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hesbuckcompton-baby · 2 months

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I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 8

AO3

Summary: After an encounter at Coombe House leaves Frankie and Rosie's relationship fragile, they seek to repair it when she is given leave for Christmas

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 6.5k (BUCKLE UP FOLKS)

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

The sun disappeared as soon as it had come, and as the weeks rolled steadily into December the men at Thorpe Abbotts learned the truth of the great English winter. At sunrise, the grass lay encrusted with frost, but by midday the ice was washed away by downpours, leaving the fields a muddy marshland. Every day was dreary, cold, and damp, and Rosie was beginning to feel mocked by it, the outside world mirroring the misery he felt within.

Frankie was avoiding him. She wouldn't admit to it, but she hadn't spoken to him alone in weeks. Sure, she would sit with the Riveters in the pub or come to see them before a mission, but since their trip to Coombe House, he couldn't get her alone. Whenever he thought the chance had arisen, some pressing matter would suddenly arise that she had to attend to, and she was gone as soon as she'd arrived.

He missed her. He missed her so badly that it hurt - he missed her face being the first he saw after every mission, missed being able to tell her everything, missed making her laugh. Rosie didn't care that she hadn't kissed him anymore. He just wanted her back.

"Tell me what happened again," George demanded, perched on the edge of her bed, watching Frankie as she brushed the stubborn knots out of her hair.

Frankie sighed. "I have told you a million times already."

"I know. I'm just still trying to fathom how you could be such a fucking idiot!" She cried, grabbing one of her pillows and throwing it across the room, colliding with Frankie with a soft thump.

"Oi!" Frankie exclaimed, lobbing it right back, a shriek escaping George as it smacked her in the face.

"He's so obviously in love with you - has been for months - I just don't get it. Coombe House was the perfect opportunity. Bit of a snog and a shag, yunno."

"Jesus Christ," She muttered, shaking her head. "You're the one who warned me against getting too attached. I'm just... starting to think you were right."

George's smile dropped, and she swore she felt her stomach lurch. "Oh, Frankie, no-"

"What? Am I seriously supposed to just go for it knowing what will happen if he doesn't come back?"

Frankie hadn't uttered a word of this to her, but it was clear it had been plaguing her for some time. "I'm not supposed to be a cautionary tale, I'm supposed to be your friend. Which means I want you to be happy - find it where you can, don't just avoid it because of what happened to me."

Her entire face furrowed with her frown. "I'm just... I'm in too deep already. And I'm scared, George."

"Oh, c'mere," George sighed, rising to stand as she gestured for Frankie to come closer. Enveloping her in an embrace, her nostrils inhaled the always-lingering scent of engine oil. "I don't regret Curt. I miss him like hell and sometimes it feels really really shit. But I wouldn't trade the time I had with him to make it hurt less - if anything it's more special to me now. Don't hold back because you're scared it'll hurt later, because if anything does go wrong you'll regret it more than anything."

Frankie frowned, chin burrowed into the crook of George's neck. "You think so?"

"I know it."

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The pub was packed as always, the sea of faces ever-changing with the constant stream of replacements. It didn't matter that it was just as busy as it had always been, the place felt half-empty with so many familiar faces missing. Rosie's Riveters were always guaranteed a table, their reputation as the 100th's finest flyers preceding them - boys would actually give up their chairs when Rosie came in, and he could never dissuade them, no matter how much he cringed at the attention.

Half-empty pint glasses littered the table, conversation and laughter flowing freely among the team, but Rosie couldn't help but let his gaze wander. She was usually here - usually posted at the same spot at the bar with George, hogging the space in front of the beer taps so they could always get the bartender's attention whenever they needed another round. But when he looked up now, their spot was taken by a pair of replacements who scarcely looked old enough to fly.

"Rosie agrees, dontcha?" Bailey's voice came, and it was as if he'd been forcefully dragged back to reality.

"Hm?"

"Brooklyn's better than Queens, ain't it?"

"Oh. Definitely," He nodded, attempting to be as subtle as he could as he continued to scan the room.

Suddenly, the piano in the corner started up, thumping out a raucous tune. He'd only seen it used once or twice the entire time he'd been at Thorpe Abbotts, but the nearing advent of Christmas seemed to be putting the Brits in much higher spirits. A crowd of RAF and WAAF staff had formed around the piano player, drinks in hand as they began to perform a sequence of rowdy old drinking songs, more yelling than they were singing.

The words were foreign to American ears, but the English seemed to know them all by heart, belting out sordid tales of prostitutes and the like in a jolly, musical fashion. The pilots seemed roused by the scene, and Bailey began to clap along to the beat in encouragement, grinning as he watched the crowd. There was a sense of joy in the air, enough even to make Rosie crack a smile, elbow resting on the back of his chair as he listened.

And then he saw her.

Frankie was leant against the lid of the piano, pint in hand, belting out the words with the rest of them, grinning as she sang. She was wearing her proper WAAF uniform, her hair curled tight beneath her chin, lips painted a deep red. He never saw her in dress uniform, and for a moment he was taken aback by how well it suited her. Before Rosie had formed any sort of plan for what he was doing, he had risen to his feet, and was crossing the room towards her, weaving his way through the crowd.

A hand seized his arm. George was certainly strong when she wanted to be, and she wanted to be now, dragging him sideways away from the group, gnawing at her bottom lip, her teeth coming away with lipstick stains.

"It's my fault," She stated firmly, speaking loudly to be heard over the music.

Rosie's brow furrowed in confusion. "George, what're you talking about?"

"It's my fault Frankie won't talk to you - I only just figured it out, I'm sorry."

His shoulders squared, a frown forming. "What do you mean it's your fault, what did you do?"

"I... I told her that I haven't been speaking to the pilots since Curtis Biddick died - you don't know him, but he was... kinda my boyfriend."

"Oh, George, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, it sucks. But I think she took it to heart, and now she's scared to get too close to you in case something happens."

"... She told you that?"

"Not explicitly, but I'm not an idiot. And I know her very well."

Rosie nodded hurriedly as he considered this, passing his weight from one foot to the other as he debated approaching Frankie. Sucking in a deep breath, he nodded determinedly. "George," He held her by the shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "Thank you."

"Don't ever do that again."

"I am sorry," He nodded, hands held up in surrender as he backed away, turning on his heel to make a beeline towards Frankie. George watched him go, brow raised at the sudden spring in his step.

"Weird bloke," She muttered.

They were halfway through a frankly awful rendition of Three Jolly Rogues when Frankie heard someone calling her name. Her gaze travelled across the crowd, words trailing off as she noticed Rosie at the edge of the group, unable to penetrate the mass of people as he craned to catch her eye. Eyes widening for a moment, she instantly felt her heart begin to beat faster as she chugged the remainder of her beer, abandoning her empty glass atop the piano as she tried to shove her way through to him.

"Frankie!" "Rosie!"

They spoke simultaneously, words to rambled and quick to make out, especially over the din of the pub. "Let's - let's go outside, yeah?" Frankie called over the music, and he nodded in agreement. His hand on her back came as a reflex, an instinct as they moved towards the door. She didn't step away.

Stepping out into the night air was like running head-first into a wall of ice, the sudden cold almost making Frankie gasp, her breath erupting in a visible cloud in front of her face. The sheer number of bodies inside the pub kept it permanently warm, so much so that it was easy to forget they were in the thick of December. Sucking in a breath, she rubbed at her arms to generate some warmth, her uniform jacket offering little in the way of insulation.

Rosie opened his mouth to speak, but she got there first. "I'm sorry. I've been treating you like shit and you don't deserve it, I was just being a fucking coward and-"

"Hey - no, no, no, you're ok. George told me what was going on and I get it. I get it, ok?"

Her expression was contorted in something like fear. "You do?"

"Of course," A smile flickered across his face. Of course he did. "I have no idea how hard it must be for you to wait for us all to come back, knowing what can happen up there. But... I don't wanna sound selfish Frankie but I can't stand the thought of dying without us being friends. You make coming back worth it and I- ... I miss you."

Frankie was silent for a long moment, and Rosie braced himself for whatever she was going to say.

"Come to my house for Christmas," She said. His mind had been racing trying to predict her response. He had not expected that.

"... What?"

"I got a forty-eight-hour pass for Christmas, I'm going over to my Dad's house. You can't spend it with your family, and we've got plenty of room... Well. You'd probably have to sleep on the floor but-"

She trailed off as she realised he was laughing, her brow furrowing as Rosie chuckled, nodding continuously. "Yeah," He beamed.

"Yeah?" The corner of her lips curled upwards in that wonky smile he so adored.

"Yeah, I'll come," Rosie grinned, taking a step forward and enveloping her in a hug, arms wrapped tight around her shoulders and she instinctively reached around to hug him back, her head resting against his chest.

"That would've been really awkward if you'd said no," Frankie said, her voice muffled against his jacket. Rosie laughed again, and she felt the vibrations through his chest.

"I was never gonna say no."

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They took a train on Christmas Eve, each carriage so packed with servicemen and women on leave and families visiting each other for the holiday that they were forced to stand, shuffling awkwardly out of the way whenever someone had to squeeze past. The pair had nothing to do except for a single pack of cards, although it soon became evident that the lack of space forced them to stand so close that they could always see each other's hand, and every game rapidly became pointless.

"So George isn't coming? Or Ken?" Rosie asked, fiddling with his watch as they plodded steadily onwards through the countryside, plumes of smoke from the coal engine partly obscuring the view of the trees and fields outside.

"George's family lives down in Dover - though you'd never guess it from her accent," Frankie chuckled. "She's got a pass too, so she's gone down this morning. Ken got invited for dinner by the parents of those lads he's always looking after - he'll be over there tomorrow."

He nodded along as she spoke. It had been almost an hour since anyone had tried to shuffle past them, so they'd taken to sitting on the floor, legs outstretched as far as they could go across the dirty old carpet. "Say, how'd you and George meet anyway? I never asked."

"We were both working at RAF Docking from about the middle of '41. There were a lot more WAAF there than at Abbotts, so we didn't bunk together, but we just sort of stuck, I s'pose. She only came here because of me - I got asked to come 'cause of your manpower shortage, but she reapplied so she could come too. Good thing too, I'd have been fucked without her. I think we got a bit co-dependent," She smiled to herself as she spoke, and he couldn't help but mirror it.

There was not a single sign or announcement to indicate where they were on their journey along the way. Frankie had told him it was a part of the government's anti-invasion measures, so that any would-be invaders would be unable to find their way, but really it just made him paranoid that they had missed their stop. Nevertheless, the moment they pulled into their station, she was up on her feet, a sudden air of excitement about her as she scrambled to gather their belongings. Rosie followed her out onto the platform, trying not to cough at the puffs of coal smoke that filled the station.

"Not far now," She assured him, a suitcase full of clothes in one hand, a satchel of presents in the other. It was a surprisingly sunny afternoon, although the biting cold would have suggested otherwise, and he trailed after her as they descended the high street, Rosie's head turning this way and that to take in his unfamiliar surroundings.

Frankie breezed through the place with practised familiarity, letting out a huff as she realised she'd almost lost him to the Shakespeare memorial as they passed. He had become entirely distracted by it, peering closely at the engravings that lined the base of the statue.

"Oi! Don't go all tourist on me, flyboy - I won't be late for dinner," She teased, and Rosie held up his hands in surrender, scurrying to catch up.

He could tell they were close when her shoulders drooped, excitement replaced by a comfortable calm. They reached a row of short, terraced houses, set back slightly from the main road, the thin strip of shared lawn still wet from the morning's blanket of frost. Frankie had begun grinning as she approached the house on the far end of the row, a spring of holly tied to the knocker with a messy knot of string. She shot him a smile, knocking firmly upon the wood, before spying an elderly woman a few doors down, struggling under the weight of her shopping bags as she fumbled with her door keys.

"Let me help with that, Mrs Higgins!" Frankie called, leaving Rosie alone on the doorstep as she hurried to help the old woman, gently prying the bags from her grip.

"My, Frances, haven't you grown!" Mrs Higgins declared, beaming up at her, made tiny by her stooped shoulders.

"Not since I was twelve, dear," She assured her, helping her in through the door as she carried the shopping behind her. Rosie smiled, watching on with his hands in his pockets, and he wondered how he could feel nostalgic in a place he'd never seen before.

Suddenly the door to Frankie's house swung open, and he found himself faced with a red-faced man, peering down at him with a frown. "Can I help you?"

"Dad, that's just Rosie! Let 'im in!" Frankie cried from down the street, hurriedly exiting Mrs Higgins' house as she scurried to catch up.

Mr Bevan was a huge man in every sense of the word - so tall and wide that he practically filled the entire doorway, and it almost seemed a miracle that he and his daughter were even related. But the moment he heard Frankie's voice, his face lit up with such love Rosie wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything like it, unleashing a hearty, belly laugh as she ran into his arms, practically throwing herself at the man.

"Rosie? Who's Rosie?" Another voice rang from inside - a girl's voice, high-pitched and certainly familiar. "I thought you were bringing the pilot!"

"Rosie is the pilot!" Frankie called down the hall, chuckling as she broke free of her father's embrace. She ushered Rosie inside, piling her bags at the bottom of the narrow staircase. As he entered, a girl was peering suspiciously at him from the kitchen doorway. She couldn't have been older than thirteen, a crop of golden hair flowing from her scalp, and at her hip cowered another child, a little girl of about three of four, hair so blonde it was almost white.

"But Rosie's a girl's name!" The older girl protested.

He chuckled. "Well, in fairness, my real name's Robert."

"Alice, be nice," Frankie scolded gently, lifting up the smaller child with one arm as Alice's cheeks bloomed a bright red. He realised she must have been Jill, recalling her name from the phone call all those weeks ago at Coombe House.

The Bevans' house was inescapably narrow, the five of them struggling to pass each other as bags were brought in and Frankie's father bustled through to the kitchen to put the kettle on. But as she sidled into the living room, she let out a gasp, a grin creasing her cheeks.

It was a sparsely furnished place, but in all honesty there probably wasn't room for anything else. A thin pine tree was propped up in the corner, strings of tinsel and chipped old baubles hanging from its branches, and newspaper chains hung from the curtain rails.

"Oh, isn't this just wonderful," Frankie remarked as Jill wrapped her chubby arms around her neck in a sideways hug. She turned her head, nodding at Rosie, prompting him to say something.

"Oh! Yeah. Very nice, it's just like back home," He nodded in agreement, slightly tense under the eyes of strangers, even if they were both little girls.

"Rosie, d'you want a cuppa?" Mr Bevan's voice boomed from the next room. For a moment he panicked, staring at Frankie with wide eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

"Tea. Do you want tea?" She whispered, putting Jill down on the sofa.

"Oh, uh - Yes! Thank you, Mr Bevan!"

"Oh, bloody hell, it's Allen, son," He shook his head, carrying in a teapot on a tray to place on the small table in the middle of the room.

"Even the boys at the garage call you Allen, eh Dad?" Frankie pointed out, pouring a cup of tea and straining the leaves before passing it to Rosie.

"Reason I hired 'em," He agreed, lowering himself into one of the armchairs with a heavy grunt. Rosie accepted the tea with a smile, and had just brought the cup to his lips when Allen leant down and unstrapped his foot, pulling it off and propping it against the wall. He almost choked. Alice let out a snort that sounded remarkably like Frankie's.

"Christ, sorry lad," He laughed, red face turning even redder. "Probably should've warned you about that."

Rosie forced out an awkward chuckle, nodding along. Jill was sat beside him on the sofa, staring up at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging slightly agape. He smiled down at her, noticing Frankie as she smirked at the whole scene.

Their dinner was a meagre feast of beans on toast, and Rosie suspected they were saving everything else for Christmas Day, saving it up to put on a true banquet. He and Frankie had been relegated to the living room to sleep, and she took the sofa whilst he lay on a pile of cushions and blankets on the floor. It wasn't a house built to serve any more than three - after all, it had only ever intended to house Frankie and her parents.

He was staring up at the picture frames that lined the wall as she came in - messy childhood drawings on aged paper, a laboured scrawl captioning each one with things like 'Me and Daddy' and 'My House'. Frankie had been putting the girls to bed, and padded across the carpet with a sigh, the sofa springs creaking as she collapsed backwards onto them.

"Did you draw those?" He asked, pointing up at the wall.

