t looking when he quickly handed you a small, slightly wonky bun. You gasped in delight and thanked him excitedly, alerting his master with the loud and sudden sound. She turned around and looked at the scene before hitting the boy’s arm.

“Taeil! For the nth time, you can’t go around giving food for free!”, the young boy, as you now knew as Taeil, rubbed his neck in embarrassment. “Sorry, Grandma, she just looked hungry and...” The old woman sighed in desperation shaking her head. You anticipated her scolding and quickly thanked the man before getting out of the shop, munching happily on your little bun.

The streets had gotten a little busier now, with people rushing around buying groceries, some nobles just strolling around or even a few knights guarding the busy city.

You noticed a painter in the middle of the avenue and went running towards it to check out the pictures closely when you got bumped furiously to the side, halting your run and making you fall in a more secluded street.

You stood up rubbing your head, looking around to see the source of your fall when you noticed a few kids not older than two or three years, had surrounded you.

“Give us your clothes!” screamed one, snatching your shawl away. You noticed he had dirt all over his clothes, which were ragged and old. Opening your eyes in realization, you remembered that day your mother had told you about the poor kids who assaulted people like you in hopes to get some valuable items. Your mother seemed to be disgusted by them, but you pitied them.

“If you wanted my clothes you could have asked nicely!” you scolded them, making them stop their actions and look at you like you had just grown a third eye. “It’s for food, right?” you asked while taking off your small shoes and handing them to the confused kids. “I have a lot more at home, you can take them!” you smiled, “Just be nicer, you hurt my head, you know.” You murmured, rubbing it to emphasize your point.

The boys didn’t say a word and instead took a run for it, not even thanking you. You sighed and patted the dust off your skirt, thinking about the big scolding that was coming when your mother noticed your lack of shoes.

“That was very honorable of you, you know,” said a voice from behind you. You quickly looked up, and when you noticed who it was you bowed clumsily. “Prince Jaemin!”

Jaemin giggled and patted your shoulder, “no need to bow! Jeno’s friends are my friends.”

You raised your brows, surprised at the new information. “I didn’t know Jeno hanged out with royalty, wow.” you murmured, making the prince giggle again. “He practices fencing with my little brother, but since we are the same age we ended up being friends!” he told you, patting your shoulder again as if you were friends, smiling kindly at you. You then understood why he was so loved, he irradiated warmth and kindness.

“I’ll have to talk with Jeno, then, seeing as he doesn’t tell me these things,” you thought out loud, murmuring the last part as to not appear rude.

Jaemin smiled at you again, about to say something else when you heard a boy’s voice getting near.

“Jaemin! Jaemin! Jeno told me that...” he stopped in his tracks, looking at you. You looked at him, too, curious. “Who’s this?”

“Ah, this is Jeno’s friend! She’s your age, I think.” he turned to look at you, “This is my little brother, Jisung! The one who practices with Jeno.”

You almost choked in your spit, bowing again. “Prince Jisung!” Jaemin laughed again, finding your mannerisms endearing. Jisung flushed and bowed too, flustered because he found you pretty. “N-no need to bow! Jeno’s friends are my friends, too!” he told you, waving his hands to make you stop bowing. His words made you laugh, recognizing them as the same thing Jaemin had told you just minutes ago.

“I-” the sudden, familiar call of your name cut your words and you cursed under your breath, ready to run again when a hand snatched your arm, making you turn to look at your very angry-looking mother. “Y/n! I swear, you’re going to be the death of me!” she scolded, not even realizing the Princes were with you and dragged you away, her raised voice talking about how reckless you are and how worried she was.

You shot a sad smile to the confused boys, waving your hand before turning the corner of the street and disappearing, hoping you’ll see them again.

ii

You watched your best friend, Jeno, practice fencing with Jisung. It has been two years since your encounter with the Princes, and a lot had happened since then.

After getting scolded to no end for running off and giving away your shoes, you had gone out to meet Jeno and ask him about his royal friendships.

“So,” you began, looking at him inquisitively. He avoided your gaze, playing with the hem of his sleeves. “you’re friends with Prince Jaemin AND Prince Jisung and I discover that information NOW, and not even from yourself but the Princes themselves?!” you exclaim, pouting unconsciously with a frown. Jeno laughed at your little outburst and finally looked at you with guilty eyes. “In my defense, I’ll say I thought you had figured that out since I practice with Jisung, but I guess you are a little slow.” He teased, laughing when you hit his shoulder. “Not funny! That’s so cool, Jeno!”

You smiled at the thought, shaking your head. From then on, he had brought you with him at his fencing practices; so you had naturally gotten closer with Jisung, too. It had been hard at first because of the awkwardness and the fact that you found yourself incapable of dropping formalities until a few months after, but you were inseparable now, always running through the city together on some new adventure. You giggled, remembering that one time he saw a mouse for the first time.

“Aaagh! What in the world is that!” screamed Jisung behind you, making you turn to the funniest sight: Jisung, on top of a random supply box, shaking as if he had seen a dragon… because of a tiny mouse that was running around. You immediately had fallen into a fit of laughter, almost falling on your butt. “You’re-” you started, unable to form a complete sentence from all the laughter, doubling over with tears in your eyes. “You’re scared of a mouse?”

Needless to say, Jisung didn’t hear the end of it for weeks, being made fun of by not only you but Jeno too when you had told him the day after. What you didn’t tell him, though, is that you found it endearing how he had never seen a little mouse before, making him appear even more adorable in your mind. You teased him frequently, telling him he looked like one, but he always became grumpy at that, a rosy tint spreading his cheeks.

The clashing sound of metal with metal woke you up from your little haze, looking at the scene before you. Jisung held his sword towards Jeno’s chest, who was raising his hand in surrender, now unarmed with his swords a few feet away. “I win!” exclaimed the younger boy, jumping with glee. Jeno pointed to his sword, “hey! Careful with that!”

“Oh yeah, sorry.” Jisung apologized, putting it away before resuming his little jumps. And skipping towards you. “Y/n! Did you see? I won! I won Jeno for the first time!” he exclaimed with excitement, taking your hands and twirling with you. You blushed at the contact, congratulating him shyly. Jeno looked from afar, watching the interaction with a knowing smile.

iii

Three years had passed now, time passing in the blink of an eye. Your 15th birthday had passed recently, and you were now practicing fencing with Jeno.

You had taken an interest not long after Jisung’s first victory, mostly because you wanted to spend more time with him, so you had asked Jeno to help you train to surprise Jisung one day. You had gotten the chance to spar with him in last year’s annual tournament, and after a long, difficult match, you had ended up winning, much to your surprise. You still don’t know how you did it, to be honest. Jeno told you that your dance training might be the reason, but you doubted it. You finally got to impress Jisung, though.

The problem is that you had gotten so nervous that you had run off before you could take off your mask, making you the mysterious fencer to everyone and eventually gaining that as your name.

Everyone had forgotten you in a matter of weeks; everyone but Jisung. He had fallen in love with the way you moved, telling everyone how magical you looked and how special you must be. You blushed every time he talked about you like that, and Jeno had to suppress a laugh. He almost spilled your secret one day, but luckily Jisung was too busy talking about your fencing persona to notice.