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. "God, they're so awful, I keep telling him to take them down."

"No! They're great! I think it's really nice."

Frankie stared down at him for a moment. He'd changed into his pyjamas already, lying straight across the living room floor, blanket tucked under his arms. She began to giggle, cheeks flushed from the cool draft that filled the room.

"What?" He asked.

"It's only nine. You look like you've had mummy come and tuck you in for bed," She teased, unable to look at him without collapsing into giggles again.

"I'm tired!" He protested, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Yeah, yeah. So am I, to be fair. And - fair warning - Jill will be in here at five in the morning tomorrow to open her presents. She's so excited, I don't think she'll sleep a wink."

Frankie lay back along the sofa, feet propped up against the armrest as she draped a blanket over herself before reaching out to turn off the lamp. "They're sweet kids," Rosie spoke into the darkness.

"Alice is cagey around new people - just tell her a good flying story tomorrow and she'll love you. I think Jill loves you already. She doesn't talk much, but she'll want you to play with her toys, so you'd better do it," She instructed him, and he let out a chuckle.

"Alright. I promise."

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Rosie was awoken by the thunderous sound of little footsteps barrelling down the stairs, a shriek escaping Jill as she streaked into the room, making a beeline for the sofa as she hurled herself on top of Frankie. She let out an agonised groan at the sudden weight, retaliating as she tickled under Jill's arms, eliciting a series of squeals from the girl.

He groaned, grabbing one of the cushions and pressing it tight over his head to dull the sudden noise. He heard Frankie laugh, and felt her warm breath against his ear as she bent down to whisper "Told you so."

It was a half hour before the rest of the family made an appearance, time which Frankie spent desperately trying to prevent Jill from tearing open her presents, insisting she had to wait for her sister.

"Just one? Please? Please!" She whined, feet dangling off the edge of one of the kitchen chairs. Rosie wandered in and the girl went suddenly quiet, nervously pursing her lips.

"Hey Jill, why don't you show Rosie your cars, yeah?" Frankie said, pausing mid-sentence to let out a yawn as she put the kettle on the boil. The child's brow furrowed, considering this, and when she looked up at him she spoke with the seriousness of a businessman conducting an important negotiation.

"Rosie, will you play cars with me?"

"Absolutely I will," He nodded, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Jill grinned, pushing herself down from the chair as she scurried back into the living room. Rosie shot Frankie a glance, brow arched in confusion. "How does she have so much energy?"

"She's a kid," She shrugged. "I think they're all like that."

The cars were rusted and chipped, paint peeling off to expose the tarnished metal beneath, and Rosie couldn't help but suspect they must have been Frankie's years ago. He could picture her as a girl, playing with tiny tin cars on the floor of a garage somewhere whilst her father worked away fixing the real thing. The idea made him smile.

Jill made little whooshing engine sounds as she wheeled the cars around on the rug, occasionally ramming one into the table leg as she mimicked a crash - there was a groove in the wood from years of games such as this. Rosie found he did not know how to play with a child as small and as quiet as Jill, but he lined the toy racing cars up in a nice, neat row for her, quickly discovering the girl much preferred to destroy that work than admire it.

"This one's yours," She declared, holding out a chubby hand to present him with a tiny metal biplane, half of its propeller long since broken off.

"Why thank you," He grinned, accepting it gladly. They had been playing for a long time before Rosie realised he too had begun to mimic the sound of engines, lips pressed together as he tried to replicate the hum of his B-17.

Allan and Alice appeared after a while, and once the girls had opened their Christmas presents it was all hands on deck to prepare for their midday feast. The children were placed in charge of the bread stuffing, a charge they appeared to take incredibly seriously, and Rosie was presented with a pile of carrots and potatoes to peel. He sat at the table, dutifully toiling away, the kitchen gradually growing hotter and hotter as the chicken they'd bought from one of the neighbours slowly roasted in the oven.

The creak of a chair beside him caught his attention, and Rosie looked up as Frankie sat down, sliding a glass of sherry towards him. "Frankie, it's ten in the morning," He pointed out.

"If you're not at least halfway drunk by lunchtime, you're not doing Christmas right," Frankie shrugged. He noticed her father had already finished a glass. Taking a sip of her drink, she reached across the table, seizing one of the unpeeled potatoes from his pile, using a knife to whittle away at the skin. "You're very slow at this," She pointed out.

"Sorry, I'm not a practised potato peeler, dear."

She chuckled. "Guess we'll just have to train you up... Merry Christmas, Rosie."

He tore his gaze from his work, nicking the skin of his finger slightly with the blade, although he couldn't make himself mind. "Merry Christmas."

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A myriad of wonderful smells had filled the kitchen by the time they sat down to eat, his chair perched on a corner of the small table between Frankie and Jill. The girls had created little paper crowns for the occasion, crafted out of scraps of wallpaper and decorated with old buttons. Rosie's sat far too small atop his head, but he fought to keep it balanced on his scalp, replacing it every time it fell off. It was a simple banquet, but after the work they had put into creating it, he could've sworn it was the best food he'd ever eaten.

"This much like your Christmases in the States, Rosie?" Allen asked.

Rosie nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yeah. Good food and good company, that's what it's for, ain't it?"

"I'd offer to let you call your family, but we don't have a phone," Frankie admitted, reaching across him to take Jill's plate so that she could cut up her chicken for her.

"It's no trouble, really. This is all wonderful," He nodded again, and Alice snorted as his paper crown slipped off of his head, tumbling to the floor.

Frankie shot the girl a look, brow arched in warning. He suddenly remembered what she had told him the night before. "Say, I haven't told you any of my flying stories yet, have I?" It was as if Alice were a dog, the way her ears pricked, intrigue suddenly lacing her expression.

"No. You haven't."

"Please do!" Jill added, and her older sister nodded in agreement.

Rosie began to recount some of his most interesting missions - the narrow misses, the daring manoeuvres - every detail embellished for dramatic effect to such an extent that he was at times bordering on fabrication, and he could tell from Frankie's smirk that she knew not everything he was saying was strictly true. She was smiling at her father across the table, the two of them enjoying the utterly transfixed expressions plastered across the children's faces, so enthralled that they almost forgot to eat.

Any scepticism Alice had shown before was long gone, staring wide-eyed across the table at him, her cheeks blooming red as if she'd come face to face with her lifelong hero. Either that or she was developing a crush. Frankie was beginning to suspect the latter. When dinner was finished, the girl approached her as she was filling the sink with water to wash up, leaning over to whisper in her ear.

"Frankie - Is Rosie your boyfriend?"

"What? ...No, honey, I don't think so."

Alice's brow furrowed, a look of absolute horror painting her face. "What do you mean you 'don't think so'?"

Frankie chuckled. "You'll get it when you're older."

She rolled her eyes, golden curls bouncing as she gathered the dirty dishes, stacking them in an orderly pile beside the sink. Bing Crosby came over the radio on the windowsill in front of her, the faint drawl of the King's Christmas speech coming from the main radio in the living room. Her dad had taken off his false leg again, revelling in every moment he didn't have to wear the thing, and Frankie was elbow-deep in soapy water by the time Rosie reappeared.

"Where'd you go?" She asked, looking up as he came in through the back door, paper crown still balanced atop his head.

"Getting rid of leftovers - the neighbour took the chicken scraps for her dogs."

"Ah," She nodded, suppressing a smile as he sidled next to her, seizing the dishcloth and beginning to dry the plates and cups she had finished scrubbing.

"... Yunno. Alice thinks you're my boyfriend."

Rosie nodded, laughing softly. "I think Jill thinks we're married."

"Oh she loooves you," Frankie teased, knocking against him with her hip. "She'll be wanting you to put her to bed later."

She wasn't wrong. The adults sat around the living room that night, the children long since sent to bed. Empty glasses covered the coffee table as they held their hands of cards close to their chests, finally able to have a proper game - albeit a slightly addled one. The room itself smelled of sherry, and their cheeks were all flushed pink, laughing as they played, the radio still turned on in the corner, although nothing came from it but static.

They were having such a good time that they didn't hear the little patter of footsteps trailing down the staircase - didn't look up until she was stood in the doorway, a ragged old teddy clutched in her hands. Jill's voice came out meek and exhausted. "I can't sleep."

"Well, I'm not surprised, my lamb," Frankie's dad spoke warmly. "You ate a whole month's sweet ration today."

She rubbed tiredly at her eyes, and Frankie pushed herself up off the sofa. "Alright, let's go, eh?"

"I want Rosie to do it," Jill insisted, sleepy brown eyes looking back at him. "Please?"

Frankie glanced over at him, shrugging as if to say 'I don't see why not'. "Sure thing," Rosie nodded, grunting slightly as he hopped up from his seat. Jill grinned, clutching at the cuff of his sleeve with a tiny hand as they headed up the stairs together.

Returning to her seat, Frankie grinned, watching them go until they were out of sight. It was quiet for a long moment, and she reached over to turn off the radio. Her father cleared his throat slightly. "You never mentioned - how long have you been with yer fella then?"

She had been halfway through a last sip of sherry, and choked suddenly on it, almost spitting it back out. "Who, Rosie? No, dad, we're just-"

"Oh, bloody hell, petal," He shook his head, and she wondered how he could make a term of endearment sound so frustrated. "I'm not blind as well as legless."

"You've still got one leg Dad-"

"Don't gimme that. That lad's in love with you, else he wouldn't have crossed the bloody country on Christmas Eve to come eat old carrots with you. And you! Christ alive, you look at him like you used to look at Danny-boy from down the street when you were goin' out with him. Except worse."

Frankie let out a long, agonised groan, slumping so far back against the sofa cushions it was as if she were hoping to melt into the furniture. "Dad!" She exclaimed. "... He's American."

He snorted. "Bloody hell, didn't think I raised you to be a snob."

"No! Not like that! I just... he lives in America. I can't leave you, Dad."

"Oh, piss off, yes you can. You think I'll grow this feckin' leg back overnight through the grace of your presence, love? If I let you waste your life sittin' around here, then I've failed as a Dad. I've failed your mum, n'all."

"Don't say that," She shook her head, tears forming and clouding her vision.

"No. I mean it. If that lad is gonna make you happy you go with him, dammit. Gettin' to raise you has been the best thing that ever happened to me, but you're your own woman now, Frank. And I've got a couple more little-un's to deal with. Can't have you hanging around, there's not bloody room anymore."

Frankie laughed, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Her dad made to stand, groaning as he put weight on his false leg, and she jumped to her feet to help him, but he raised a hand to her, and she had no choice but to back away.

"I love you, petal," He beamed down at her, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. "And now I'm going to bed. Too much bloody sherry." She squeezed his hand, stepping out of the way so he could hobble past, grunting slightly as he hauled himself up the stairs.

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By the time Rosie returned, Frankie was lying on the floor atop the pile of cushions and blankets he had used as a bed the night before, staring at the pictures on the wall.

"You're in my bed," He pointed out.

"I got the sofa last night - your turn."

"No - no. It's your house, you take the couch."

"Look, Rosie, we are going back tomorrow and I'll not return you to the boys with a bad back. Make me look like a bad host n'all."

He let out a sigh. "Fine," It was dark in the living room, and she couldn't wholly tell what he was doing until she felt the blanket lift up, and he burrowed beneath it beside her.

"... What are you doing."

"Compromise," Rosie shrugged, their shoulders pressed together. "... Who's Danny?"

"Oh my God!" Frankie exclaimed, covering her face with her hands, voice strained in embarrassment. "How much of that did you hear?!"

"Just a little. I was waiting for Jill to brush her teeth. So?"

She sighed, arms dropping to her sides in defeat. "He was my boyfriend for a bit when I was seventeen. It wasn't a big deal, but Dad loved him so he brings it up all the time."

He chuckled, nodding. "You were right, by the way. I do like your dad."

"Told you."

Neither of them said anything for a long time, the room plunged into silence save for the sound of them breathing. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could make out his features, her head lolling to the side as she stared at him.

"Actually, I lied," He confessed. Her brow furrowed in confusion, watching as Rosie rolled onto his side to face her. "I heard everything."

Frankie did the same, the pair facing each other properly. "You sneaky shit," She teased, and he let out a huff of laughter.

She heard him take a deep breath before he spoke again. "Was he right?"

"About what?"

In the dim light, she could see his brow furrow. "You know what."

Rosie's hand moved to cup Frankie's cheek, but before he could make a move she had closed the gap, and he felt the warmth of her lips press against his, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose. The blankets rustled as she pressed herself against him, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck as he lifted his head up off the pillow, moving to hover over her, their lips never parting.

After a moment, she pulled away, and they both took a second to catch their breath. "Jill's probably gonna get up again in a minute. She's a nightmare to put to bed, I swear."

"Understood," Rosie nodded firmly like a man on a mission, peppering kisses from her cheek down to the crook of her neck as she squirmed, trying not to laugh as she planted a palm flat on his forehead, prying him away.

He sighed, and a bubble of laughter escaped her throat. "I'm serious! We will scar that child for life."

"Alright," Rosie huffed, lying back down beside her. He raised his hand to her face once more, her skin sticky with sweat as he pushed her hair out of the way, getting a proper look at her as best he could in the dark.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?"

Frankie hummed. "No. Don't think so."

"You are beautiful," He mused, winding a strand of her hair around his finger. "Even in the dark - even when you smell terrible and I say I don't care. Which I don't, by the way."

She snorted with laughter, briefly pressing her lips to his once more. "Well, I also don't mind when you smell like shit."

"Aw, that's sweet."

A small voice came from the doorway, and for a second both of their hearts stopped, hurling themselves away from each other as they tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. "I still can't sleep," Jill protested, frown audible in her voice. Rosie felt the urge to laugh at the accuracy of Frankie's prediction, and she clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.

"That's ok sweetie, I'm coming," She called. The blankets rustled as she moved to stand, pressing her forehead against his just long enough to whisper.

"I told you so."

#masters of the air #masters of the air oc #masters of the air fic #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #mota oc #mota fic #oc: frankie #frankie x rosie #oc: george #fic | i'm your man #i need to take a NAP after writing this one

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

Note

Working at a fast food place in a blizzard and all I want is some big yandere monster who has a tracker on my phone to notice and get worried for me and come immjdetaly to steal me from my work and tie me up saying he'll make sure I never have to work again cause he'll handle me

Sfw or nsfw

I liked this idea a lot, idk where the idea for a blizzard came from, but I like how you think ^_^'

Word Count: 2.5k

Monster (Rahl) x gn reader

W: sfw monster fluff, kidnapping, tying up

Rahl examined the tracking app he’d installed on his phone and let out a low growl. The little icon, a picture of you he’d stolen from your Instagram account placed you at the Popeye’s where you worked. Tracking you had become sort of an obsession of his, ever since he showed up there to order a family meal of fried chicken one afternoon.

You’d smiled at him when you asked for his order. That was the first thing that got his two hearts thumping. No one ever smiled at him. At eight feet tall and a mouth full of large, sharp teeth most people ran from him. He’d had the police called on him more times than he could count just for existing in public.

People were used to the pretty Fairyfolk, the fairies, the sirens, even the orcs were better received than him. He was large and thick, covered in white feathers, tipped in dark blue, and with massive sharp claws that generally put people off. The only thing remotely human about him was his deep blue face, that was partly hidden by a stray clump of feathers he could never get to sit right. He looked like a horror from a nightmare and maybe he was.

“Have a wonderful day and stay warm,” you’d chirped at him with a wink when you handed him his bag of food. The words falling from your plush lips were like heaven. Your small smile was like the sun rising. He wanted more. He needed more. His life was so lonely, but you were sweet and beautiful. You could be the companion he desperately craved.

That’s why he’d started following you. In that one small interaction you’d given him so much warmth and he was hooked. He’d placed a tracker on your car and watched you go about your daily business with rapt attention. He loved learning even the most mundane things about you. He knew your favorite coffee order, your favorite color, as well as a million other little details he’d gleaned from stalking you. He hated that you worked with the public. Your smile should be his alone. It would be his alone.

Glancing outside he found snow falling in a white sheet and growled. There was a blizzard coming and your boss had insisted that the day crew show up to work, despite there being no customers. No one was buying chicken in the middle of a blizzard.