A sudden bump in your chest made you wake up from your memory-reliving moment and you looked at the sword pointed at you, blinking.

Jeno smirked, looking at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Thinking about a certain prince again?” he teased, lowering his sword. You huffed, looking away with warmth quickly spreading through your cheeks, “shut up, Jeno.”

The sudden rustling of leaves indicating someone was coming made you both jolt, Jeno signaling you to hide just in case it was Jisung. You quickly did so, throwing yourself behind the nearest tree, heart thumping in your throat.

“Jeno!” greeted the last voice you wanted to hear at that moment. You cursed under your breath.

“Jisung, what are you doing here? We don’t have practice today” answered your friend, alert eyes making sure you were well hidden.

“I wanted to talk to you, Jeno… it’s- it’s about the tournament.”

“What’s up?”

“Do you think they will show up? I didn’t get to know who was behind the mask last year and now that the tournament is nearing, I can’t get them out of my mind. What if they don’t show up? I have so much to ask them...” he sighed, looking at the ground. He truly looked deflated, sad with the thought of never seeing that mysterious fencer again. Jeno frowned at the sight and patted the younger boy’s back, a gesture of reassurance. “Hey, don’t think like that, Sung. I’m sure you’ll get to see them again, the person is a fencer, after all. Why would they miss a match?”

Jisung, a little more convinced now, straightened his back and nodded, pensively. “I want to win them, Jeno! We have to train harder, please!”

Jeno smiled, looking fondly at him. His passion for fencing was admirable, and Jeno was proud of him.

You grinned in your hiding spot, your heart beating a little faster.

iv

You were packing your fencing suit neatly, humming a little tune you had heard someone sing on the street while you were visiting Taeil’s bakery. The weather was starting to get hot, indicating the nearing arrival of the summer season, and with it, the annual fencing tournament. Your chest was bubbling with excitement and anticipation, but also nervousness. You planned to win Jisung again and thus telling him your identity. You were a bit scared, goosebumps appearing in your arms whenever you imagined the outcome. In your heart, you truly wished for him to take it well, but your mind was clouded with what-ifs; what if he’s angry because you kept it from him, what if he doesn’t accept your passion, what if he’s so disappointed he doesn’t want to talk with you ever again.

Your fantasy got interrupted by the calls of your mom.

“Honey, did you hear me? Are you okay?” she rushed to you, cupping your cheeks and looking at you intently, searching for fever symptoms. You gently took her hands from your face and smiled, murmuring an apology. “I was just thinking, mom. What did you say?”

She sighed, relieved, but still looking at you. “The dance competition, honey. The date got announced! It’s at the start of the summer season. And you are the main act! Isn’t that fantastic? You’ve practiced so much!” She continued rambling about it, but you stopped listening.

The start of the summer season? But that’s the same day as the tournament…

-

The night breeze was chilly, making you wrap your shawl around you. After your mother broke the news, you had stayed in the little lake near the palace, thinking. You eventually cried, too.

This was the first time you had to choose.

All your life had revolved around dancing. Ever since you can remember, you had been training resiliently. Your main goal had always been being the main act, that being your motivation every time you fell or couldn’t get a routine right. You breathed dancing, the freedom it provided ran through your veins. It was your entire being.

But fencing… fencing had opened doors for you, had made you experience a feeling you had never felt before. The rush of fighting, the beauty of moving the sword with elegance and strength, all of it had slowly captivated your heart. And there was also the emotions that had urged you to enter the fencing world. The emotions of a boy you deeply cared about.

You felt troubled inside. It felt as if your entire being had split into two and had started fighting in your interior, with you in the center of the tornado of turns and metal clashing.

“It’s cold for a summer night, isn’t it?” a voice startled you.

A certain boy sat next to you, his knees brushing yours. “Jisung… What are you doing here?” you asked, avoiding his face. He had appeared just when you were, precisely, thinking about him, making you blush.

“This is my palace, so I think I should be the one asking that.” He teased, cheekily. You smiled, softly elbowing him.

“You know I always come here when I… have too many thoughts. I’m just conflicted.” you sighed, looking ahead at nothing in particular.

“What’s troubling you?” he asked, softly. The way he furrowed his brows and softly put your hair behind your ear told you he was worried.

“It’s, um… I have a friend who… uh…” you stumbled with your words, trying to cover up your problem. “She… she has to decide between two things that are very important to her, and she’s confused about it because she wants to make the right choice, but I feel like whatever I choose, won’t be correct.” You told him sincerely. “She! I mean she, not me.” you quickly corrected yourself.

Jisung looked at you with knowing eyes but didn’t comment on it. He softly took your hand in his and locked his eyes with yours, ignoring the heat crawling up his neck.

“You know, I feel you. I mean, your friend. Not long ago, I had a talk with my father. I felt confused and lost because I had to choose between fencing and my prince's duties. I obviously chose fencing because not only it’s something I’ve always done, it’s also what my heart told me to do. I had to listen to my heart. And for a while, it felt wrong – especially watching Jaemin being the perfect prince because he had chosen prince duties over anything else. But that’s it, y/n; there’s no wrong or right choice. You just choose what’s right to you, and that’s the only thing that matters.”

He let go of your hand to wipe the tears that were escaping your eyes without your permission. You quickly circled his neck with your arms, burying your face into his embrace, sobbing. You didn’t say anything, but both of you knew your fight had ceased with the realization that came thanks to Jisung’s words.

v

“Are you out of your mind!? How dare you disobey your mother like that!? What have I done to you to disappoint me like that!? You are a disgrace to this family!”

You were sitting in your living room, with your mother yelling at you and your father looking at you with disappointed eyes. You still had your fencing suit on, after running away from the tournament before taking off your mask – again.

You had chosen fencing.

You had ditched the dance performance and attended the tournament. You successfully won Jisung again, but as soon as you saw your mother you had run away, leaving as the mysterious fencer yet again.

You felt content with your decision because that’s what felt right for you – but your mother’s words were making you feel a shame you’ve never experienced before.

“This is the last straw! You won’t be fencing anymore!”

You perked up at that and quickly rose your head to look at your mother, alarmed. “What!?”

“You are a dancer, y/n, not a fencer! A dancer, you hear me!? I’ve let you run off and practice fencing with your friends but it seems you have forgotten your real focus. You’ve humiliated the family’s name with your absence today, and I won’t let that happen again. And if I see you with your fencer friends again, I’ll make sure that’s the last time you go out with them.” She threatened, voice quivering with anger. “I hope you learn from your mistakes, y/n.”

vi

After the probably worst moment of your life, you had distanced yourself from Jeno and Jisung. You feared that your mom would make you stop seeing them completely f she saw you with them again, so you had limited your meetings by a lot, now barely seeing them once a month.

It pained you. It’s as if a blanket of spines had wrapped itself around your heart, squeezing it tightly, making it bleed with longing for your friends. You missed Jeno, the way his happiness shone through his eyes every time he smiled and how he patiently trained with you. You missed talking with him on the way from the bakery, always stealing a bite of his bun. You missed his rare but comforting hugs whenever you told him about a hard day of practice. You missed your best friend, and his absence left you with the cold sensation of loneliness spreading through your body.

But your heart desperately missed Jisung. You missed his laugh, the way his eyes crinkle whenever he smiles, the mole under his lips, his soft touch which contrasts the rough skin of his hands, his soft pout whenever he concentrates, his soft smile whenever you talk about dancing, his passion whenever he practiced his fencing routine. You missed your long talks by the lake, holding hands whenever you strolled through the city, his curious eyes whenever you showed him something new, his hugs, his warmth, the comfort of his presence. You deeply wished you could stop this nonsense and run back to him, but the thought of never seeing him again kept you from breaking the distance.

vii

A couple of years had passed. Not much had changed – you still missed your friends, and you had missed every tournament ever since your mom scolded you. Tonight, you were attending the special ceremony. It was the last tournament the prince – Jisung – was going to attend, the reasons being unknown though rumors said he was heartbroken after the disappearance of the mysterious fencer he oh so deeply admired. These rumors made you sad, guilty making you assist the ceremony with no clear objective in mind. If you were being honest with yourself, you just missed Jisung and took this as an opportunity to talk to him again, as your mother approved of you going to the ball.

You had flowy, soft fabric dancing around you, moving gracefully with each step you took. Stunning and gorgeous, you entered the palace, your heart beating so hard you felt as if it would take off and fly out of your chest at any moment.

A lot of eyes were on you, interested as you had become a popular dancer in the last years. You avoided them, though, only looking for a certain pair of brown ones.

A hand in your shoulder startled you, and before you realized, the eyes you had been looking for were just in front of you, accompanied by your favorite smile. “Jisung,” you breathed, quickly hugging him, “I missed you. Oh, gods, I’ve missed you so much.” You whispered. As his arms circled your waist, you felt the blanket of spines slowly lift off your heart.

He smiled gently, kissing your temple. “Me too, I thought you got tired of me. Glad to see you missed me as much as I’ve missed you.”

“I would never get tired of you.”

“Your distance says otherwise.”

“Jisung, I already told you, it’s-”

“Yeah, it’s complicated. I get it. It doesn’t stop me from wishing you were with me every day and not once in a year.”

You sighed, looking down. You couldn’t tell him the reason for your distance like you had told Jeno since Jisung still didn’t know about your fencing past, and you knew it was bothering him even though you had tried to convince him it wasn’t his fault.

“Dance with me.”

Time flew with Jisung, as always. You had danced in silence, as you seemed to communicate everything you needed to with your eyes. You were lost in his when he suddenly spoke.

“I’m giving up fencing.”

You almost tripped. “Why?”

“I don’t know. It brings me sadness.”

“What? You love fencing!”

“But… I loved it because you were there. You always watched me practice, and your support encouraged me to continue forward.”

“You know I support you.”

“It’s not the same, you’re away now.”

You sighed, “Jisung-”

“No, don’t start again. It’s my decision. Fencing is meaningless without you two.”

You paused. “Two?”

He looked away, bashful. “It’s stupid, but… do you remember that mysterious fencer? They haven’t been showing up. I always looked forward to our next match, but now that they have stopped coming, I’ve lost the motivation to come, too. It feels as if they have given up… and thinking about me makes me sad.” He looked at you again, frowning. “I used to love fencing because it made me stop thinking, it was liberating. But now, every frustration that’s bothering me involves fencing. I think I should stay away from it, for a while.”

You furrowed your brows at that, lightly shaking his shoulders. “Are you out of your mind? Are you seriously thinking of abandoning fencing? Jisung, it’s your passion!”

He shrugged, looking down. Just before he was able to answer, a loud voice interrupted the moment.

“Ladies and gentlemen! The annual fencing tournament is about to start! Kindly head to the gardens, where the competition will take place!”

Jisung looked at you with pleading eyes. “I have to go. Please, cheer for me.”

viii

You only wanted to attend the ball and go. You really, really just planned on doing that. But after talking with Jisung, and seeing the look in his eyes, you felt the weight of guilt slowly driving you towards the preparation room to change to a suit.

It felt strange after years of not touching any fencing equipment, and you had become very, very rusty. After the first fights, your arm was already tired, and you felt unbelievably hot under the suit.

For some reason, you had managed to fight your way to the final round. If it was luck or just bad contestants you didn’t really know, but you were much sloppier now and with Jisung in front of you, your hands hard started to shake. It had been so long…

Jisung, at first, didn’t believe it. Your movements were definitely a big tell that you were his so admired mysterious fencer, but he had noted your technique had become a bit brute. Now that he had you in front of him, he felt as if he lived again, moving vigorously and fighting with all his might.

With your lack of training and his sudden power, the fight ended in the blink of an eye, with audible gasps from the public.

Sword was pointing at chest, only this time, Jisung was the one holding the sword, and you the one at the end of it.

A loud horn marked the end of the tournament, with the same loud voice announcing Jisung as the winner. The public burst in cheers, chanting the prince’s name in pride and glory, and the boy took off his mask with a proud grin.

“Don’t you dare run away again.” He said before you could make a dash for the exit. He quickly grabbed your arms, keeping you in place. “This has been eating me for years, and I thought I’d never fight with you again. Who are you?” He whispered, looking at the mask intently.

You sighed, knowing you were trapped. Your palms were sweating like crazy, your heart going a thousand miles per minute, making it difficult to breathe. The moment you had fantasized about for many years had come, and you were experiencing too many emotions in the spare of a second. Scared, nervous, relieved.

You quickly took it off, meeting your favorite eyes who were looking back at you in shock. The crowd gasped, and you were met with deafening silence, only interrupted by occasional low whispers.

“It’s you.”

“It’s me.”

He smiled.

“You know, I always had thought, deep inside me, that it could be you. You always held the sword correctly even though you pretended to lose...” He giggled. You smiled, relieved because he was accepting of it all. You pushed his shoulder softly, “Don’t act all-knowing now, you never knew.”

“Maybe.” he cupped your face gently, looking you with courageous eyes and red cheeks. “But it makes sense now. I felt drawn to the mysterious fencer… because it was you. It’s always been you.” he started, his voice lowering to a murmur now, “the one who has never left my mind...” he paused, his gaze lowering to your lips. “...nor my heart.”

You gulped, confused and flustered. What does that mean? What is he doing? Is he confessing? Why is he looking at my lips like that? We are in front of the whole city, he won’t-

A soft sensation stopped your frenetic thinking, making you close your eyes and hold Jisung’s hands on your face. He was gentle, yet passionate; as if trying to tell you all his hidden feelings. His touch was warm, almost hot, and your mind was him. Nothing else mattered at the moment.

You broke the kiss after what felt like an eternity and a second at the same time, smiling at him.

“So,” you whispered, not wanting to break the magical atmosphere around you both. “Are you still leaving fencing?”

He smiled at you, eyes shining with glee. “No,” he pecked your lips, “I’ve found my reason to stay.”