The cold didn’t bother Rahl with his thick, downy undercoat, so it was no chore to make his way through the blinding white, using his phone’s GPS to guide him to you. When he reached the store, he suddenly felt nervous. He hadn’t come up with a plan. He stood outside of the small building for a moment collecting himself and trying to decide what to do.

Inside it was warm and dry. Since the manager hadn’t bothered to come in himself, of course, you and your coworkers were making it as comfortable as possible. You’d cranked up the heat and someone put the “CLOSED” sign up, just in case. You were all lounging in the booths playing with your phones, waiting for the shift to end, though none of you were sure how you were going to get home in the mess building outside.

“Maybe we should just go,” your coworker Amber said, “I mean, no one is going to notice if we aren’t here. If we stay too much longer we’re going to be trapped here.”

The rest of the crew nodded in agreement. $8.00 per hour wasn’t going to pay for a tow truck to get your cars back home and if you all left at once, your manager couldn’t fire all of you. He’d have no staff left. It was either leave while it was still possible or be trapped, probably overnight.

Outside, Rahl, hidden in white snow, was considering his strategy. He just needed an opportunity to get you alone. While he thought, he carefully tied the thick paracord he’d brought along with him into slipknots.

“You guys go, I’ll close up,” you said. As the most senior staff member and the only one with keys, you took it on your shoulders to carry burdens like this, even though you didn’t get paid any more for it.

Your coworkers gave you relieved smiles and hurried to grab their things and hustle home. Alone in the restaurant, you sighed while you shut off the fryer and the ovens, hoping you’d make it out before it became impossible to drive. The sound of the door opening and closing startled you, but you assumed it was one of your coworkers who’d forgotten something, so you went back to shutting the lights off without thinking.

Only, as your ears strained to hear the sound of the door opening and closing again as they left, you heard something different. Dull, heavy footsteps echoed through the empty building. THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.

A chill passed through you, but you assured yourself it was just the heavy steps of one of the guys stomping snow off of their non-slip shoes.

“Hey, Mick…that you? I’m about to lock the doors!”

Silence. You creeped past the food window into the dark dining room. The sun was completely blocked out by the snow, so it was pitch black.

“Mick?” you asked the darkness, your voice just a whimper.

You tried to shake the cold terror that was creeping up your spine away. Mick must have left and you just didn’t hear the door close. You squinted your eyes, trying to make out anything in the darkness, but you only saw shadowy shapes.

“You’re just freaking out over nothing,” you whispered to yourself.

You scrambled to lock the front door and then turned to head to the back and get your things, so you could go out of the back.

A moment later you let out a terrified screech as thick, clawed hands clamped down on your arms like a vice.

“Help! HELP!” you screamed, hoping one of your coworkers was nearby enough to hear you.

Whatever had you pulled you into its warm feathery chest and wasn’t letting go, no matter how you thrashed and howled for mercy.

“Sh. Sh. Sh. Don’t worry little mate,” a scratchy voice reminding you of dry stalks of wheat rubbing together told you, “I won’t hurt you.”

“LEMME GO!” you yelled even louder.

“Afraid I can't do that, little one,” he almost hissed, “I’ve chosen you.”

“Ch-chosen…me…?” you murmured, confused, your heart beating so fast you could hardly catch your breath to speak, “ch-chosen me for what?”

“You’re my lovely little mate,” he purred.

You’d heard that word before from other Fairyfolk you knew, but it never had much meaning to you…until now.

“I’m…I’m…not…” you gasped for air, hyperventilating from fear, “I’m n-not your m-mate!”

Suddenly you were being held aloft, tucked in the crook of the creature's arm, while the other wrapped tight bands around your wrists and pulled them taught. Then he did your ankles next, not tight enough to hurt you, but you were caught. If you’d been calm enough to notice, you’d have realized his feathers were very soft and he smelled like vanilla.

Happy that you were secured and weren’t going to swat at him, he pet you in the darkness, long claws just barely scraping through your hair.

“Calm down, little one, before you hurt yourself,” he pouted, “just breathe…In…out…in…out”

With nowhere else to go, pinned firmly in his grasp, you could only follow directions, forcing your breathing to match his words.

“That’s it,” he cooed with a smile hovering on his voice, “It’s all going to be okay now. I’ll take care of you…”

“T-take c-care of me? What’s that s-supposed to mean?” you mumbled, your breath slowly picking up. Your mind drummed up a hundred horrible scenarios.

He chuckled.

“I’m going to keep you safe and warm in my den,” he said as he made his way to the exit with large, heavy steps.

Once you were outside, you could see slightly better and you took in his face.

“I remember you…” you said, suddenly recognizing him, “you came into the store before…”

“I’m happy you remembered me,” he preened.

Around you snow fell in a thick white sheet, but the monster was like a living furnace. You were quite warm and cozy in his arms.

“Well you’re pretty memorable…What’s your name?” you asked, which made him even happier.

“Rahl,” he said cheerfully, navigating confidently through the rising wind.

As the blizzard started in earnest, you had to tuck your face into his chest to keep your nose from freezing. He cupped your head and body with his arm, protecting you from the driving snow. You had no idea where he was taking you, the snow falling too thick to make out any landmarks so you just squeezed your eyes shut and tried to force yourself to wake up from this dream.

This can’t be real. This can’t be real. You kept repeating the words to yourself, wishing they were true, but no matter how many times you said it, you could feel his downy feathers against your skin and hear his…two hearts(?)...In his chest. Finally after what felt like the longest walk of your life, the wind stopped blowing on you and everything was quiet.

“Wake up little mate,” he said in a sing-song voice, “we’re home!”

You lifted your eyes to look around the monster's den, only it wasn’t at all what you expected. No piles of bones on the floor or bits of skin curing on stretchers. It was actually…very nice. Everything was quite a bit bigger than what you were used to, but he had all the things a normal human would have…a television, a comfortable looking couch…even pictures hanging on the walls…of you.

“Have you been following me?” you squeaked rhetorically. It was obvious he had. The pictures of you were all candid shots taken from far away and images printed from your social media accounts.

Rahl answered anyway while he loosened the paracord bindings from your hands and ankles, tossing them on the coffee table. .

“I had to be sure you were safe,” he said, nestling you on the couch and wrapping you with a soft blanket like a little burrito, “sit here. I’ll start dinner.”

You blinked at his broad back as he made his way to the kitchen. His raspy voice floated back to you as he sang some popular song to himself while he cooked. Soon the room filled with the smell of cumin and cayenne pepper. It occurred to you that you could run, but there was a blizzard outside and you were only dressed in the t-shirt and pants that made up your work uniform. If you left the comfort of his home and walked blindly into the storm, it was likely you’d get lost and die of hypothermia before anyone would find you.

Rahl emerged with two big bowls of chili filled to the brim, carefully handing you one of them and a spoon. You looked down to see he’d made it just as you liked it, with a large hunk of cornbread off to the side and a dollop of sour cream on top.

“How did you know…” you asked, your voice dying in your throat. Rahl must have been stalking you closely to have picked up on such a random preference.

He stirred his chili and pulled a cheesy spoonful to his mouth, savoring it before he spoke.

“I know everything about you (Y/N),” he said, his bright blue eyes glinting in the soft light of his home, “I wanted everything to be perfect for you when you finally came home.”

You took a few more spoonfuls of the delicious chili before you responded.

“It’s really good,” you said, looking into your bowl…the chili was very convincing. The flavors were perfect with just enough spicy heat to warm you up without burning your tongue.

Shaking that away you leveled Rahl with your best no-nonsense glare.

“You can’t just kidnap me! It’s not right,” you informed him firmly, “I have a life!”

Rahl chortled and his long, blood red tongue swept out to lick chili off of the corner of his mouth, the gesture suddenly shooting tingles down your spine.

“And I can provide a better life,” he countered, “you never have to work at a fast food restaurant again, for one. And taking care of you makes me happy. I want to give you everything…and all I ask is your companionship.”

He set his bowl down and carefully extracted yours from your hands, placing it on the coffee table. Curling his big body over yours, he cupped your cheek in his hand. He marveled at how much smaller you were than him. A tiny little creature that needed his protection.

“You are a rare and beautiful soul, floating in a murky sea of mediocrity. I want to take you away from all that…create a world for you where you can thrive. I don’t expect you to fall in love me with just one bowl of chili, but if you just give me a chance, I can show you real happiness. The two of us, together.”

His words, in his husky voice, were so tempting. You’d been single for a long time, struggling to make ends meet. You slept in a walk-in closet you rented in a house meant for 3 that housed 8. Your car barely ran, you’d bought it from some guy on the internet who was just going to junk it if you hadn’t offered him a couple hundred dollars to take it off of his hands. You’d slept in it for two months after that before you could afford the walk-in closet. There were days where you didn’t eat at all or if you did it was stolen from the Popeye’s where you worked.

“But we hardly know each other,” you mumbled, trying to convince yourself he was lying, trying to trick you into a false sense of security.

His large hand drifted down your cheek, then gingerly along the delicate curve of your neck to your arm, finally resting on the hand folded on your lap, leaving the skin tingling in his wake. He pulled your small fingers to his lips, giving them a soft kiss. Your cheeks burned and you took in a sharp breath.

“Then let’s get to know each other,” he purred, pressing your palm to his cheek.

It was smooth, but firm and you were finally calm enough to scent the sweet fragrance of vanilla wafting up from his skin.

“Let's not be strangers anymore.”

You were suddenly aware of how close he was, a loose feather brushing your forehead. Your heartbeat kicked up, leaving you breathless. This close you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. His lips were full with a delicate curve forming his cupid’s bow and his eyes gleamed with an unnatural blue light, framed by fluffy white lashes. And he was just so BIG. He towered over you, his feathered shoulders taking up your whole field of view. How you hadn’t noticed him stalking you, you had no idea.

Your eyes instinctively dropped to his lips, so close you could feel the heat emanating from them. Bathed in his sweet, vanilla scent you found yourself tipping forward until your mouth just barely grazed his. You could hear each thud of your pounding heart in your ears. The two of you shared a breath for a moment, before his smooth lips pressed against yours in earnest.

A lot can be learned from a kiss. Rahl’s mouth moved over yours gently. He let you explore at your own pace, holding himself back from grabbing you and pressing you to him. He wanted you to feel comfortable with him. He never wanted you to feel frightened. It was incredibly difficult with your soft skin so close to his. He had to pull away before he was lost to his own passion, preening a bit when your head followed his for just a moment. You quickly caught yourself, sinking back into the couch, your cheeks on fire.

“Here, let’s eat before it gets cold,” he reminded you of the chili you’d completely forgotten about, setting the bowl in your slightly shaking hands, “do you want to watch a movie? I downloaded all of your favorites.”

You nodded weakly, willing your heartbeat to slow, as Rahl brought up a list of movies for you to pick from. You chose a horror movie you’d seen a thousand times and to Rahl’s delight, you snuggled up next to him, finishing your bowl. Suddenly you felt like a couple, like you’d known each other your whole lives. As far as Rahl was concerned this was a dream come true and he quickly abandoned the rest of his dinner to throw an arm around you, holding you close until you drifted off to sleep.

#monster x girl #monster oc #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster romance #monster fluff #monster x human #fluff #romance fluff #romance #monster bf #yandere male #yandere headcanons #yandere fluff #yandere x reader

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mcufan72 · 3 months

Text

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader (AU) / 18+

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Warnings: none so far, contains fluff, angst, morally grey stuff and smut (eventually), some teasing, sexual tension and some lustful feelings but I think it's still a slow-burn love story.

A/N: I had some struggles writing this down, it took me several days to get it right. Maybe this chapter still sounds better in my head than the written lines. But I hope you all like reading it.

A big thank you @poetic-fiasco 💚❤️ for a phrase you created in a completely different context (you know which phrase I mean) and for allowing me to use it. It's just two words but they fitted perfectly that evening 😅

Loki stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the large living room of his penthouse in Jersey City, New Jersey and enjoyed the first rays of sunshine in the morning. He loved the fantastic view from here over the Hudson River to the amazing skyline of Manhattan in the light of the rising sun. How far he had come. He still quarrelled with what he had done to this city and its inhabitants and the sick plans he had to rule this planet as their king. Fortunately, he got stopped right in time, further damage was prevented and after realizing his mistake, a mistake he made because he was being tortured and forced, he got the chance for redemption. He had made good use of it. The beast was annihilated in close combat and not at least because of his help and his extraordinary skills to talk, to lie, to trick, to use his magic and to fight.

In the beginning, many of the Avengers were wary and didn't trust him. But his brother never gave up on him, he never lost his trust in him or the love he had for him. Loki would always be grateful for it and yes, he loved his brother, too. Indeed. After many times in over ten years of proving his loyalty, his sense of justice, his negotiation skills and his will to fight for the right things, literally and figuratively, they all became friends, more or less, and since two years, mostly working as an ambassador and negotiator, he was allowed to live alone without any kind of “babysitting”. Of course, his brother still kept an eye on him and so did Tony Stark. But it became more and more a kind of visiting each other than controlling him. Loki was fine with that. He knew some things needed time to be forgiven and living under the radar when he came back to New York twelve years ago, under a fake name and in solitude, made things easier for him. People came to New York and also left this city again. It happens frequently in a metropolis with millions of population and also people forget easily in the fast pace and hectic of today's time. It also wouldn't be long anymore before he would have served his sentence and he would be free to go wherever he wanted.

While watching the first Staten Island Ferries launching for the Statue of Liberty and just clothed in black sweatpants, one hand in his pocket and a mug of coffee in his other hand, he was thinking of you. He still felt your body and your warmth in his arms. He shouldn't. He decided to live alone, unattached to a woman. He had his brother and his friends and that was already more than he deserved. Also, love and relationships never ended well for him and he was tired of getting his heart broken over and over again. Maybe a sinner like him with blood-drenched hands didn't deserve the love and affection of a woman at all. He was fine with only having sexual affairs from time to time with faceless, nameless women to satisfy his carnal needs.

But it has been a while now since he had a woman tangled in his bedsheets and getting a lusty distraction from his loneliness. He'd love to have physical contact again but not with another faceless woman. If he would share a bed with someone again it had to be you. You had entered his life and he couldn't get you out of his head. He loved your appearance, which was surely a fassade or sort of a costume, he was well aware of that. If there was someone who could relate to it, it was him. There was much more he liked about you, the lovely and decent woman behind that masquerade. He had already seen some tiny little glimpses of the real you, who were shoved into a situation you seemingly never wanted. He liked your attitude, sassy and cute, you were eloquent and smart. You knew what you wanted and what you did not want.

The little mistake you had made at the dining table didn't bother him at all. Nobody is perfect and he knew exactly what he was talking about. It just made you more adorable. But how realistic was his wish to sleep with you? You had made it very clear that you weren't interested in getting sexually involved with him. And he had told you the same. And wouldn't it be inconsequential to change his mind now? He also struggled with the ‘sex-only’-thing when it came to you. Didn't you deserve more and better? You shouldn't sleep with someone like him. Knee-deep in blood, sin and guilt. Guilty of murder. Guilty of having tried to conquer a planet and subjugate the people of Earth against their will. Your people. If you knew his real identity you would hate him. Abysmal hate from the bottom of your heart perhaps. You were an angel and he was the sinner. Heaven and hell. You two had nothing in common, nothing was binding you. You were his escort, his distraction. His distraction from pain and loneliness. And he was just your client, one of many who paid you for your service, who paid the money you urgently needed for who knows what. But he hated that other men touched you, and spent time with you. He knew his blood-drenched hands weren't worthy to touch you at all but other men weren't worthy to touch you either.

Damn, he shouldn't have danced with you. Because now he wanted the feeling of you in his arms over and over again. Yes, it did things to him and that evening, when he physically was so close to you it wasn't easy for him to suppress an erection. But this urge to hold you in his arms again wasn't just sexual. He wanted to feel your warmth, your closeness again and not least he wanted to enjoy your company again. And he wanted to take care of you. A care you surely wouldn't want or need. He didn't deserve you but he wanted you, wanted to be with you, no matter what and he must find a way to avoid that other men would ever lay an eye or a hand on you or take advantage of you.