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #park jisung imagines #park jisung scenarios #jisung imagines #jisung scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct prince au #jisung prince au #park jisung #nct #nct dream #nct blurbs #jisung blurbs #park jisung fluff #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop angst #jeno imagines #jeno #fencer jisung au #nct x reader #jisung x reader #park jisung x reader

[londone-fog]

The Light Will Guide You Home- It Star Wars AU

AO3 Link

I. II. III.

Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

Darkness is on the rise. Darth Assem the Wise has begun gradually over taking the galaxy with his Neibolt Regime. As his power grows, so does the power of his apprentice, the fearsome Darth Fide. With the demolition of the Jedi, the public is quickly losing hope.

Meanwhile, General Marsh and the Rebel Alliance struggle to keep the Regime on a short leash. With the rumor of a hidden Neibolt base on the abandoned Sith planet Korriban, they have made quick plans to follow up on the intel.

All they can do now is hope the force is with them...

IV.

Eddie Kaspbrak really hated sand. He really did. He hated how it stuck to every surface and how it grit under his shoes when he walked. It caked under his fingernails and blew into his hair. It was a deep orangish- red that stained things when wet.

But, oh, was it beautiful when the fading sunlight hit it. The grit in the air turned the sky to beautiful coral pinks and deep purples. He could see them in all their glory from his perch on his favorite cliff ledge, watching as the sun’s light slowly gave way to the light of Korriban’s seven moons.

The ledge was the only place that Eddie could really think. It was just far enough from the small hovelish hut he called home. He lived alone with his mother, and it was far from an easy feat. She was a nervous woman, always nattering on about Eddie falling off a cliff or getting lost to the long stretches of desert. She was blissfully unaware of his little hiding place; she would have a heart attack if she knew he was sitting so close, legs dangling a good thousand feet in the air.

But Eddie got bored. There were only so many times a day that he could tend to the small, tasteless garden they had tilled, or sweep every speck of red dirt that clung to their floor. Eddie was allowed to travel to the small trading outpost on a few rare occasions, taking his old speeder to trade for things they couldn’t grow or make themselves. Those days were his favorite. He loved looking at all the strange peoples that congregated there. Seeing a small huddle of stormtroopers wasn’t uncommon either. He would listen to them all. It was years after he was allowed to go that he began learning phrases in all of the strange languages that he heard spoken. Enough to understand just a little. He held this secret knowledge close to his heart, only to be whispered when he was alone in the dark.

Another one of Eddie’s most treasured secrets is what exactly he traded at the outpost. While yes, he did trade with some of the wry vegetation his mother grew, he also frequently made stops along the way. There were several large sights of ship crashes, including an old dreadnaught. He was acutely aware that Korriban was once controlled by the Sith, and was the sight of their temple and such. He would dig around and snag anything he thought to be vaguely valuable, earning just enough rations and supplies to keep them afloat. His mother was none the wiser.

But Eddie’s biggest hidden thing, was the voice. The voice that filled his head when he was away from his mother and could concentrate on anything other than the buzzing that surrounded him. He would sit on his cliff and look out, hearing the flicker of a voice licking across his mind. It was only something akin to static at the beginning, but now Eddie could form actual words. If it wasn’t so clear and obvious, Eddie would have thought himself crazy. He was entirely unsure whether the voice could hear him back or not.

That’s where he was, standing and listening closely, straining his ears. The voice was so clear; he could even hear the sounds surrounding the other end, almost like an echo. He reached out, head quickly filling with noise, eyes clamped shut in concentration.

Then silence, like he’d been sucked into a vacuum. All he could hear was gentle breathing, a mixture of his own and that of someone else.

“Hello?” Eddie quietly whispered, warm air ghosting his lips.

“Hello?” Nearly an echo, but it was not Eddie’s voice coming back to him. This was someone else.

“Who are you?” the voice asked, a tiny bit desperate. Eddie didn’t even think before he responded in turn.

“I’m nobody.”

“I think you’re wrong. You have to be more than just ‘nobody.’”

“Well, what about you? Who are you.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Nobody.”

“You can’t say that. Not if I’m not allowed to be nobody. Where are you, where do you come from?”

“I come from somewhere dark,” the voice said, the last syllable of his statement ringing in Eddie’s ears. He could almost see it, almost feel it. Somewhere with corridors, somewhere with stark blacks and reds. Somewhere that was, indeed, dark. “Where do you come from?”

“Somewhere light,” Eddie said in turn. He slowly opened his eyes for the first time, feeling the warmth of the sinking sun, feeling the sand beneath his palms. Solitude, peace, the zeal of freedom. The ever present pull. He let it flood him, and he listened as the voice felt it himself.

But then the vacuum was gone, and the voice with it.

The strangest thing, Eddie thought, was how it didn’t even feel like he was really saying anything. Something had done it for him, and he had just been along for the ride. Something that wanted him to connect.

He felt that Something very often. He felt it as he listened in on the conversations between the outpost patrons. He felt it when he stood far above the deserted expanse below him. He felt it all around, but he never understood what it meant. It sometimes scared him, the things he felt through it. But he never felt lonely.

When he lay in bed that night, he tried and tried to tune back into that vacuum, that voice and all of the cold that came with it. It scared Eddie. It scared him enough to seek it out.

He woke the next morning to his mother telling him exactly what he needed to hear; it was a day he was allowed to go to the outpost.

He jumped in his speeder and zoomed off quick as he could.

He would have never guessed what he’d see.

Eddie was listening, trying and trying to tune back to the dark. That’s when he saw it. The dark plume of smoke rising over the horizon caused him to steer away from his original location faster than anything.  As the source of the smoke grew closer, it became obvious that it was the sight of a terrible crash. What was once a cruiser of some sort lay in ruin, smoke billowing out in a terrifying cloud.

Eddie leapt from his speeder, sure footed steps keeping him from slipping on the sand. As he drew nearer, he noticed three figures lying in the hot sun.

“Hey! Hey, what happened?”

The small shuffling of limbs was all the signal he needed to grab his canteen and approach the group. He tapped the shoulder of the nearest man, sand turning his kinked locks rusty.

“Who are you? What happened?”

The man groaned, slowly lifting his head. He squinted against the sun, dirt caked to his pale cheek. Little cuts littered the edges of his face, weakly leaking blood. Eddie kneeled down, carefully wiping sand from his face and offering his canteen. The man took it greedily, gulping a large sip of the liquid within.

“My name is Stan Uris,” he croaks, slowly moving to sit more upright.

“Eddie Kaspbrak.” They shake hands.

Eddie makes his way to the other two men, one large and blond, the other with dark skin and a stormtrooper uniform. They introduced themselves as Ben and Mike, respectively.

“Where do you guys come from?”

“We’re from the Resistance. We came here on a mission, but now we’re stranded,” Ben said, trying to shake the sand out of his orange flight suit. Eddie raised an eyebrow, vaguely gesturing to Mike.

“What about him? What’s with the stormtrooper get up?” Mike looked up, pausing his efforts to remove the white armour plates from his body.