All of this was the reason why he wanted to book you for next Saturday. He had already sent an email to your agency promptly after your first date and expected the confirmation for the appointment during the day. He would go to the opening of a small art gallery with you, an event he actually didn't want to go to. He didn't really like to go to exclusively social events without a business background. He had decided otherwise now because it was a perfect reason for booking you to escort him to this event …and to see you again. You came into his life and only then he realized how utterly lonely he was. Maybe at least it hadn't been a good decision to live a life in solitude. Should he ask you for a shared night? Would you agree? Would it be too soon and too offensive to ask you? If you'd agree to share the bed with him, you’d have to follow some of his rules because there was still this one thing he could never let you know.

Besides all of this, he would give you all the money you needed without getting anything from you but it seemed you would never take his money without giving something in return. He was sure you wouldn't even ask him for money and you probably had good reasons for it. Loki took a sip of his coffee, reached for a random book on his impressive bookshelf and tried to distract himself by reading a few lines. He made himself comfortable on his sofa and began to read. It didn't work. His thoughts always drifted back to you.

**********************

What should you do now? You sat at the table in your apartment, your lunch untouched on a plate next to you. You weren't hungry. There was a lump in your stomach and it took away your appetite. How should you manage all of this? Your studies, the bills, the increased rent for your apartment and your mum's nursing home, visiting her on Sundays, daily dates with men you had to escort to functions, and from now on appointments for the weekends, too. You should focus on your studies and finish your degree to get back to a serious, well-paid job again. You didn't want to work as an escort lady for the rest of your life. But your study was so expensive that you ran out of money sooner than expected. You still had some saved money but you needed it for something else so you wouldn't touch it.

There have been times when you had all the money and possibilities to afford an apartment like this, your mum's nursing home and the care for her, and a nice life with all its amenities. And because of one silly mistake your whole life crashed down. But maybe you didn't deserve it any better. You sat in front of your laptop and stared at the files of your bank statement and your busy schedule. Now there were some options. There were just two if you were being honest. You could twist and squirm all you want, you wouldn't earn enough money, not even as an escort. You could move into a much cheaper and even smaller apartment which wouldn't be easy in Manhattan, unless you liked to live in a rathole. But you had to try it and in the worst case, you would live in a rathole, for heaven's sake. Also, you could earn some more money a bit faster if you…the thought made you cringe but you had to do it, you had no other choice. But there was only this one man imaginable for you, the one who had told you, he only wanted to be escorted by you and nothing more. And after that dumb mistake at your first real appointment with him, you had been sure you would never see him again. Luke Larsson was a man who didn't accept unprofessionalism. And yet he had been very nice to you and you appreciated it.

You took a sip of your coffee and calculated your financial issues for the umpteenth time. It was to despair. Would you ever find a way out of this fucked up situation? Sometimes you wished you could go back to your little village in the south of Great Britain, back into your little happy bubble, far away from trouble, bad news and harsh reality. Back to the times when you baked cinnamon rolls with your mum every Sunday afternoon. Life was peaceful there but those times were over. Welcome to reality!

Taking another sip of your coffee, you were closing the laptop lid, when a pling was signalling an incoming email. You opened the laptop lid completely again and opened the mail. It was from Rhea. She had promised to send you the further details of Luke's next appointment with you.

Hey dear,

I hope you're doing well. As promised earlier, here's the update for your appointment with Mr. Larsson.

It's on Saturday afternoon and I hope this fits your schedule. It's a gallery opening so I hope this information helps to choose the right clothing appropriate to the occasion.

Mr. Larsson will wait for you at the gallery, Walker will drive you there. He'll pick you up at your home at 3 pm. If you have any further questions, feel free to call me and please mail me your confirmation for this appointment so I can inform Mr Larsson.

PS: please remember the date with Mr Rogers tonight. I'm sorry that he had booked you at short notice. Have fun!

Take care, dear

Rhea

Luke had booked you again. He really wanted you to escort him again and you still couldn't believe it. Thank goodness he was not resentful and hadn't told Rhea about your stupid mistake. He gave you a second chance and you looked forward to seeing him again but you felt nervous at the same time. Things were getting real now. Should you offer him your advanced service? He didn't flirt, that's what he made very clear to you but the way he danced with you and looked at you has been very close to it. And it felt good. You barely remembered when it was the last time someone had looked at you like he did that evening.

Anyway, will he say yes? Why should he say yes and also pay for it? He could have any woman he wanted, they surely lined up at his door to spend a night of debauched passion with him. This man was pure sex. Women probably fling themselves at him daily. Your heart clenched painfully when you pictured him with other women, more lovable and more desirable than you. But you had no right to judge him or the other women for it. You had no right to think and feel like that. At least he was a man with carnal needs. You didn't have an exclusive right to meet him. It was the other way around, he decided if he wanted you to escort him or not. You should better be grateful that Luke wanted to meet you again.

You should give it a try and offer him to sleep with you. Couldn't be that difficult. It was just sex, right? You never cared much about sex, you never understood what the fuss was all about. Your exes never had much patience with you when you needed a bit longer to feel satisfied and maybe you had always been the problem. So what. A quick fuck, in and out and in between moaning a little horny and he would be done in three minutes. You were good at faking orgasms. Pretending you enjoy it as much as he does shouldn't be that difficult for you. He wouldn't even notice it, men never noticed. You always thought you would be too decent for that, having sex with a client but you had already fallen so deep…and fuck decency. Life gave a shit about it…so why should you!

For now, you should focus on your next date tonight, Mr.Rogers. You would meet him at a dancing hall. You like dancing and for now, it would be a good distraction from your current problems. It seemed a bit old-fashioned to go to a dancing bar where they played old classics from the 40's and 50’s but you were sure you would've fun and a decent gentleman at your side tonight. And after tonight you had just one more date and then it would already be Saturday, when you would see Luke again. A little smile curved your lips and you headed to the bathroom to get ready for tonight. It was time for Sugar's performance.

Your date for Friday night got cancelled. You were already waiting at Vivian's Velvet and having your obligatory glass of champagne at the bar when Rhea sent you a message. Your client got ill but maybe he just changed his mind. It didn't happen very often but it happened. Well, you had a free evening now, and you still got paid because it wasn't your fault the date was cancelled so you had some time to think about some rules and boundaries for sexual intercourse with clients. Or should you better say, rules for having sex with Luke? There were definitely some things you wouldn't do and you should be well prepared for a clarifying conversation. No perverse shit, no hard-core sex and the most important thing: no kisses! And falling in love is strictly forbidden, for both sides. Sex only!

You would never fall for a client and you would never fall for Luke Larsson. Not for his stupid, soft obsidian curls, not for his broad shoulders, his strong arms or his long legs, not for his incredible charm, or his beautiful eyes, not for his devastating smile, no matter how handsome he was or how fast he made your heart beating. He was your client and that's all he'll ever be.

On Saturday morning you've gotten up early to have enough time for grocery shopping, doing the dishes and cleaning up your messy apartment. Books and papers for your studies and clothes, your normal ones and those you had worn for your dates, were spread all over the floor, chairs, the table and the sofa. The daily appointments on weekdays had a deep impact on your daily routine. You were so tired sometimes that you didn't have the energy to clean everything up daily. And from now on you won't have the weekends either to relax a little bit. So you were in a hurry now because your appointment was already in the afternoon today and you still had to shower and prepare yourself for the gallery opening. You weren't sure if you were ready to ask Luke if he wanted to sleep with you but you'd definitely ask him. The pressure to earn more money quickly was getting higher and you've come to terms with it that you had to expand your service.

After showering you looked through your closet to find an adequate outfit for a gallery opening. You decided to go for an elegant, refined trouser suit in pastel pink, combined with a white blouse with a deep neckline, and white high heels. Underneath you wore white lace underwear. You loved this sexy set of bra and thong but it let you look more innocent than you were. You hoped Luke would like it, in case he would accept your offer tonight. With your hair in a tight bun with the knot deep in your neck and dark pink lipstick on your lips, Sugar was ready to meet Mr Larsson.

Walker drove you to the gallery where Luke was already waiting for you. Walker got out of the limousine but Loki gestured to him that he wanted to open the door for you. The moment you got out of the backseat and took the hand he was offering you, you were directly under his spell again. He looked so dapper and seductive in his suit which was midnight blue, combined with a tight-fitting white shirt, its collar open, his beautiful neck on perfect display. His look was completed by black Oxfords and a silk scarf around his neck. The scarf shimmered in the darkest shades of blue and green you had ever seen. The scent of his cologne was alluring and you wanted to bury your nose into his soft hair that framed his incredibly beautiful face perfectly. Indeed, he was a god in a suit or maybe he was the devil himself. A handsome devil, seductively hot, ready to take you with him into his den of desire, ready to burn with you in hell. Damn it, your imagination was running too wild.

“Good afternoon, Sugar. Thank you for coming. I'm glad to see you and you look beautiful again”, he greeted you gentlemanly and you came back to reality.

“Good afternoon, Luke. Thank you for your compliment…I think I look a bit like candy floss…,” you answered jokingly and turned in a circle once, a big grin on your face.

“Sorry, I don't quite understand…” Loki said and looked quizzically at you. For him you looked lovely, like a beautiful, sexy angel.

“Candy floss, it's mostly pastel pink and… made of sugar… nah, forget it, it was a bad joke,” you smiled at him and shook your head lightly and Loki smiled back at you. He looked so pretty when he smiled. “Thank you for booking me again. It's a pleasure to accompany you to the opening.” you continued kindly.

“Don't worry, it wasn't a bad joke. I just don't know what candyfloss is and to me, you look beautiful,” he told you. It was what he honestly thought and he could imagine that you probably taste sweet like sugar. “I hope you like art?”

“Oh yes, I do. I'm already excited to have a look at all of the artwork.” You replied genuinely and Loki smiled contentedly at you.

“Then let's go inside,” and he offered you his arm which you took gratefully. It felt so good to touch him.

Inside, you two were greeted by a middle-aged beautiful woman who was the gallery owner and an old friend of Tony Stark. She gave you a short introduction to the artworks in her gallery and that you should feel free to get drinks, canapés and sweets from the buffet. Just from the way she looked at Luke, you could tell she was enchanted by him and you couldn't blame her for it. But you felt something inside of you you should better not feel at all. It felt as if she would take him away from you and he wasn't even a friend of yours. You should better not forget what you were for him. You were his escort, something like a fake date and he was your client. While he was still in conversation with different people who seemed to know him, you strolled through the exhibition until you stood in front of a painting you couldn't keep your eyes off.

*************

Loki tried to end the several conversations he was drawn into, quickly because you were already on your way through the gallery and he wanted to spend the time with you and not with random guests who came to the opening. First, he couldn't find you, there were so many people in there but around the next corner, he finally found you.

You stood in front of a painting you couldn't stop staring at. A painting with a golden elegant vase filled to the brim with all sorts of wildflowers, tulips, roses, daffodils, lilies, and peonies, loosely arranged in it. As elegant as the vase was, as wild and untamed were the flowers. Loki couldn't stop staring at you and enjoying the view of the woman he began to care about. It touched him how fascinated you stared at the painting and how you were able to zone out the world around you. You literally bathed in the effect of the picture which it obviously had on you. He gave you further moments of enjoyment before he walked towards you, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

“Do you like it?” He asked you politely

“Yes,... it's beautiful. I don't know why, it's just…the flowers, the colours…it just put a spell on me. The flowers are pure life, colourful, beautiful, wild but destined to wither and die because they got cut but still…they are pure beauty and I can literally smell their various wonderful scents.” You were still captivated when you whispered under your breath so Loki couldn't hear it “... and they remind me of home…like your British accent…”

“Yeah, it attracts us, it's winning us all over whether we want it or not. Some things have this effect on us,” he replied and walked closer to you.

Loki had an idea why you liked the painting that much. The motif reminded him of you: elegant and pretty as the vase, and wonderful, wild, free, untamed and colourful as the flowers. But if he would paint this picture of you right now, the vase would lay shattered on the floor and the flowers were crushed and stepped on, everything broken and sad. That's what he saw whenever he looked into your eyes and he wished he could help you with more than just his money.

“Is that so, Luke?” and you turned towards him.

“What do you mean? “ He looked at you from above. He was so tall and so close to you. It was now or never. You knew if you wouldn't do it now, your courage would leave you faster than you could imagine.

“What is it that attracts you?” and your one hand softly caressed his outer thigh, travelled upwards over his really adorable butt, kneading it gently, and then farther upwards to the waistband of his trousers. Your actions went straight to his cock which twitched against the confinement of his slacks. Your gaze was pure seduction and your hand on his body was hot like fire. He grabbed your wrist at lightning speed.

“What are you doing there, Sugar?” he murmured darkly, frowning.

“Testing the waters. Testing if you're really not interested in flirting. I can feel some…tension between us, if you know what I mean,” you whispered and your gaze wandered down from his eyes over his lips and his body to his visible bulge. Were you really capable of doing this to him? Or did he just get hard because you might promise him a quicky? Your gazing down at his manhood didn't go unnoticed by Loki. What were you up to?

“Stop being naughty, Sugar,” he growled darkly.

“Why? Don't you like it when I touch you?”

“We have a deal. Don't forget about that. And besides, you have no idea what you're asking for.”

“Really? Maybe I know exactly what I'm asking for. And deals are negotiable,” your words were dripping like honey from your mouth.

“No! And you have no idea what it means to tease me!” Loki responded firmly.

“Uhhh…now I'm curious. Don't play hard to get, handsome,” you cooed.

You knew you were playing with fire. But didn't all men say things like this? And then they promise you endless pleasure just to be done in three minutes or so, leaving you unpleasured and you were sure he wasn't any different. You were used to it and it didn't matter. But maybe you were completely wrong. Seeing him how aroused he got, aroused you too and you wanted to feel him close. Much closer than you had already felt him when he danced with you. You wouldn't evolve feelings for him, never, absolutely not but all of a sudden your body craved attention, touches and some adoration. Against your expectation, you almost felt bad to let him pay for having sex with you. But you were an escort, not his girlfriend and the escort lady got paid, period!

“Wanna sleep with me tonight?” Your shameless offer caught Loki off guard and he immediately let go of your wrist. He played it cool and his facial expression turned to stone. He couldn't believe that you offered him your body so willingly. He should refuse it. But then you would ask another guy and he couldn't allow that. Who knew how another guy would treat you? He also couldn't deny that he wanted you, that he craved your touch and your attention. But what the hell made you do this?

You grabbed the loose ends of his scarf and pulled his head gently down and him closer towards you so you could speak right into his ear.

“There's nothing to it, Luke. Just two needy bodies, giving each other some pleasure to get some steam off. What do you think? ”

What were you thinking? What if he declined your offer? He could have any woman in this city and he wouldn't even have to pay for it. You weren't any special, just expensive to book, and if he says no you would've made a terrible fool out of yourself.

“I think you still haven't an idea what you're asking for…I'm not a tender lover,” he grumbled.

“It doesn't matter, tenderness is for beginners. I'm not scared of you.”

It was just the half of the truth. It didn't matter because the few men you had been with hadn't been overly tender but you were afraid of him, not in a bad way though. You had a lot of respect for him, he radiated dominance and masculinity and it aroused you, he aroused you and that was what made you fear him. He made you feel good and safe and that scared you.

“Do you offer this…special service of yours to other men, too? Despite that, you told me you're done with men.” He had no right to ask you this. He had no right to be jealous or possessive. He shouldn't go too far, you weren't his and you could do whatever you wanted. But it made his heart clench when he thought about other men touching you.

“If I do, it's none of your business! And I'm free to change my mind about men. I do what I want.” You whispered firmly into his ear.

How dare he ask you that? It was a normal thing many escort ladies did and there was nothing wrong about it. It happened frequently and consensually. But you didn't judge him for that question and it didn't surprise you that he thought you offered sex to your other clients too. He couldn't know you weren't doing it.

“I won't discuss it with you. So, your decision …do you want me or not?” you purred into his ear.

“Are you really sure you want it? If so, to be very clear, don't expect anything more than just the physical act. I just copulate, don't expect any feelings of love from me. Nothing will change that." His voice was pure velvet in your ear and his warm breath fanned over your neck to your cleavage. It made you shiver pleasantly.

“Well, that's fair enough. I'm not looking for love, as you should know.”

“We still see it the same way then.”

“We do, Luke”, and you loosened your grip on his scarf, put your hands on his chest and let them tenderly travel down over his pecs to his midriff before you took them off of his gorgeous body. Even clothed you could feel every perfectly defined muscle.