“I decided to join the Resistance after my first battle. I’m not really cut out for killing people, I don’t think. I helped these guys escape from the Regime base, but we didn’t get very far…”

“Yeah, I can see that. You guys really look like you could use some help.”

“That obvious?” Stan scoffed, a strained smirk painted across his face. Eddie raised his eyebrow, then looked down to pick sand out from under his nail. He had an idea, but he wasn’t sure how it would work. He wasn’t sure how his mother would react, and that’s what scared him the most. But he had to do something.

“Look, there’s a trading outpost not far from here. We could find you a ride back to where ever you guys come from, and you can stay with me until then.”

The group all glanced around, silence palpable.

“We can’t just impose on you. We don’t have any way to pay you or anything,” Ben finally said, shakily standing. He almost didn’t make it upright.

“Look, now isn’t the time to be modest. You guys are fucked if I don’t help you. And I’d rather not leave you guys to dehydrate in the desert. So, I’m not really asking, I’m telling.”

Mike raised an eyebrow, and Stan just shrugged.

And that's how all four of them ended up piled into Eddie’s speeder, following the horizon to the outpost.

Once they arrived, however, the entire atmosphere changed. Nearly every strange being present turned their head to sneak a peek at the rag tag group. Stan and Ben had the sleeves of their flight suits tied around their waists, the obvious Rebel orange catching quite the amount of attention. Mike had at least thought to strip himself of the trademark white stormtrooper armour, instead wearing nothing but the black underclothes that the plates had been attached to. And Eddie, now a familiar face among the regulars, tugged self consciously at his tan, raggedy outfit.

Eddie quickly scuttled over to the rations counter, catching the attention of the man behind the counter.

“Look, these guys need some help, and fast. Are there any ships leaving in the next few days that have room for a few more passengers?” he asked, allowing a little desperation to trickle into his voice. The clerk scratched his chin, humming in thought.

“I think Pit is leaving in the morning. I might be able to call in a favor for you.”

“Thank you, you’re really helping me out here.”

But the clerk just leaned closer, speaking only loud enough for Eddie to hear.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing with those people, but it looks like a world of trouble. People aren’t really happy with those orange ones.” He gestures to Stan and Ben. “Watch yourself Kaspbrak.”

Eddie swallowed, but nodded as condescending as he possibly could.

Informing his mother of their unexpected guests, though, was something he couldn’t just will away.

“EDWARD KASPBRAK, WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?!” she shrieked, thick arms flailing as she ran to their small group. Eddie sighed, preparing himself for the anger storm that was fast approaching.

Sonia Kaspbrak was not one to easily let up control. Eddie knew that first hand; he had lived with her his whole life. She loved to keep both of their lives and schedules in a gridlock, immovable and permanent.  

“They crashed their ship. I found them a ride from the outpost tomorrow morning. They’ll just be here for a night.”

Sonia flattened her mouth into a stern line, but didn’t protest. Her expression made it obvious, however, that her and Eddie were going to have a chat later. It made his insides clench.

“Just watch yourself. We aren’t involved in your little war, so don’t expect more support than this.” And with that, she stormed off to go fuss over something. Eddie followed her, trying to think of anything to say to diffuse the situation.

“Mama, they would have died if I didn’t pick them up. Nobody deserves to die in that desert, okay? I couldn’t just leave them.”

“You brought the war to us, Edward! Those people will think they can just stop by here anytime they like now.”

Eddie sighed, his mother’s paranoia washing over him and making him cringe.

“This is purely isolated. I was just doing a good thing. They leave in the morning.”

She still seemed unhappy, but didn’t push the issue. Eddie waited a moment for a response, but when none came, he grabbed a handful of blankets and made his way back to his room to set up makeshift cots.

He listened carefully as the three strangers chattered amongst themselves, whispering about what they were going to do.

“So, what exactly was the Resistance doing on a planet like Korriban? There’s nothing here but strange looking cliffs and sand,” Eddie said, fluffing out a scratchy tan blanket. Stan and Ben looked at each other, a strange look passing between them.

“Well, we were part of a fleet. We were sent to follow up on a rumor of a base on this planet,” Stan said, barely a mutter and with little eye contact.

“Well, I’m guessing the rumor was true?”

His question was met with three sets of withering looks.

“Understatement. What we found was the largest Neibolt Regime base in the galaxy, and an army of stormtroopers. We were the only ones not killed in the attack, and we were taken prisoner by Darth Fide,” Stan continued, voice strained. Hearing the name of the Sith spoken aloud made the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand on end, although he couldn’t place why.

“We were tortured for information for five days. That was, until Mike broke us out and helped us escape.” Ben lifted his shirt to accentuate the point, exposing the still healing wound on his stomach. Eddie felt air rush from between his teeth, cringing with sympathy pain.

“Bev must be worried sick. I doubt she knows we’re still alive. We don’t even know where the ship is, or what happened after we were captured. And Bill... “ Stan paused to swallow. “Our commander is gone. We have no leadership, no one to follow.”

Mike moved to place a large hand on Stan’s shoulder in an effort to comfort.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I do know there is at least one of you that survived. Other than you guys obviously,” he said, voice gentle and smooth. Both pilots turned at breakneck speed, confusion written in plain view.

“What do you mean?”

“I told you I didn’t kill anyone. I had my gun aimed at someone, but I decided to shoot next to him and make it look like I killed him, but I didn’t. I think he just played dead the whole time.”

Eddie watched this discussion with open eyes, enamored by the story he was being told. He was vaguely aware of the fact that there was a war. Honestly, when was there ever not a war? But listening to these strangers had made it all the more real. More personal. Eddie knew his father had been heavily involved at the beginning, and that’s why his mother moved them out to this desolate wasteland. Because his father had died, and Sonia refused to have her son fall to the same fate.

But Eddie couldn’t just ignore it anymore. It was real now, and if what he’d heard about the Regime base was true, very close.

He thought about that later that night, lying awake in the dark. His guests gentle breathing filled the room, but it was nothing compared to the deafening roar he felt in his head. He was filled with so many conflicted ideas and feelings, it was like he was an entirely different person.

That was why he was so surprised when the vacuum finally returned, leaving everything scarily quiet. He took a deep inhale of breath.

“Hello.” he whispered.

“Hello. Seems like we can’t leave each other alone, can we?” the voice asked, a little less informal than before.

“It would appear so. I guess I’m just surprised.”

“Surprised? Because you can hear someone else in your head?”

Eddie chuckled a little bit; it echoed around, making the void a little lighter.

“No, not really. I can usually only hear you if my head is clear. Everything is just really foggy right now. I suppose I’m unsure.”

“Unsure?”

“I feel a calling, but I don’t know what exactly that will entail. I guess I’m just scared.”

“Scared of change?” The voice appeared intrigued.

“Scared of anything other than nothing. That’s what my life has become. Nothing but an empty stretch.”

The voice was silent for a moment, but Eddie knew it was just thinking.

“What do I call you? I know your name isn’t just Nobody.”

“I know yours isn’t either,” Eddie said, but then he paused. “You can call me Eddie.”

His name echoed, and it was like something large had shifted.

“Eddie. Eddie… I like it. I might even call you Eds. How’s that sound?”