Loki had goosebumps all over his skin. You made him feel too comfortable around you and to his astonishment, this feeling wasn't just sexual.

“So we have a deal?” you wanted to know.

“We have a deal”, Loki confirmed. Your hands travelling down his torso hadn't helped get rid of his erection, not in the slightest.

“Then let's go to my hotel later. It's one of the best in Manhattan. I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun. Scottish whisky for you, champagne for me and…nearly whatever you want, including me.” You were so nervous. Would he like you? Could you satisfy his needs? How rough would he get? You'd definitely need a glass of champagne before you could let him touch you and a cigarette afterwards.

Nonetheless, you'd try to enjoy it. He was such a gentleman and you were absolutely sure he would treat you well and respectfully. And he smelled so good. It was like a drug. Also, you had some rules and if he wouldn't respect and accept them, you would definitely not sleep with him. And you had Walker, he would always protect you.

“Nearly whatever I want? What does that mean, Sugar?” he questioned softly.

“What I said. But I have rules. Strict rules.”

“Of course, you have. And I have mine. We should talk about them later. I don't think it's the right place here for that”, he whispered.

“Yeah, I suggest we settle the matter later in the hotel. Walker will drive us there”, you offered him.

“That's a good call”, he answered, nodding in agreement.

“Fine.” You licked your lips and bit lightly into your lower lip. Loki gasped inwardly. Why were you doing this? Suddenly he turned his head to the side.

“Is everything okay, Luke?”

“I don't like how that guy looks at you”, Loki growled quietly.

“Which guy?” you wanted to know.

“The guy across from us” and you followed Loki's gaze.

“Let him stare.”

“Absolutely not. You're here with me. No one stares at you like this”, Loki murmured and he put his arm possessively around your middle and pulled you close to his side. Absolutely no one was allowed to look at you like this when you were with him.

“He's just jealous of you, Luke. Maybe he likes my trouser suit...or he's a peeper. Don't worry, I'm still your arm candy”, you tried to calm him down but you couldn't suppress a grin.

If looks could kill, the poor guy would die in an instant. You put an arm around Loki's waist and placed your other hand on his chest. His heart was beating so fast, like yours and you both looked at the guy. Loki with a death stare and you with a bright smile. You loved this game you played together. And it made your heart swell that he got angry just because of a random guy who looked at you. None of your exes had been like this. Under different circumstances, you two would be a wonderful couple. The guy immediately looked away, obviously feeling embarrassed and frightened, and turned around.

“Would you please take your hand from my chest?”

“Just in case you let go of my waist.” you offered him sweetly.

“Sorry, I didn't want to…” and he cleared his throat.

“It's okay, Luke, don't worry. We're going to get much closer tonight…Shall we look for some canapés and drinks? It seems, you could need a cooling down”, you said with a quick look at his crotch. Was there a rosy shade on his perfect cheeks? “…oh and I want a dessert…”, and you took him by his hand and pulled him with you to the buffet.

“You and your desserts”, he laughed, amused.

“You should try them some day”, you smiled brightly at him.

“No, thanks, I'm good”, Loki answered, trying to sound serious.

After having some drinks and snacks, you ate the final bite of your dessert and licked the last bits off of the spoon and your lips. Loki was wondering if you did it on purpose. It seemed you liked to tease him and to add to the sexual tension that was obviously still buzzing between you two. It was still palpable. You knew how to seduce and it made you even more desirable.

“Shall we have a look at the other works in the gallery before we leave? I'd like to see them.”

“Anything you want, Sugar. We have time, don't we?”

“I hope so…or are you eager to get to the hotel soon” you teased him.

“I might be horny but I can control myself.”

“Really? That's rare. Most men can't wait to blow their load,” you answered lasciviously and smiled knowingly. You wondered where your self-confidence came from. The thing that was to come was new terrain for you. Shouldn't you feel more nervous? But maybe this was just how you tried to downplay your nervousness.

Loki smirked and rolled his eyes.

“You really amaze me. You're such a beautiful and decent woman but you've such a filthy mouth.”

If only he knew. If you ever have been decent, your decency would soon be gone. At the latest when he fucked you. He would see you differently then and maybe he would also lose his respect for you. And that was one of your biggest fears.

🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹

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onyourhyuck · 2 years

Text

Unbreakable Promise: Meet Me In Another Life. | Johnny Suh.

prologue- “I’ve been waiting for you. Searching for you.” + “I’ve been here all along.”

summary: Johnny made a promise to find you when you reincarnate in another body. He waited years to find you on his search. When searching for your reincarnation, he meets a young girl in need of help. Will he fall in love again?

tw- fox!johnny x human!y/n. Smut. Romance. Joseon era sorta. Angst (many angst moments.) fluff. Dom!johnny. Y/n gets her shit railed tbf. Hitting it from the back. Hair pulling. Mention of master x servant relationship. Johnny calls her mistress. Johnny is a LOYAL BF.

note- KINkTOBER FIC.

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Do you know what’s the most dangerous thing for a Mountain Fox Spirit to ever encounter? It is a young beautiful woman that makes his heart quench and fall in love.

Foxes are undesirably romanticist. They devote themselves to one person forever, even in life and death they will not find someone else to love. They shall die alone or with you. The foxes who are meant to be servants to serve one master are undoubtedly loyal to the bone and will not hesitate to kill millions for only just one person. They can be blinded by love all they wish, even if it meant the god of calamity shall murder him on the path. If it meant to have karma debt in the next life, so be it, everything will get better when you live next to the one you love and wish to keep thousands upon thousands years forever like the moment. However obsession can’t get you anywhere but a dead end.

Johnny made an unbreakable promise to his lover and master. He was unable to protect her from the sudden death by an arrow to the heart, killed by the selfish village folks. Painting of her crying face, dirty by the charcoal and hair ruffed up when he squeezed it right to his chest once her last breathe was ‘I’ll see you in my next life.’ lives rent free in the fox servant’s mind. Her voice, he wants to listen to it again. Oh how much it kills his heart. It hurts to live without your lover, he feels like he is being killed and put back alive while surviving in this ridiculous world.

If it wasn’t for his promise, the promise that he swears to abide with his life, if only if he didn’t make it he would’ve ended himself and follow you into the afterlife. Quite extreme right? But it’s the truth. The pain of surviving and staying alive while your lover for life is gone from earth and in the afterlife waiting to be reincarnated, it is insufferable. Hardest pain he’s ever went through.

“I promise i will find you, reincarnate please. I will find you no matter what.”

The man wearing the traditional Joseon era hanbok with the black loose hair flipping through the fingers, he sits down by the very traditional house resting on the mountains away from civilisation to bother him. It is rising above the village down there. The typical joseon house has a small bath section for anyone to use, multiple slide door rooms and they sleep on the floor. The fox looking up at the round sun blazing like a hot fireball today, made him close his eyes until he moves to sit under a shed.

“Did god of sun have to make today so hot, darn it.” Johnny cursed, sighing out.

“Oi fox did you get the cabbage like i told you to.” The old hunch lady with a cane approaches the young man, poking him by the cane annoyingly. She cackled when Johnny grunts flicking the cane away from him. He would reveal the large basket of cabbage he had carried on his back from the village and up the long mountain hill pathway, in this forsaken raging heatwave from the sun.

“Ahh I see you did.” She coos as she takes the cabbage basket, humming happily. Johnny watches her as he clicks his tongue. “Old hag you always make kimchi. Why?”

The elderly woman turns to the fox. “Because it’s good. Don’t you like my kimchi?” She asks as she sat down on the wooden floor, breaking apart the fatha the leaves in miniature pieces.

“I do like it but why don’t you make something with meat.” He gushed. It’s hard living with only vegetables, at this point he will go back to his vicious meat eater days where he ate human liver.

“Meat is expensive. Fox if you’re hungry just go and hunt. Isn’t that in your nature?” The woman replies back and he pouts, disappointed by the stereotype. “I’m classy, not like those savage foxes. I prefer a cooked meal by you granny.”

“Tch some useless fox you are. Maybe you spend so much time in civilisation with humans that you forget you’re a bloody fox.” She points out as if analysing Johnny’s whole life he’s lived. Johnny clicks his tongue. “My master was human. I adapted to her ways, I don’t plan on changing if that’s what you’re asking me to do.” He chides defensively and the Hag let a short lived chuckle at the boy who was so eager on staying in he past, in the past where his master lived on as an alive being and not a dead corpse. Johnny has kept things the same, the traditional house has your room untouched, the hanboks she wore were clean and kept away in the clothing pile. The things she loved to eat were still stacked and bought. Johnny simply did not want to move past your death, even if it was thirty five years ago. When his master has died he lived alone for five years until he met this old grandma on the street slums of the village, though she wasn’t just some old lady, she was a shaman. The old soul has sacrificed herself for immortality, simply to live forever as an old shaman soul, leading people into the light. The shaman could recognise who he was. She saw Johnny’s ears and nine tails, simply because she herself isn’t human.

“Sheesh. You rather live in the past.” She had respond back in a blunt tone, washing the cabbage kimchi in the bowl. He didn’t reply but mentally he agreed. Johnny was scared and too heartbroken to move past the death scarring him every night.

“I know you searched for her while you were in the village too. How did that go?” Shaman asked and Johnny was brought back to the time earlier he was searching while shopping, technically not slacking off but at the same time he was multitasking two tasks. Looking for your reincarnation in public while shopping the kimchi cabbage. The fox would lure girls that had similar face structure to you or that gave him a vibe it might be your reincarnation. But everytime he went and checked, stripping the left side of the hanbok to reveal the shoulder, there was no bite mark. It wasn’t you. None of these girls were you. By the time he had checked, he had to run away because the girls were screaming pervert.

In his defence Johnny did not care if palace guards patrolling the village would arrest him, in all honesty he could breakout and leave never to be found again, however it would be a hassle for him to be caught anyways. Humans are very persistent people. The times he was frustrated and down to see how none of these were your reincarnation, he began to wonder if you were even reincarnated. Johnny begged the gods in the sky to tell him if you were reincarnated and they all replied with a yes. They had no reason to lie to him about this. Surely, you are somewhere roaming here. He just doesn’t know where.

Johnny flings up in sudden movement when the sharp ears twinkle around to the sound of a panting voice as if it were running at high speed with the background voices of guards rushing towards her it seems. Johnny’s eyes avert from the side looking at the grandma. “I’ll be back old hag. See ya.” Johnny shouts leaving the porch as he ran to the helpless girl to help her out. But curiosity has died quickly when the girl would be met with the traditional house, in front seeing the muscular handsome man in the navy blue white hanbok and a seared swordsman sword. She rushes to the six foot man, gasping. “Help me please they are looking for me.” She cried looking behind where no sign of them except the loud ranging voices becoming louder and louder indicating that they were coming closer to them. Johnny looks down with an apathetic gaze. “Why should i help you?” He grumbles pushing the girl away from his body when she had held his right hand desperately. She flings down on the ground, coughing out the dust from the sand stone floor. “Please! I ran away . They will bring me back to him.” She pleads. Johnny couldn’t help but wonder what this young girl did so badly to be chased by guards and soldiers. He tilts his head, sighing.

Tears ran soon streaming down her cheeks, those Pearl shape eyes with deep emerald green mixed in with brown ache watching the man who was about to walk away and leave the helpless girl get arrested. But when those tears drop down like blood from his master’s body, he was reminded of the crying face the dead lover made when she had died. Johnny with widen eyes, Stops on his tracks . Why did he get this flashback with you?

“Get inside the house.” Johnny commands, lifting your frail body on the feet. Your hanbok would be lifted as you ran into the house. The man stands where the guards have appeared finally, rushing in. Johnny pulls out the sword, body silhouette glowing with a yellow outline leaking out the power of the nine tails.

Sword pointing to the army of soldiers, in a swung and a gentle step in the air, a single slash stows towards the soldiers flinging them on the ground unconscious. Wind breeze echoes through them. The power of the air and fire fox, never underestimate Johnny suh, the mountain spirit.

He turns shaking his head at them, tutting to the unconscious bodies. “Oh dear god. This couldn’t really went the easier way if you hadn’t stepped in my territory.” Johnny would say with a scolding tone. The girl gasped averting the man to look at her.

“You have tails and ears!�� You point out as they were wiggling in the yellow outline. Johnny looks down to the clean shining sword before pushing it back to the sheath, he comes forward . You saw the ears and the tail disappear and immediately flinch when Johnny held your wrist tight.

“Forget this happened.” Johnny said as his eyes turn golden yellow. You blink at him, whispering. “Uhm...you’re hurting me.” You point out lightly as you look down to the tight wrist hold. Johnny banally let’s go, confused why the hypnosis and memory erasing did not work on you; eyes went back to deep black colour, as he clears his voice.

“Well this is stupid.” He murmurs under his breath. “I saved you. I hate being in debt to people, so this is the only time i help you, human girl.”

“Right. I’m sorry for the trouble. Uhm.” Johnny walks away midway my sentence as i shout out with my hand out for a handshake. Seemingly the man was quite blunt and uninterested at first— the sudden change of heart made you wonder what made him help you, a stranger running away from the soldiers. “My name is y/n!” You exclaim shakily with your hand out, looking down at your palm waiting for him to take him it. Johnny raises an eyebrow, as if he were analysing y/n from head to toe. The man lightly pulls his hand forward grabbing yours with a shake. He then lets go.

“Johnny.” He replied quietly.

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“Come on eat as much as you want!” The elderly beams as she fed you more and more, seemingly this felt like a fever dream. lovely warm grandma was feeding you, your saviour was on the left side of the wide open room protesting from feeding you a lot as well as saying how you shouldn’t be staying here and go back to the village where you came from. But the grandma retorts with disagreements. Seemingly Johnny didn’t like arguing with the grandma. He respected her, despite being years older than her.

“I’ll eat to my hearts content then, granny.” Y/n smiles digging into the lovely kimchi and soup. It was warm, salty with the kimchi and it felt healthy. The rice she gave you was amazing too. It was a first time you had such a big meal in your life.

Johnny from afar would be observing the young girl with an aching feeling of regret, why did he get such a bad feeling from you? The fox bites on the beautiful print fan (in other words called the Shan.) in his palm flicking back and forth the beautiful night starry air, a complete difference from the horrible heatwave earlier. Johnny blooms to glare at the grandma who watched him with a warning gaze.

“Why was the soldiers chasing you exactly?” Johnny interrogated coming in closer to look at you, dropping the wooden curve spoon into the soul as you turned to realise Johnny was now closer to you, watching your face to see the reaction. Y/n clears her throat. “You could say i was forced into something and i refused.” You tell and the grandma lets out a soft sigh.

“What did the soldiers do now. They are the most corrupted people here aside the royalty.” The elderly spat .

Johnny scoffs. “What were you forced into?”

“I was told to sleep with a customer. He was quite rich and powerful in the place I worked out. I refused when he tried to strip my hanbok out and I ran. Then the guards were chasing me.” You shrug it off when the memory replays in your head , like a haunting dream ready to scar you for the rest of the life. Johnny hums. “So aren’t you going back home?” He throws impatiently, Johnny earned himself a slap behind the head from the grandma.

You drop your mouth a little without a sound leaving, looking away with a stammer. “I will but can you let me stay at least for two nights? I’m scared to go back so early. I doubt the soldiers will stop looking for me tomorrow.”

Johnny stares blankly thinking what to answer with, if it’s only two days then perhaps he could make an expectation on letting y/n stay; either way it is not like the old hag will let him push the young girl out this late at night back to the village when she has no family relations to anyone whatsoever. He isn’t that cruel, even though he is cold and quite a blunt person like a solid rock. He will never put a girl in danger unless crossed. Johnny stands up with a shrugging bounce to the shoulders made. “Only two nights. That’s all you are getting.” The fox warns.

You exclaim happily with grateful eyes, you bow your head in the ninety degree angle before lifting it to stand up holding Johnny’s hands with yours. He saw the way your face instantly lit up, glowing light and stars born in those so-familiar eyes. The way your smile was this dark gloop of fear and sadness overthinking your safety, cracking in to the familiar winsome grin. Her smile was like a sudden beam of sunlight illuminating the nightfall darkness outside. Outshining even the mightiest god of sun and light. Where did this feeling of comfort, warmth and familiarity come from you? When did he feel this amount of same kindness and compassion. The same facial expression, eyes smiling too; why was it you?

“Thank you so much, Johnny! I promise I won’t cause trouble. You’re a kind fox.” Y/n laughs a little with a soft echo in her voice. He blankly stares, body frozen like a statue standing still . Your touch melted him if he were ice. The man flinches away his hands from your hand grasp, retracting it back to his chest. He softly nods, quietly murmuring. “Whatever i’m not cruel enough to kick you out and even if i did do that, the old hag would curse me probably.” He points out eagerly at the elder woman who sent daggers to him. Y/n felt the way he was very closed off, almost as if he was scared to become close to you, but why? The girl tilts her head, the same warming gracious smile stays on her face . “I’m still grateful. Thank you.” You tell him with genuinely.

As shield of Earth the night is given upon celestial clock. Gates of heaven and hell soon open releasing endless spirits to wander the land amongst humans. Night deepens each forest brown to the hues that are my soul-song, animals coming out of hiding no longer afraid to reveal the longitude to Mother Nature. On this night the natural black hugs the stars as a mother would to a newborn child when born, the floating little rocks shining bright above the sleeping humans in the village and the wide awake fox resting on the porch next to the small rising lake and a ticking cat waving paw with a shrine and a picture. A cold night, a lucid moon, heaven's eyes shine in the black as divine watchful mother seems like the only thing that never changes to Johnny. Every decade passing he has witnessed many moons that look the same, lonely in the sky, bright as day. Stars coming and going whilst the icy breeze grows angrier.

Johnny could never sleep even if he tried to. Perhaps it was in his genes to not be able to grow fond of the dream land. Only once he could ever feel the symptoms of tiredness. Only once. The house becomes dastardly quiet whenever the mortals go hit the hay, but Johnny finds comfort in it as much as he finds pain in it. Why is it that the darkness covering the night time starts to make you reminisce on the deepest pit of your worries? He can’t ever escape it no matter how much he runs or tries to no longer think back on it, his heart always finds a way to entangle itself on the hauntingly image of his dead lover. Though gods punish him for ever losing a master— it is considered a crime and disgrace for the fox spirit community. Johnny fell from the social status but he does not care. Johnny fell harder when the image of his dead lover and master in his arms grew cold like the North Pole.

The room available for Y/n to use was the only room filled with women clothing and bedding. Quite a large room for one person as if it were a royalty bedroom made just for the finest of women alive. Y/n was born in a poor setting from the beginning, an orphan to be exact so coming across a room like this left you in a stumble, wondering if it was okay for you to even sleep down on the bed like a normal person. But somehow your heart ached seeing this setup. The clothes freshly washed and hang made you want to sob. The feelings of nostalgia hit like a tsunami emerging from the earth’s cracking ground. You couldn’t explain why, so you shrug it off and went to bed. But when you fell into your subconscious the same old routine came.

The same old nightmare chases you anywhere you stay reside in. The inner child version of you cried on days like this to yourself, holding knees to the chest, pinching the your forearms to remind yourself this was the reality and your nightmares were not. The eight year old you would of stayed up all night, becoming an insomniac; child you slept on the day and stayed awake in the night. Sixteen year old you would become numb and cold revisiting the nightmare every night, you bought sleep medicine hoping it might perhaps help you sleep easier, if any it made the dream worse a ten thousand fold. But now, you are twenty years old. A fully grown adult who has experience this long lived nightmare dream for over nineteen years without a single night of hopeful dreams.

Red. Everything ran red. Sharp pain hits the chest like a wooden stake to the heart was cutting your body open like a flat pillow stuff feathers, as if you were nothing but a lightweight rock stomped on. Blur voices and tears align, as did image of fire spreading like a running carriage filled with cattle’. - Female voice screaming dents you in fear as your body wrinkles in the bed, pushing off the duvet cover as well as blankets off, whimpers breathily intake the entire room.

In that moment, eyes snap open as the body jolts up. The young girl pushing back forth the straight long dark hair backwards, drenching with cold sweat along the forehead, dropping on the traditional dress you wore all day, Underneath the clothing were a pounding heart. Y/n looks around the room cautiously extremely paranoid, eyebrows raised to the roof as eyes wide like charcoals, mouths trembled out a sigh and the hands wrap themselves into an hug. Y/n embracing her own body as a self comfort to soothe the situation down, you make mini pinches on the forearms to check if this was the reality. Indeed it was when the small pain strikes you. “It was just a dream,” The girl said to oneself.

The sudden urge to quench the thirst from the dry closing throat, the young woman gets up on two legs leaving the room quietly. Y/n makes her way forward until stopping as the bright blue moonlight shining soon illuminates the man underneath it with one hunch leg, slouching against the wooden pillar to the traditional korean joseon house entrance. The man with the loose blue navy white hanbok, to his only company were a teapot set and white bolder like cups. She comes forward slowly, but stops when the man’s voice strikes her; he knew she was coming even if he has never look towards her direction. He was facing forward into the melancholy distance.

“Can’t sleep, Y/n?” Johnny utters with a husky tone catching the trembling you off guard. The girl purse her lips into a thin line and sits next to the fox spirit softly nodding out a hum. “How’d you know?” Y/n asks and the man turns to look at her.

He points out, like it were a factual reasoning. “Fox ears make it hard to block out noises.” Y/n’s lips open faltering out an ‘oh. Right.’

Silence took a left completely crashing the moment and both of you like a truck. Johnny seemingly found comfort in it but you on the other hand struggled to be quiet, multiple questions form a novel because you seem to want to know more about the man who looks both sadden and lonely when watching the moon ahead. You can’t put your finger on why and what it was causing Johnny to look that way. It draws you in however, as if he was a magnet.

You hush out when beginning to speak once again. “Why can’t you sleep?”

Johnny reaches to the half full cup bringing it to the plum pucker lips and sips the herbal tea. “Are you always this chatty, Y/n?” He grumpily throws.

Your lips seal together like an envelope. Knitting eyebrows forward at the shady comment he has made. He might not be interested in you as much as you are into him but despite the pushing your presence kept marching on. You’re determined to get to know Johnny as a person. Your round eyes squint at the fox. “No. Only when I want to be. Does that bother you?”

You gently ask and Johnny goes to agree. “In a matter of fact yes. Why do you keep talking to me?”

“I want to get to know you more.” Y/n replies. The reasoning were so simple for mortals but for Johnny it felt like cheating, cheating on his dead partner and master. Foxes don’t feel the urge to make friends with other mortals, not unless it were other fox spirits. He can feel the persistence from you, something that was familiar with mortals.

He grimly stress, gritting the canine teeth at you. “I am taken.” Johnny tells you. Y/n’s jawline cracks at the sudden words as you pause, putting your hands to your chest as you spoke, defensively.

“I don’t mean it like that!” Y/n scowls. Johnny scoffs mentally, sure you don’t. Mortals are such easy sinners and to fall in love, in no doubt are you interested in him romantically. Even if you’re not aware of it, Johnny knows you will in the end at the friendship.

“Oh please save me your sappy story. Humans are hopeless romantics it’s unbelievable. I cannot be your friend.” Johnny states.

“Fine, don’t be my friend. But at least make a conversation with me since we both can’t sleep.” You compromise in which the fox said nothing, you took it as a yes. The silence came back but soon broke when johnny finally speaks first, starting the chat. The man gave in to answer your question out of nowhere, catching you ultimately in a surprise.

Johnny sighs. “I don’t sleep. except once.”

“You didn’t sleep at all except one time?” You gawk loudly with a short hitch. Johnny nods putting the empty cup down. “Whoa. Here I thought I was the biggest insomniac.” Y/n impressively said back.

On the man’s face a charming smirk begins to paint clearly, he flashed you a mugging grin with one eyebrow raised, mischievous eyes glint at your doe-ish fluttering eyelashes.

“Why can’t you sleep then, miss insomniac number two.” He casually asked,

You shift not exactly expecting him to follow up with a question you never really spoke of to anyone before. The girl puts the straight hair behind the ears, blowing on your lips as you complement wether you should tell him at all. Johnny watches the uneasy expression you, as he looks away to the moon. “Forget I asked. I didn’t realise it was a touchy subject.” Johnny hollows with simple understanding putting you at slight ease, but then you didn’t want to exactly stop talking. You softly whisper.

“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable. I just don’t know how to explain it.” You start and Johnny listens well and keenly at your voice he surprisingly finds relaxing. The man turns to look back at you. “You see, I only dream the same reoccurring nightmare all my life. I never had a nice dream before. No one knows this before, you are the first one that have asked me why I can’t sleep.”

There was something so saddening about the way you have lived all along this time to Johnny, he couldn’t put into words why he seems to take minor pity but at the same time a protective approaching manner to want to keep you safe and at ease. What exactly was it about you that makes him so sensitive about the bad scenarios and things that could happen to you so easily and why does it piss him off? It’s been so long that someone else has made an effect on him. The fox shifts watching the way you spoke about your situation, with carefree patience and comfort. For someone who has suffered from the moment of being born into this deadly world era you take comfort in the pain you experienced and you find safety in it too. This is what makes you strong in Johnny eyes though. You aren’t afraid to be vulnerable or to be sensitive. You are like a tapestry, no matter where you are placed; rough or smooth pathway. You will always get through it.

“I wonder what it is like to not dream. For at least a night, I wish to just sleep.” You murmur openly and Johnny smiles at your words. “For someone who was born into nothing, you are pretty good of a human.”

Your lips curve upwards smiling back at the man, tilting your head as you brought your legs to the chest. “For someone who said they don’t want to be friends, you listen to me rambling. You’re a good fox.” You praise reaching with your palm, stroking the soft raven hair flatly. Johnny’s face grows a light orange reddish colour heating the cheeks, the fox ears flicker in an appreciative manner to the solely actions of your soft warm hands pressing and running through the hair to pet the man. Johnny’s eyes waver like the sea at shore backwards and forwards, lips pucker as they stare to question you. The praise lift his dead heart to beat again. Johnny embraces the nostalgia in the moment,

He swore he heard his dead master’s voice over yours just now. The way you praise him was in so many ways similar to the way his dead lover did so. Your hands felt identical and you both look like twins. Johnny felt tricked, oppressed into being met with you. But still, he felt uneasy if he was right about you.

“What are you doing, Y/n..!” He exclaims quickly as he jolts back, holding your wrist in his hands to pull you forward. The girl’s body stumbles back losing balance instantly, she fell over his lap, face forward inches away from Johnny’s lips and the chest pressing right on to his own. Johnny felt the lingering scent obsess the nostrils entirely. The fox ears capture your breathing hitch on halt, your heart thumping like his own right now and his body felt an electric strike setting a small ember inside. Both your faces were barely a gap away from pressing together, but what brought Johnny into a catastrophe was the way his eyes lean down to your glossy peachy lips wanting to take a taste of them. But he can’t. You aren’t his reincarnation he was looking for.

That’s what he thought until the left hanbok came loose falling on the side revealing a faded bite mark deeply inscribed into the woman’s body. She let out a shocking gasp as the bare nude shoulder and dainty collarbones block Astounding man’s view. He darkly and deemly seeks an answer, catching you by your shoulders now, he had you placed on the floor underneath him. The woman’s figure was pressed down into the wooden floor like a sliced wooden log, crushingly laying underneath the heavy weight from the fox straddling the body. Hands gripping y/n’s shoulders tight like the life depend on it. Johnny’s glaring eyes fixated on the scar you hid on your left shoulder all along. Memories coming into his head like a flood.

“Please reincarnate, Y/n. I will find you with this mark made by me.”

The flashback ends with your mortified face watching Johnny warily wondering why he was deathly staring at the old mark you never knew why you got it in the first place; you just had it from birth you suppose. He breaks out softly.

“How did you get this mark, Y/n.” Johnny commands with a look that killed you inside. You become silent all of the sudden, the courage to answer the man above you, keeping you trapped, it was scary to respond. Johnny only became aggravated by the shock, it felt almost surreal to him so all he felt was tricked. He couldn’t believe it was real. The paranoia inside Johnny made him so angry, he wondered if he was projecting the thirty five years searching for you all along onto you. When in reality, he’s crumbling. He’s a broken somebody. “How did you get this mark, Y/n!” He screams, hands shaking the woman’s body up and down before dropping her flat on the wooden floor.

The girl flinches closing her eyes, exclaiming in a scream back at the man. “I don’t know! I had it since I was born. You happy?” You grunt out when Johnny was overcame by his own silence. The man falls backwards, off your body as he rests flat, letting out a soft scoff. He finally found you. The five stages of grief was not enough for Johnny, he needed at least twenty stages of grief to cope with. You sit up pulling on your hanbok covering the left side. Johnny looks down hanging his head low.

Y/n slowly stands up rushing back inside the bedroom, closing the sliding door shut. Johnny was left in his own presence, wondering what he’s just witnessed. Surely, it couldn’t be you. But it was his bite mark, the exact same bite mark from the canine fox teeth. Johnny shakes his head in his hands, rubbing the eyelids heavily.

He sobs clenching his hands together. “It was you all along.”

What hurts the most is not the that it was you who was his longing lover’s reincarnation. What hurt Johnny was that even though he told himself so many times that he was ready to meet you, to see you, that he cannot wait another year searching for you only to be hit with a dead end. In reality he wasn’t ready to see you reincarnated. You were both different but similar at the same time in this reincarnation. Johnny couldn’t tell you that you’re his reincarnated lover, hell-, how will he explain that to you? It hurts that he wasn’t ready to accept the fact that you out of all people, cannot remember him. But he remembers you like it was yesterday.

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Morning arrives as a mother's gentle hand, inviting the dreams of night to enter the day. Golden threads of morning sunshine plants on Johnny’s face, scrunching in many wrinkles in irritation. The nine tailed fox sat up half asleep and half awake, rubbing the eyelids to fully open them in a clear view, the man let out a soft yawn. The grandma came into sight immediately, jump scaring Johnny literally to fall backwards, hitting the wooden pillar unexpectedly. He forgot he slept on the floor at the entrance like a guarding dog.

“Ow! Old hag did you have to be so close to me when i open up.” Johnny complained forward as he points at the old woman who glares clicking her tongue. “You drank the entire fermented alcohol. Do you know how expensive this is? Darn it Johnny. “ the grandma scolds like a family member would to another. Johnny let’s out a soft nod. “I’ll just get another one easily. Relax.” He adds before standing up walking to the porch where he watches the distance. Village happens to be wide awake in the acute shining sunshine, this time it was the right amount of heat and breeze. In the distance caught Johnny’s eyes to manoeuvre to the direction of a girl wearing familiar expensive silk dress.

He gapes at the sight rushing towards the young girl with long black straight hair and fair skin, back turned on him he couldn’t see her face but when he approached the girl who was gardening in the forest, hunch on the knees. Johnny stops pulling a hand by the shoulders turning the girl to face him, he were met with Y/n. The same pondering expression on Johnny’s face overloads Y/n’s foresight, she blinks uncomfortably, feeling terrified as last night was quite scary. Johnny this time felt more calm and compressed, but he was left stunned. It was only just you wearing his master’s and lover’s clothing because you couldn’t of kept the dirty ones on— but when you wore them, you look spitting image of her. Johnny shakily release the top of his hand from your left shoulder, looking away he clears his throat. “Sorry. You looked like someone I knew.”

Johnny backs away and you nod softly without saying much. Only new questions were born upon old questions you needed answers to when you were with Johnny alone. It’s draining for your overthinking physically and mentally.

The situation dynamic has shifted from last night and it made you self conscious about it. Previously in the day when Johnny and Y/n met for the first time he wasn’t interested in you, in fact he was shooing you every opportunity he had with you alone. You were the one chasing. But now that you stopped chasing after last night’s incident because you were scared of what he was doing . Johnny became the chaser at the end. He keeps thinking of you as his master and servant when in reality you aren’t her exactly; you were her in your previous life. But not anymore and Johnny cannot grasp the concept. It’s like seeing the same people with different alter egos. The similarities kill him however, every similar thing you do was the exact thing you did in your past life. Johnny was only more deluded by these things.

You sigh openly as you begin to softly pat the soil into the seed hole you planted forming a small oversized flat soil ground to keep it the seed to grow and securely stay. “Why are you still here?” Y/n asks, quite bluntly this time.