“Absolutely horrible. Please don’t ever call me that.”

“Sounds good, Eds. I guess in that case, you can call me Richie.”

Eddie ignored the awful nickname to relish the new information he’d gleaned.

“Huh, Richie’s an odd name for some disembodied voice inside my head.”

“So’s Eddie.”

He laughed a little at that.

But, just as quickly as he’d come, Richie was gone. Instead, Eddie’s name was being called by someone else. He jumped up from his bed, but the chanting was not deterred. It sounded like it was coming from below him.

Basement, he thought, stepping around the people littered on the floor. He tiptoed as quickly as he could, going into their storage room as fast as his feet could carry him.

He’d only ever been in the basement a few times in his life, his mother only permitting him down there to put dried foods in storage. But once he was down there, it wasn’t the vegetables that caught his attention. It was a large chest, hiding in the corner behind several boxes. Eddie shoved them away as steadfastly as his anxiety-corded body would allow.

By the time he wretched open the chest, he wasn’t even in control anymore.

Sitting atop random knick knacks and strange tan clothing, was a tarnished silver handle of sorts.

Tentatively, Eddie reached out and grabbed it.

The reaction was immediate. The feeling was something akin to being violently shot back in time. Visions passed around him in a wild storm of history and knowledge.

He saw a wild lightsaber fight, twelve figures in Jedi robes descending on one dark figure, but they were all quickly vanquished. He saw another man valiantly stand up to the same dark figure, his dark eyes shining with something that both scared and inspired Eddie. Their battle was epic, bright red and yellow blades flailing. But the dark was too strong, and the man was struck down. Eddie screamed, trying in vain to stop it all. But it was too much, every iota of light being crushed.

Then everything changed. He saw a pair of children, one with a mess of black hair and the other a sandy color. They were both crying, flames and violence surrounding them.

“I’m sorry, Stanny. I have to go now.”

The flames faded to rain, and Eddie watched as a darkly clothed man writhed and cried out, an imposing figure standing over him. Laughing. It was a terrible thing that rang out and all around.

The laughing morphed grossly into crying, and suddenly Eddie was watching himself as a child. He was standing next to his mother in front of a simple looking grave.

Where was his father?

Where was he?

wherewashewherewashewherewashewhere-

He was thrown back against the ground, back to the present in his basement. The strange tube was still clenched in his hand.

“Eddie?”

He quickly jumped up, turning on his heel. There in the doorway, shrouded in darkness, was his mother. Her eyes were wide in shock.

“Where did you find that?”

Eddie paused.

“It… called to me. It was calling me and I followed it. I saw… I saw everything.”

“No, I won’t have you ending up like your father. Put it back and go back to bed.”

“No.”

Sonia was shocked.

“No?”

“Mama, this is important. I can feel it.”

“No Edward. The Jedi killed your father, I won’t have you die from them too.”

Eddie swallowed.

“What do you mean?”

“Your father was a Jedi. He died in the first battle that started this war. That’s his lightsaber.” She sounded almost ashamed. Eddie looked down at the object in his hand. The metal had become warm in his hand, and he carefully inspected every groove and scar on its surface. His finger hovered over the button he knew would activate the blade.

When he pressed it, he was faced with a bright pole of amber-yellow light, illuminating the dark room and casting shadows across the walls. It felt easier than anything to hold it.

“You know I can’t stay with you forever,” Eddie said, sheathing the blade in the handle again.

“... yes, I know. But I had to protect you. I had you keep you away from all that violence. It’s not right, what’s happening in the galaxy right now.”

Eddie nodded, understanding.

The next morning, he helped Ben, Stan, and Mike load bags of rations and spare clothes into his speeder, his own bags joining in.

“Are you sure you want to come with us?” Stan asked, placing a supportive hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s time for me to do something.”

Stan smiled, then gestured to where Eddie’s mom was standing.

“May the force be with you!” she called out, waving as the group piled into the vehicle.

Eddie nodded, waved at his mother, and raced off across the sand.

#my writing #reddie #stenbrough #benverly #It (2017) #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #stan uris #bill denbrough #Ben Hascom #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #the light will guide you home #star wars

[lufancy]

Charming II

Sehun, prince!AU

Chapters: (1) / (2) / (3) / (4) / (5) / (6) … masterlist

Summary: Looks can be deceiving. Oh Sehun is far from being a prince charming.

Belonging is a strong and inevitable feeling that exists in human nature. Coming to an unfamiliar environment I had high hopes to find that belongingness. To wed a prince for the purpose of my country.

Yet all of my hopes were scattered all in the first fifteen minutes of my arrival at the court of my fiancé.

He has already decided to be hostile without even knowing me. Without ever interacting with me. So while having tea with the entire Oh family and me and my mother, I wonder… what must I have done to have made him disapprove of me?

His family is so kind to me. Why is there enmity between Sehun and me?

It's just that I need him as the next queen of my country. Otherwise, I’d already have flipped the bird.

Yes. Even as a princess. I would totally do that.

He is glaring at me. His parents seem to notice the awkwardness but try not to acknowledge. Luhan, Sehun’s brother, seems apologetic, and my mom and I don’t know how to react to all of this.

I give side glances to my mom. Is this really the man she wants me to marry?

“Sehun? Why don’t you give our lovely guest a tour of our humble abode?” His mother puts a hand on his knee and shoots a demanding smile.

Sehun turns to his mom. “Seriously? This place isn’t that hard. Why can’t she-” but he gets cut off by his father.

“Sehun!” The King scolds him. “Now.”

The young prince sighs gets up and walks out of the room. Without asking me to follow him. I look around and meet everyone's eyes, encouraging me to go after him.

I’m facing his back the entire time.

I look around and take in everything. The beautiful tall windows, crystal chandeliers and the hand painted ceiling take my breath away. This is very different from our home. Ours is more rustic, with a lot more use of stone and expensive wood.

I miss home.

I want to go home.

Without a husband.

While I’m busy with my own thoughts I fail to notice my hostile fiancé coming to a halt and I almost bump into his tall figure. We are standing in the foyer with behind me a beautiful staircase.

He turns around and I am met with his stoic expression. He points to the floor and says, “Foyer.” Then points to the ceiling, “Rooms.” He points to the left and right. “East wing, west wing.”

Then ends by pointing behind him. “Front door.” He leans into me and I’m flustered by the sudden distance. He puts his lips close to my ears and whispers. “Try to make use of that one often, okay?”

Just like that he walks away.

I don’t follow him.

Why would I? He is basically telling me to leave. My positive attitude I tried to keep up crumbles and I close my eyes. My head is hurting. I need an Advil.

Am I supposed to be with a person like this for the rest of my life?

Is this how it’s going to be now?

Hated and rejected by my so-called husband-to-be?

“Oh! Your Highness! What are you doing here all by yourself?” A young girl in maid uniform comes up to me, I think around my age. She has a beautiful face and I suspect she is around my age. “Are you lost?” She asks me.

“Actually, yeah… a little.” I smile awkwardly.

She laughs sweetly. “You’re lucky you ran into me! This place is huge but I have known it all my life. Where do you wish to go? I will help you.”