Johnny shifts on the side with a surprise flinch, rubbing the behind of his head. Why did he feel so little when he was with you? Perhaps the stern voice you’re using on him makes him think even more of you as his master. As his one and only sole priority. Johnny stammers. “I’m just… watching you. You got a problem?” He throws back.

You clench your jaw together. “Maybe. You are suddenly really clingy to me. Yesterday you weren’t.”

‘Yeah but yesterday I didn’t know you were her…’ Johnny would thought.

It’s true. He completely changed overnight. He was more caring with you, more considerate. Not once did he make a kick out joke, it’s as if he wants you to stay here permanently. Johnny would’ve usually glare at you with his resting apathetic face, but now he looks at you with beaming relief eyes with happiness and warm love at the same time. It was weird, to see him smile at you and speak to you without needing to put any effort like you once did. You wonder, what changed him?

Ever since he saw that mark on yours on the shoulder, it was like a switch in him flipped.

“Y/n. Do you believe in reincarnation?” Johnny softly asks on the side as you dig up the soil with your hands. You stop when the man held your hands together softly where he positions your hands to his direction, the hem of your hanbok sleeves were about to get dirty if you continued gardening that way. Johnny rolls the pink sleeves up, you watch his attentive gaze and actions before he lifts his eyes from the done sleeve and looked at you.

You softly shrug. “Maybe. Im not sure, i used to believe spirits weren’t real. But here I am speaking to a fox spirit.” You lightly said going back to gardening, digging up the hole with your hands. Johnny smiles watching you. The fact that maybe means a lot to him. He’s whipped for you.

“It’s true. Reincarnation can happen.” Johnny urges and you open your lips in slight waver. “How exactly does reincarnation work? Why do people get reincarnated.”

The whole process of reincarnation is an iffy one to explain because it is quite a complex thing to do and to understand. Johnny himself wasn’t quite sure at first when he were a small cub. The underworld god, Hades, controls the living who have died (therefore he chooses if they reincarnate or not.) Johnny met Hades once, after his past lover and master died with the arrow to the heart her soul was taken by a boat crossing the lake into the underworld. Johnny did anything and begged the grim reapers (workers for hades) to take him to see your past life self once again. To which the grim reapers agree only for a few seconds he could see her. In reality Johnny could not restrain himself and he pleads to Hades to let her reincarnate no matter what.

To be able to reincarnate in the next life once you die, you have to have a balance between karma and the sins you have gained. It would be a better task if you didn’t sin at all, the more likely you are to reincarnate. But since it was his master who has died, aimlessly Hades took it as a shameful dead for a fox master to die so tragedy. It took fifteen years to reincarnate you. Johnny Thirty five years overall searching for you. He met you in your new reincarnation form where you are twenty. Johnny definitely got lucky though, some reincarnation can put you into a whole another gender and appearance, same gender and a different appearance or perhaps an animal even. But he knew hades would reincarnate you as a human. He just didn’t know what gender you were going to be. But no matter what gender you would be, Johnny will love and serve you, his feelings would not change.

“People get reincarnate into their next life because it was either to pay the karmic debts which will make them learn a lesson for hard life. Or… someone has begged the underworld god for you to be reincarnated again.” Johnny explained. “You see, I’m waiting for someone to be reincarnated.” He told and you look up at him, pondering. “My master and lover. She died and I’m searching for her.”

You stop whatever you’re doing as you slowly lean backwards resting on a large boulder rock. Johnny watches you with ease, as he is quite tall. The man witnessed your soft hair blowing past the breeze, reveal your neck and the beautiful pink and white hanbok, your hair lightly styled with help of granny in the house. Johnny’s feelings for you only increased, you were a spitting image of her.

She teasingly adds. “So you’re not taken but you’re waiting for her.”

Johnny pouts dropping his keen expression earlier. He turns his head away, crossing arms. “I am taken. Even if she is not here, I am not single.” He points out and you click your lips together forming a snickering grin. “Oh you must really love her Hm? Loyal like a dog to a bone.” He heard you state and his ears flicker to your voice he so loves hearing.

“Foxes can only love one person. Romantic is it not?”The fox remarks catching the young girl by the question as she approaches him where he stayed resting underneath a tree.

“I find it sad.” Y/n dryly said with a gloomy sigh. The young woman could only imagine in her head like a novelty poem, if her lover was left behind waiting for her to be reborn, it would make her sad to think that someone so devoted has spend their entire life searching eagerly. Johnny felt his hand subconsciously moving to embrace Y/n but he stops himself, restricting on being physical with you; you don’t remember him. As much as he remembers you.

“Sad? How come Y/n.” Johnny spoke after a moment of self reflection, holding out on the body. You walk around freely by the forest entrance, as the man behind you follows slowly, like a duckling following a mother duck.

Y/n sympathetically trails with a voice resembling the waves from the ocean, emerging and submerging anything in its way. Johnny felt like he becomes stuck when surrounding by you, as if he were choking on your unpredictable words . Johnny never felt entitled to make you sad. But he made an unbreakable promise to you. “If I were the one to be reincarnated. I wouldn’t want my lover to wait for forever. I feel like that would pain me to think, so many years go by and my lover was there letting life go by until I was found.”

“It sorta made me sad putting myself in his shoes.” You add finally, turning on your heels to watch Johnny from who was behind following you. He stops on the tracks as he was met with a soft smile, shunned him like a running horse crashing into him to fall on the ground helplessly. He hotly smiles. “You’re far too kind for this world, Y/n. But do not worry. I don’t plan on waiting much longer, I’m sure she’s out there somewhere.” Johnny carefully sways as he held out Y/n’s hands.

The moment came short lived but the young woman felt the warmth from the hands erect in her skin, casually wanting you the coldness to dissipate. Heartbeat skipped a beat when the charming fox did not break eye contact, as much as you wished to break it yourself you couldn’t do it. Johnny was far too quick to break the silence, as he casually and slyly comments into the light breezy air. “I heard there is a lunar festival going on right now. Do you want to go there with me?”

‘He’s asking me to go somewhere with him…’ you thought. Y/n wasn’t sure what this feeling of a sparkling connection between you was but, you surely felt like you knew this man for a long time even though you only met him yesterday. The young girl softly nods with a soft cheerful smile in response.

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The festival was our collective soul in song, music and dance. It was the colours of our brightest joys and what weaved us together. To people this specific celebration was to honour the living into the next year, it was like a happy warm get to together in the village. Chatting voices and music play on repeat making it unable to hear a single voice from afar, the pleasantly music runs into peoples eardrums causing many to dance together. Walking by the market stands in a line where it was much more safer and comfortable, it was talkative and the music from distance could be heard at a tolerable safety. No one was dancing on this side of festival making it more or less cramping. The villagers dress up into flamboyant prints and masks. The market stands were a variety to chose from.

Johnny would notice Y/n running towards one stand in particular catching the girl’s enlarge curiosity, the moment she stops, Johnny runs to follow up to her. They stand in between a food stand that welcomes the customers through a strong sweet syrup smell and cinnamon. The fox leers closer when seeing the child-like excited expression on you, it was like this was the candy store making you look so giddy.

The woman at the stand beams forward at the girl and the man. “Oho would you like some dango?” Johnny gives a short nod. “Yes one for the young girl here.”

Y/n wows when the woman pulls away joining the behind as she takes out one of the warmly coated pink green and white dango on the stick; the brown warm syrup leaking down until it was swirl back up. Y/n grabs the dango, jumping up and down. Johnny bows his head as he paid a gold coin, soon following you when you disappeared to walk forward on your own.

You pull one dango in your mouth, blowing on it in your mouth as it was far too hot with the syrup, but it was awfully sweet and addicting. You smile happily chewing on the sweet snack. “Do you want to try, Johnny?” You’d ask catching the fox on the side staring right at you in awe.

‘She still has the sweet tooth.’ Johnny thought endlessly before you pulled him by the question to reality.

“I’m not really a fan of sweet things.” Johnny mentions and you pout stopping in your tracks as Johnny walks a few inches in front as well stopping when he noticed you no longer walking side by side. He turns to you tucking hands on the front hips. He wore a black traditional hanbok, carrying the sword sheathed on the right side to the gear attach and his loose hair slightly wet as he showered for this event. You wore a white sparkle hanbok shining underneath the moonlight in the black sky, hair tucked into a curl-like high bun and hair jewellery attached. You stopped with a sulking gesture when he refused, puffing out your rosey cheeks and your eyes watching him with displeasure. Johnny let’s out a small sigh coming forward to you with his giant-like height he leans down halfway biting into the stick. He took the middle dango gritting with the fox-canine teeth and pulls backwards no longer leaning down.

He chews on the hot dango and you smile instantly, he caught you off guard when he watched you as he bit on the dango and ate it, somehow the intense gaze made your heart thump again. Y/n felt her cheeks become flushed the more she thought about her heart pouncing like a wildebeest. She clears her throat when Johnny mentions, “Too sweet.”

“Do you prefer savour foods more?” You ask back as you continue to walk side by side and the man calmly remarks back. “I prefer meat to be honest. It’s not wether sweet or salty. I just like something hearty and full.”

“Ahh I see. Then let’s go here!” Y/n suddenly exclaims grabbing onto Johnny’s hands as she pulls the six foot man with her to another stand. This time it was a man grilling meat on sticks. Different types of meat. You saw the man’s expression widen like a temple opening, mouth dropping quick in awe as he eyes the meat viciously in hunger. The man chuckles pointing out, “alright young man it’s not going to run away.” He teased.

You chuckle as Johnny practically stomps on his feet cutely. You could only imagine him wagging all the nine tails in unison and the ears prickle with excitement if he had them on. You point at the long stick with the excessive meat in.

“One of this please sir.” You politely gesture. The man nods with a smile as he pulls the stick towards the man. Johnny puts on a gold coin for the man. “Have a nice day couple!” He cheers and you jump at the words when leaving, about to reject the idea to stop forth from confusing the market stand owner, Johnny wraps an arm around your shoulders lightly, as he noms on the meat graciously.

He cannot remember when it was the last time he had a taste of beautiful soft and tender meat cooked to perfection. The granny back at the house only makes kimchi upon kimchi. Johnny swore if he saw another vegetable he might lose it and go savage like back in the days when he did not have a human form. Johnny looks over to the beautiful girl residing him, as he puts the stick to the girl.

“Here take a bite.” He encourages as you stop and look at the meat on the stick. When you lean down to take a full bite of one, you chew on and hum satisfied when he waited patiently for your response if you’d like it or hate it. Johnny felt a relief of happiness and love rush in when you said it was good.

You smile watching the full moon ahead, sighing happily. “The moons beautiful tonight.” Johnny looks at you as he hums softly. “It is isn’t it.”

You turn to look at him but Johnny looks away clearing his voice . The man walks ahead as you smirk, was he watching you? The playfulness enrages more when you comply forward, Teasing the fox with both, joking manner and a little hint of flirting.

“I saw you looking at me over there.” You point out and Johnny scoffs. “I was watching the moon whaddya’ mean?”

You smile watching the grumpy expression on the man and you couldn’t help but chuckle. He’s so cute and see through, you can read right through him and you don’t know why. The connection between you was only growing stronger and stronger, it’s as if you knew him for so long. Johnny stops suddenly when he turns to the left, you pause stopping but the man turns to you urgently.

“Stay here. I’ll come back. Wait here.” He quickly said as he rushes away out of your sight. You stand there blankly as you turn around, pursing your lips into a thin line.

‘What could he be doing right now?’ You thought impatiently.

Your impatient cuts short when Johnny comes back calmly you unlock your arms that were together crossed and Johnny reaches for your hands with a short smile. “Here I thought this could help you.” He states when he reopened your hands the gift he had bought for you makes your body melt from the considerate loving gift he rushed to get you instantly. It’s the fact that you were on his mind, that makes you blush like a young teenage girl.

You look up exclaiming with a soft awh leaving the lips. “It’s a dream catcher!” You shout and he nods happily.

“This way you can sleep at night with good dreams only” Johnny told you with an abrupt smile. Y/n looks at Johnny before embracing the man tight. The warm embrace of your smaller arms against his wrapping the body like this cloud over the moon. Your hug has woven our souls in a way that is a forever bond. Johnny gets filled with hopes, only his love grew more for you and the hug has proven its feeling aloud. The man wraps arms around you back, slowly and carefully to not squeeze too tight. You pull away with the upmost happiest beautiful smile. Johnny never knew until now how much he loves your happy expression and smiles, he wants you to only smile and be happy forever.

“Thank you Johnny.” You say with gratitude and he shakes his head. “It’s nothing don’t worry.”

“Let’s go somewhere quiet, fireworks will start soon.” He beams now remembering the time and Y/n would soon be dragged with a hand intertwining with hers, pulling the girl with a short run to the unknown place where the fox is taking her to.

The grass beneath the shoes felt alive as it were waving forth motions on the nightfall cold breeze intergalactically perusing on the two who rest on the mountain edge hill perfect to sight see all the fireworks shot with an arrow forward the more they wait the anticipation rose and Y/n let’s out a soft sigh of content.

You were never this happy before. Perhaps you’re at your happiest when embraced by the friend next to you. But can you even call him a friend when you have these indescribable feelings for a man who is waiting for his dead lover to reincarnate? You could only hope it was you to be reincarnate. Johnny sways forward as he points out with eyes sparkling.

“It’s starting.” Johnny said to you as you turned your head to the front watching the beaming loud fireworks sparkling in the night as they combust and explode. Your face lights up at each explosion in the sky leading with many colours escaping above the both of you. Johnny couldn’t help but watch your intensive face on the side, admiring you at a close distance.

You’re just like you were before he first met you. Johnny took you to the same festival a long time ago. You had the biggest sweet tooth, you begged and pleaded him to try the candy floss and once he did Johnny was hit with exact the flavour he despised but even though he hated it so much, he was glad he could make you happy and you were smiling exactly like that then. He took you to see the stars because back then fireworks weren’t a thing, as you were stargazing Johnny took the courageous movement to kiss you softly as the stars were shining above and a shooting star fell. She wore different clothes. Different hair. Different makeup. But you look the same in his eyes when you watch the fireworks unable to look away, Johnny felt the sudden urge to kiss you just like he had then.

Following the instincts inside Johnny raging to do it right now, when he had moved his face closer you were quick to turn around and he paused a moment, inches barely from capturing your lips, the heavy warm breathing escaping the fox’s mouth left your heart beating suddenly again as you felt it in your throat. You gulp thickly thinking why did he stop suddenly? You really wanted him to kiss you right now. But it was as if the man was scared, scared to kiss you wondering if you’d reject him. Your hands latch on to Johnny’s hanbok collar suddenly causing the fox to jolt forward when you pull him with ease, the gap closes thanks to your bravery, you crashed your lips on his and Johnny swore he melts by the sudden confidence you had and he had not. He didn’t remember your past life ever being this confident, in fact she was quite mysterious and timid. But in this life time, you are confident and a Ray of sunshine easily going and content. You are also wise and compassionate, something you will always have no matter how many times you’re going to be reborn.

You took a control for a while until Johnny recovered where he suddenly puts a hand behind your head deepening the kiss until the way his tongue slips inside with almighty merciless strength, he had your tongue beneath him as he was exploring inside and out leaving no space unattended. Fox canine fangs were rubbing on the bottom lip making a soft ragged breathing come out, he heard loud and clear making him feel some type of way, with you loudly breathing it was a way for him to see you were enjoying yourself as much as he was too, as you did something flash in your eyes even when you had then closed a small taint memory came across your head, a woman identical to you wearing different hanbok with a familiar man next to her . Johnny shortly pulls away when noticing the way you struggle to keep in oxygen and you blush heavily as did he. The tan skin he has with a deep reddish colour as you had a light pink spreading fast like a disease on your skin.

He pulls away but rests forehead together, keeping the hand on your head from behind that left you comforted. Your eyes flutter open at the same time, he was met with your trembling oversized pupils dilating as you face the hungry lustful eyes with love rushing to the surface. Your mind wonders back to the flashback of an unknown memory you had unlocked with the kiss.

You stammer softly in which Johnny found endearing and cute. “I…I’m sorry i forgot you were taken.” You deeply said with regret. Your eyes depressingly linger down on the ground, watching the grass as you were unable to face Johnny. He probably holds this against you, your feelings against you. Little did you know Johnny was reaching forward to hold your face to face him directly, your eyes connecting once again.