My heart gushes. There are nice people here too! 

I tell her I’d like to go to the common room and she leads me the way. “What’s your name?” I ask her. She is nice and I’d like to have someone as bubbly and positive as her, considering I’ll be spending a lot of time here now.

“My name is Haneul, your majesty.”

While on our way to the common room Haneul explains she got lost all the time as a kid. She even jokes how the King gets lost sometimes, even now, because he travels a lot. However, he always manages to find the kitchen to steal a snack.

I catch myself laughing. By the time I’m back in the common room I feel my mood is a lot better compared to when I left. I thank Haneul and she grins, then bows.

However, the looks I’m given bring back my sour mood. Everyone is wondering why I’m back with a maid, instead of my fiancé. The Queen frowns, the King shakes his head and Prince Luhan decides to stand up. “I’ll show you around, princess.”

I nod and thank him.

Luhan is so different from his brother. Unlike Sehun, he gives off a refreshing and kind vibe. Being around him feels pleasant.

“Our home was built by my great great great great grandfather.” He laughs, also a little confused by how many times he said ‘great’. “This castle used to be a little hunting lodge. My…” he looks hesitant to repeat it again, “let’s just call him grandfather, loved this location. So he decided to expand it into his finest castle - of course, it’s a little more modern now.”

I feel so much more familiar with this place now. Luhan takes his time to explain things to me and allows me to familiarize myself with this castle - unlike the arrogant prince.

“We’ve got a large flower garden outside. Sport and race cars in the garage, a music & media room upstairs.. a pool! And err.. a gym.” I laugh at how hard he is trying his best.

“Wow. This sounds more like a luxury hotel. It has everything. Are you actually trying to sell me a room?” I joke.

I was a little scared my tasteless joke might insult him but he throws his head back in laughter. “If you sign now, I’ll give you 10% off!” He adds then continues laughing.

I’m enjoying myself with him. God, why is Sehun nothing like his brother?

After quite a passionate tour around the castle, we sit down outside for a cold iced tea. I wave to Haneul when I see her walking towards us with our drinks. “You Highnesses, please enjoy. I have prepared some snacks for you as well.” She smiles and I smile back.

“You make me happier every time we meet, Haneul. I love snacks.” I tell her and she bursts into a fit of giggles.

Luhan shifts in his chair uncomfortably, but I don’t think much of it.

Haneul leaves quietly after bowing and I return to the conversation while sipping my drink. “So, besides all the fancy stuff. Are there any cool old things? Stuff that remained from when this was first built?”

Luhan leans back. He chuckles in surprise. “You like ‘cool old’ things?” He asks. I nod. “You’re very interesting, you know that?”

I get where the confusion comes from. When you meet a girl with a red purse, classic Louboutins, and a low back blue dress, you would rather expect her to shop till she drops and go to the spa every other day. The thing is, if I don’t dress like a snobby person, my mother will kill me. As a princess, I’m not allowed to sit in my sweats the whole day.

Luhan taps on his chin in thought. I see his eyes light up and he leans forward. “We have… secret passages.”

This piques my interest. “Secret passages?”

“Yeah. They were made when the castle was built but no one really uses them anymore. I think they flooded them. You know, to prevent unwanted intruders.”

My interest is gone. “So, that means all of them are gone now?”

He seems deep in thought. “Not… all of them…”

Minutes later I stand next to Luhan in front of a plain wall of the hall upstairs. I stare at him blankly. Waiting for something to happen. He lightheartedly scolds me that I’m impatient and I blush in shame.

He laughs at my expression, then points to the wall. It is a nice wall but when I give it a push it doesn’t budge. “That’s so cute.” Luhan laughs and gives me a pat on the head. “Watch.” He pushes a chair away and reveals something that looks like a white lever. He pulls it and then I hear the sound of a door opening.

Luhan watches me as I stand with my mouth wide open. No way…

I would have never expected something like this…

I look inside and it is completely black. No light. Luhan pulls his phone from out of his pocket and turns the flashlight on. I see that this path doesn’t go far. It seems like there is just another door on the other end.

Luhan extends his hand and I politely refuse. That seems a little intimate for two strangers. He almost snorts at my shyness. “I won’t do anything. Its just that it is very dark and slippery in here. I don’t want a princess to fall on her butt in such a pretty dress. Although that would make an amusing sight.” I blush and slap him playfully, then take his hand.

He guides me to the other side and opens the other door. “Welcome to our castle’s hidden treasure.

There I am met with one beautiful sight and my heart melts. It’s a library. My breath feels taken away.

A beautiful two-story library. I see a hole in the ceiling and find there are many more books upstairs.

Despite it having two levels, it isn’t big nor all too clean, probably because it’s so hidden, but the titles and authors on the shelves make my heart jump. I find authors such as the Charlotte Brontë, Tolstoy and oh… my favorite; Jane Austen. I open the books and my eyes go wild as I find some are first editions. They’re worth thousands…

“This is amazing…” I whisper to myself. I nearly forget that there is a prince watching me. I want to cry. This place is like a paradise.

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Luhan is leaning the bookshelf next to the entrance. “Happy you like it. At least someone will make good use of it now.”

“Can’t believe you guys don’t come here…” I say in disbelief. “This is like heaven to me.”

Luhan ticks on his chin. Something he seems to do often. “Actually…” he trails, “Sehun comes here to read most often of all of us.”

I nearly drop a book that is worth 20k. Did my ears just deceive me? Sehun? The arrogant and mean prince who looks more like a popular frat boy who gets laid often. He comes here? Before I can even process my thoughts I blurt out something stupid.

“Sehun can read?!”

I want to mentally slap myself.

Because no matter how bad he treats me, and they know he is being disrespectful. Luhan and Sehun are still family, and I just asked Luhan if his younger brother is illiterate.

Bless Luhan for being so cool, because when he fails to hold back his laugh, I know we’re still okay. “Yes.” He coughs to clear up his laughter. “I have come to the understanding that he can read - or all those expensive private classes were a waste of time.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult…” I still feel kind of sorry. Yet another part of me tells me I shouldn’t feel sorry for someone who humiliated me in public.

Luhan shakes his head and gives me a smile. “I get it, okay? He is being a pain in the ass to your right now. I should probably explain that he doesn’t like being a prince. He wants to choose his own life yet our parents have expectation and demands.” I understand what he is talking about. It is the same with me and my mom. She is very controlling. “He is a good guy. He is just misunderstood. Give him time to open up to you, I swear he will be different.”

I want to believe him but I don’t see anything I can admire about him.

However, this is my first day here and he was being nasty from the start. He nearly ran me over with a freaking golf cart, they proceeded to humiliate me in front of everyone by hanging two girls on his arms.

“Just give him a chance.”

Luhan’s words sound pleading…

Something about his voice… the way he talks and how his deep brown eyes look at me.

I feel like he might actually convince me.

A/N: This didn’t have that much Sehun, but this story needs a little build up! Please tell me your thoughts and what you think might happen in the story! I’m curious!

Hope everyone enjoyed it!

#sehun scenarios #exo scenarios #exo fanfic #fic #sehun #angst #fluff #romance #smut #exo scenario #sehun fanfic #sehun fic #exo fic #exo fanfiction #exo #exok #luhan #prince!au #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic

[wyrm-wolf]

Of Flowers & Death Drabble II

I am a big nerd for this au and so is @le-wendigogo so here have some more *throws fluff at you*

~~

Such beauty, and such grace. Among those walking apes, he is but a burst of blooming flowers in the desert. A wild thing among domestication, dancing and flaunting along with the people of the town. They do not realize what lovely creature is dancing with them; hips swaying, arms flowing along with the movement of the crowd. Neon lights flashing a multitude of colors, music thrumming and buzzing in the air, people dancing and laughing. The smell of smoke and alcohol fills the air, keeping it stale and soggy, while the people standing around them sweat of lust and greed.

And yet, the only thing Hannibal can do is watch his flower dance.

Watching as his beau swirls around the crowd, head lost in the music, eyes closed as he just moves with the rhythm. Hannibal sits, drinking his beer as his flower danced among the heathens. He smiled as Adam eyes locked onto his own, blue like the clear lakes that once were alive in those ancient times, grinning as he twirled away from the group he was dancing with. Moving, sauntering, stalking over to where Hannibal was seated, avoiding any hands seeking to touch, to caress the embodiment of beauty.

Adam stands before him, cheeks flushed rosy red, swaying on his feet, back and forth, to and fro, smiling widely as he takes his lover’s hand. Holding his hand, Hannibal delicately brings Adam’s hand up to his lips, placing a smooth kiss onto his hand. Lips parting open, as Adam breathes through his mouth, eyes closing, head tilting at the feeling of soft lips on his skin. Caressing and igniting those wildfires that burn inside of him, making him take the great leap, just a few steps closer to death.

A few steps closer to love

And in a flash, Adam found himself enveloped in those strong arms, arms that have carried the dead, and fought men and monsters for centuries. A nose pressed against his curls, soft whisper of breath before Hannibal pulled back to smile at him.

“You’re drunk.” he stated, getting a small huff from Adam, and a roll of the eyes.

“So, this is a club after all.” Adam pokes back, twirling around in Hannibal’s arms, continuing to sway and move with the beat. Dancing in his own little circle, in own little space if peace and clarity.

Hannibal does nothing to stop the beau from dance, swaying hips and mischievous eyes, almost sinful as it is majestic. He takes the beau’s hand, slowly leading them to the back door, keeping an eye on Adam as his head swirls with the music, twirling under the street lamp’s dim light while they walk to Hannibal’s bike. Strapping Adam’s helmet on he watches as Adam’s fingers come up to caress the floral design on the side of the helmet, it was a gift from Hannibal, something to ‘keep his pretty head safe, in case of an accident’. Adam loves it, he loved him, and just smiled as he sat down in front of the motorcycle.

Stranding off to the side, Hannibal took a smoke out, lighting one up before their ride home, to their seclusive little home. A place where Adam wasn’t bound to wearing stiffly clothing-no matter how much he loved his soft flowery sweater, they were nothing compared to being free of clothing-he would walk around their little kingdom, checking on the garden he started, smiling as he sung to the flowers. Hannibal had never understood what he meant by singing to them, but if it made his beau happy, he was content to watch and listen as Adam sung in the ancient tongue of their people.

“The stars are pretty tonight.” Adam hummed, his head tilted back to watch at those twinkling lights.

Hannibal hummed, tossing the cigarette to the ground, stepping on the little thing before moving over to his bike. A hand caressing down Adam’s long pale neck, before his lips came down, flooding down his neck with kiss. Listening to that feather soft gasp, as Adam’s hands jump up to cup Hannibal’s cheeks. Making a small noise, before pulling him up for a kiss, both of them sighing in content. Soft lips over rough ones, sliding together into one wet kiss before they have to pull away for a breath. Hannibal moves behind Adam, sitting down on the seat as he starts up the bike, and like that their rolling down the street. Wind in their hair, and love in their hearts.

When they get home, the first thing Adam does is flop down on the bed, toeing his shoes off as he turns his head to nuzzle against the soft fabrics. While Hannibal takes the time to remove his boots, and jacket, before stepping into the room. Breath catching at the sight of his lovely little nymph, nothing can compare to his beau, his sweater hitching up to reveal the pale blushing skin of his chest. Cheeks flushed from the alcohol, as he hums a few notes to himself.

“As always, you are a sight to behold.” He comments, hanging up his jacket, as Adam rolls over to his side.

Adam scoffs, grinning to himself as Hannibal removes his shirt. “Flattery doesn’t get you anywhere in these ages, Hannibal.”

“Oh? I must say, it can get me very far.” he grins, sharp teeth like a shark, as he crawls onto the bed, leaning over Adam who only looks innocently up at him. Leaning down to pepper kisses over Adam’s cheek, before whispering, “It got me you, didn’t it?”

Adam giggles, playfully he tries to push Hannibal away, only for the man to grin, and lay down beside him. Leaning forward to brush their noses together, causing Adam to duck his head a giggle some more. That laugh, oh how it hits the heart, like the soft sound of wind chimes dancing along in the wind. Hannibal reaches up to run his fingers through those lovely curls, reminiscing those time where Adam’s curls were filled with blossoms. Only to be pulled from his thoughts by nimble fingers tracing over his cheekbones, pulling him in close for another kiss.

“I suppose so.” Adam grins cheekily, laugh at the little frown Hannibal gives him, before pecking his lips with another kiss.

Hannibal smiles, hands dipping down to run up under Adam’s sweater, smoothing back down his sides with a little pressure ao he can get a few chuckles from Adam. Living together for years has made him know every inch of Adam’s body rather well. Adam nuzzles up under Hannibal’s chin, soft warm breath ghosting over cold skin, as he closes his eyes, already starting to get lazy from the alcohol.

“I think it’s time for you to take a name, flower.” Hannibal mumbles, lips brushing over Adam’s forehead, as he breathes in that lovely earthy scent if his. “I’ll water the flowers for you.”

Adam nods his head, “Will you song to them for me?”

He freezes, halfway off and on the bed, as he was going to go water the plants. Head turning back to look down at his lovely beau, his sleepy little nymph, cheeks flushed and eyes closed. Head laying on his outstretched arm, as he starts to slip into a slumber from the alcohol he drank. Hannibal reaches down to push a few strands of hair behind his ear, placing a kiss over his forehead as he whispers to him.

“Anything for you, my flower.”

And with that, he lets the nymph lay quietly, moving over to the window that has the flowers. He doesn’t sing at first, studying each growing seed before finally he starts a low note. He sings a song of old tongue and dead words, a song that hasn’t been sung for ages and eons. One he knows by heart, as it is his own song. Of mourning and loss, funerals and grief, the song of Death itself is not the mournful note people have come to hear it as. But a cheerful whisper in the winds, that follows in those dark winter nights.

#hannibal #hannitowers #greek au #my writing #adam towers #hannibal lecter #hannibal au #basic instinct 2