“I’ve been waiting for you. Searching for you.” Johnny earnestly states with such loving words coming to your realisation it’s you who he has been looking for all along. He came back to you, to reclaim what he loves and belongs to him as much as he belongs to you. The master he’s patiently devoted his life and will never regret doing so. Y/n shakily places the cold hands over his, softly chuckling with teary eyes forming. It makes you sad to think that you made this man you love in both lives wait for you but now you’re not going to do so.

“I’ve been here all along.” You respond well reconnecting the soft lips on to yours, lovingly kissing the man first as a tear or two ran down your cheeks.

────⊱──────⊰✯⊱──────⊰────

Love spread across the wooden flooring of the traditional house. Everything reeks of sex and sweat though it comforts the two in their own stuck reality they have created. Two bodies launching together as one. It was like the perfect combination made, a lock to a key that fits perfectly and only the only perfect fit. Hanboks scattering on the floor as the woman’s bedroom aches at the weight forced. Y/n was on all fours arching at the front pillow, with one arm covering the mouth as it become endangered to let the escaping mellow moans out to attract attention, the fox thrusting behind had little to no intention on becoming slow and softer— those thirty five years pent up waiting for his lover to reincarnate he now has her underneath him where he’s going to show exactly how much he has missed his master. His mistress. His owner. The sole devotion he will serve.

The skin to skin contact brought back old memories as well as new memories being born. Johnny himself felt ascended into heaven with happiness he couldn’t hold back even as much as you told him to, he cannot do that. He can’t bring himself to calm down. The thrusts were irregular and messy, hitting all sorts of places inside you that yourself never knew you could hit. Being a virgin as well, the situation was not ideal but the way he expressed it was. You knew how much you kept him waiting, you wouldn’t want your virginity to be taken by anyone else but Johnny. Your servant. Your lover. The man you’ll love in your present past and future.

He held your stomach underneath with a flat palm, bringing you closer where the lustful fox completely indulgent into giving everything begins to scrape his mouth over the bite mark on the left shoulder. You hum softly as he kissed your jawline then the neckline and then softly plants a longing wet kiss onto the mark on the shoulder. “I’m glad you have the mark still.” He huskily said as you carefully trail. “Please give me a new one.” You engrave a demand that he could no longer refuse as Johnny smirks above a clean freshly skin on the right side, within a minute a long grazing sharp impact breaks your skin cracking it as he bites you. Your lover pressing on your back to lower down and fall face front to the pillow.

The pain dents you open with pleasure, as the sadistic fox pulls away licking it clean in satisfying manner before he proudly pounds open the soaking pussy of yours beneath him. He whispers sweet nothings such as ‘I missed you so much you had no idea.’ Or ‘I will not leave your sight at all.’ Some where incompetent groans that left your ears ringing on repeat.

With a hair pull you tug on your face front as he captures you on your lips softly, a complete contract to the way he let go off everything becoming a salvage animal. The sophisticated Johnny who was gentle and soft has disappeared but a small shadowing hint told you he was still there when he gave you this soft loving kiss on your lips, as he slows down with his cock twitching inside you, you came to a conclusion he was close to climax.

He was so focused on making you come earlier he completely forgot about his own release. Johnny was way too focused on you, on making you feel pleasure rather than himself and it’s always been that way; he wants to make you feel satisfied and experience it first because he can always wait. You are his priority. When he has released in you letting out a soft moan enough to break the kiss between you, you sigh of relief and at the warm liquid filling you full.

Johnny whispers in the air. “I love you, Y/n. I want to marry you.” His words came off as a surprise, a pleasant one. You turn around as he lingers above you weakly, caressing your face as he wraps both into the warm duvet covers. Pulling you into a small spoon in his chest where your face buried itself. You smile unconsciously pulling the man closer by his own waist too. “I love you too Johnny. You sure you want to marry me though?”

You’d ask as lifting your head meeting his eyes you raise your eyebrows jokingly and teasingly. “I thought you were taken.” Y/n spat out and Johnny couldn’t help but blush unbelievably.

“Yeah by you.” He points out with a soft stutter. You smirk kissing his forehead lovingly before brushing back the long black hair. “Okay let’s get married then. When?” You question and Johnny hums out.

“Next week?” He said back.

“This week.” You state back with a smile.

Johnny grins squeezing you into the embrace tighter. He definitely will never let go until morning, maybe he won’t ever let you go from this embrace with the intentions. “Tomorrow!” He finalised and you chuckle.

“Tomorrow then.” You softly say. “I love you, kind fox.”

“I love you, y/n.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! Reblog this fic and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out <3

#nct fanfiction #nct smut #nct x reader #nct u scenarios #nct series #nct hard hours #johnny smut #nct johnny smut #johnny nct #johnny fluff #johnny angst #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fanfic #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct fic #nct recs

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dreamescapeswriting · 2 years

Text

Stray Kids Reaction || You’re Insecure About Stretchmarks [Request]

⤜MASTERLIST

SKZ X GN!Reader

A/N: As someone who has a lot of stretch marks I had a nice time writing this, imaging what I would want someone to say to me if they saw mine

CHAN:

Chan wasn't stupid so when he first saw you not wanting to show off your thighs he wanted to find out why without hurting your feelings. It was summer which meant it was hotter than ever in Seoul and you kept wearing jeans that covered up every inch of your legs.

"Babe?" You glanced up from your sketchpad to see Chan watching you. It was a particularly hot day and all of the boys had decided to go to a private pool, bringing along their partners. Your eyes locked with your boyfriend who looked better than ever on a day like today. Wearing a sleeveless shirt and some swimming trunks while you were curled up on a sun lounger wearing jeans and a shirt. You were doing your best not to let onto the fact that you were sweating buckets.

"Do you wanna get in?" You smiled weakly at Chan as you stared at the water. You knew you would cool down so much easier if you just got into the water but you couldn't.

"I didn't bring anything to change into." You tried to seem disappointed so it didn't look as though you really didn't want to be in the water.

"You can borrow something of mine," Felix called out before diving into the pool but you just stared down at your sketchpad. If you were to go into the water Chan, along with everybody else, were going to see the stretch marks you so desperately try to hide all of the time.

Chan was already by your side by the time you looked up again and he smiled weakly at you. His large hands reached out and rubbed your shoulder softly,

"It's okay. You don't have to be scared around us." Your eyes locked with his as you stared at him.

"I can't...C-Chan I can't." Was all you seemed to be able to muster the courage to say. Some people might have found it stupid crying over something such as stretch marks but you couldn't help it. Ever since you'd had them people had made a passing judgement or rude comments about them and you decided never to show them to anyone again.

"What's wrong?" Chan sank down onto the chair beside you, his hands rubbing your thighs softly. Without even knowing it he was touching where you were mostly insecure about,

"I have stretch marks..." Chan stared at you, waiting for you to continue but you didn't.

"Just stretch marks? Baby...That's-" He let out a small breathy nervous chuckle, he didn't want you to think he was laughing at you.

"That's natural...Everybody has stretch marks. I know that won't make you feel less insecure but...It's something that everyone is used to seeing." You blinked at him still unsure about it all so he moved to sit beside you.

"I promise, no one will be looking at them...You can even stay huddled into me in the pool if you like." He smirked at you as you bit down on your lip, it would be nice to just get into some cool water.

"I don't have anything to get in the pool with though..." You reminded him as he looked over at each of the members and their partners.

"I'm sure we can find something for you to wear." He smiled pressing some smaller kisses against your forehead and proudly getting up. Chan was over the moon that you were going to get into the pool despite being scared and he was going to do everything he could to make you feel better about your stretch marks.

MINHO:

You and Minho had done this a million times before and were sure to do this a million times more in the future. Your lips were moving together in harmony as you pulled at one another's clothing. Minho's shirt was the first to go quickly followed by his shorts but his hands began to move to your shirt and his lips never eased on yours. Both of you kissed as if the world depended on it. As though the world was going to fall apart if you didn't keep making out with one another.

"M-Minho," You whispered breathlessly as your foreheads touched one another, your chests rising and falling heavily as he looked back at you,

"What's the matter?" His eyes filled with concern as he looked at you, this was the first time either of you had removed this much clothing from one another. While Minho was left in nothing but his underwear you were still fully clothed and trembling a little.

"Did I do something wrong?" He panicked a little when he noticed how terrified you seemed to be,

"No...N-No I just-" You took in a deep breath as you looked at him. It was going to have to come out sooner or later and you knew Minho was never going to judge you for who you were and what was natural on your body. But there was still some part of you deep down that was scared he would run at the sight of your stretch marks across your stomach.

"I have stretch marks on my stomach...They...They just make me insecure." You smiled weakly as you looked down at your shirt, slowly pulling it up and over your head. Immediately Minho's eyes locked with your body, taking in every inch of you as quickly as he could in case you would hide away from him. You were so beautiful in his eyes, nothing on the planet was ever going to change that,

"You're breathtaking," He whispered as he placed a small kiss on one cheek, moving to the next as he whispered it in your ear again and again.

"M-Minho," You whined at him, locking your arms around the back of his neck as he brought you closer to him. Minho's fingers slowly traced down your skin as his fingertips lightly breezed over the stretch marks you had spent most of your life insecure about and he looked at you.

"What's that saying?" He questioned, raising his eyebrows at you as you whined at him. The same saying you had seen for years all over the internet,

"A tiger has earnt their stripes," He chuckled kissing your deeply as you shook your head at him, doing your best not to laugh against his lips as he laid you down beneath him. He pulls away from you, taking your hand into his and slowly leading it down to the scar he had on his stomach from his surgery as a kid.

"Sometimes I'm insecure too, but it's okay...We're around someone we love and feel no judgement with." He reminded you as your hands slowly traced the scar gently tickling it as he smiled down at you.

CHANGBIN:

In Changbin's defence, this was his first time staying over at your apartment and he had no idea where anything was. When he hopped out of the shower in search of some new shower gel he hadn't meant to stumble across your collection of stretch mark products. Changbin knew you had stretch marks but he had no idea you were this content with trying to rid them from your body.

"Are you trying to get my water bill sky high?" You laughed sarcastically as you walked into the bathroom, your body freezing as you saw your boyfriend staring into your bathroom cabinet.

"I was looking for shower gel." He answered before you could even ask what it was he was doing,

"It's in the drawer beside the toilet...Changbin-"

"I didn't know they made you this insecure." He cut you off, the shower still running that was still running was quickly dismissed as his eyes locked with yours. When you'd first spoken about your stretchmarks with Changbin you hadn't let onto the fact that you were highly insecure about them.

"I-I hate them." You managed to stutter out as Changbin smiled weakly, he knew that there wasn't going to be a single thing he could say to change your mind but they were a natural body occurrence.

"It happens to everyone baby," He reassured you as he brought you into his arms, neither of you cared that he was soaking wet and you were fully clothed. It felt nice to have his arms around your body as he kept your press against him, making you feel as though all was right in the world.

"They happen when a person loses or gains weight, they even happen to those who have kids because it's a sign that we're all human," You looked up at him as he looked down at you, his left hand holding your cheek gently while his thumb rubbed against your soft skin. A small and gentle touch that made you melt against him as he smiled down at you,

"It's when the skin stretches or even genetics, they make you who you are and you don't need to hide them or be scared of what people think when they see them," You stared at him, eyes tearing up a little as he looked down at you with complete love in your eyes. Changbin never made you feel as though you had to hide in front of him, you always showed him your stretch marks but you knew there were some people out there that did judge you for what they saw.

"You're cute when you're trying to comfort me," You told him as you stood up on your tiptoes, placing a small kiss against his lips as he smiled happily at you.

"Shower with me? I'll kiss every stretch mark I see and remind you of how beautiful I find you." The offer was tempting but you were cooking food for the two of you so you kissed him, pushing him back into the shower.

"Food will be ready soon," You smirked heading out of the bathroom and leaving him whining after you.

HYUNJIN:

For weeks Hyunjin had been locking himself away in his painting room whenever he had the chance to and you were scared it was because of something you had done. The two of you had been intimate with one another when you admitted that you were insecure about the stretch marks that you had on your body.

"Is he here?" You questioned as Chan looked up from his laptop, he'd been working in the living room when you entered the dorms,

"In his studio." He gestured over at the door and you felt your stomach drop, you wanted to spend time with Hyunjin but you didn't want to intrude on the time that he spent inside of that room. You knew it was the one place he felt completely at peace.

"I'll come back another time-" You turned to leave when the door to Hyunjin's painting room opened and he was rushing out of it.

"Wait! Yn!" Hyunjin cried out suddenly as he opened the door, he was already about to text toy and ask you to come over and he smiled at you. It had been too long since you'd seen him smile this way and you felt your whole body ached for him to hold you. You'd missed him far too much,

"You're busy, I can-" You couldn't finish your sentence as he pulled you close, suddenly covering your eyes and beginning to lead you through to his room.

"What are you doing?" You laughed, holding his hands on top of your eyes as you tried to focus on not falling over.

"I wanted to do something for you," He whispered as he kicked the door shut behind you both, his hands still covering your eyes as he smiled brightly at himself.

"You told me something deep and I wanted to do something for you." You frowned a little as he spoke,

"I wanted to show you how beautiful I find you, every inch of your body." Your frown only began to deepen as he continued to speak, Hyunjin chuckled slowly letting go of you. Your eyes squinted as you tried to get used to the brighter light inside of the room and then you saw them. A whole collection of canvases and pages from a sketchbook covered in stretch mark paintings.

You could already tell that it was your body he had been painting from memory, each of your stretch marks coloured in gold or brighter and darker colours.

"What-"

"I wanted to show you how beautiful I find you, so many paintings and drawings are done without our insecurities and I wanted to prove to you that no matter what you're still beautiful to me." You stared at each of the paintings, your mouth falling open a little as you turned back at him.

"Hyunjin...You didn't have to-"

"I want you to know how gorgeous I find you." He whispered, wrapping his arms around you and looking at the work he'd been doing.

"You're insane." You whispered a little, looking at them all before turning in his arms to face him,

"Insanely in love," He chuckled as you kissed him softly, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

JISUNG:

You detested the fact that the boys always put things up on such high shelves within their dorms, you figured they would at least put them lower for you and Changbin to reach.

"Stupid," You grumbled as you began to reach up higher for the mugs that were on the top shelf of the cupboard, without realising it your shirt was rising up higher and higher and Jisung was staring at you. His eyes take in the very sight of you without you hiding from him.

The two of you had been intimate with one another but for some reason you would never want to take off your shirt, always making excuses or just never taking it off. Jisung never wanted to be the one to push you so he never mentioned it but now he could see why you hid. Not that the stretch marks you had were anything to be ashamed of or insecure about. He just wished you would have told him that this was the reason you hid your body from him.

"Want some help?" He spoke out as you let out a small and surprised scream, quickly shoving down the ends of your shirt and looking down at the floor.

"Sure...C-Can you get me five mugs, I was going to make us all some drinks." You stumbled over your words, you hoped he hadn't seen them but Jisung trapped your body between his and the counter to prevent you from going anywhere. The whole room felt as though it was suddenly 100 degrees and he looked down at you, letting out a soft sigh.

"You don't have to hide them from me," He whispered as his hands moved to your shirt not moving it but just keeping himself close to you.

"Jisung-"

"They're nothing to be ashamed about, they're stretch marks," You could barely bring yourself to look at him but you did it anyway, your heart hammering rapidly against your chest as you stared at him.

"They're ugly-" You tried to say but he'd already kissed your lips softly to stop the word from falling from your lips.

"Blasphemy." He whispered as he shook his head at you, there was nothing on this planet or the next that could make your body ugly.

"They are a natural occurrence on a body, it's something that almost everybody gets at some point in their life." He spoke so sure of it and you smiled weakly, you desperately wanted not to be insecure about your mark but it was hard not to. People you had been with in the past had been rude about them.

"You don't have to hide them," He whispered as he brought you out of your thoughts, his fingers running against your skin under your shirt as your breath caught in your throat.

"You're still beautiful o me no matter what."

"Even if I turned into a worm?" You teased trying to switch subjects, Jisung let out a laugh and moved you closer

"Even if you were a worm." He promised, placing a soft kiss against your lips as he thought about how he was going to make you see the truth.

FELIX:

From the start of your relationship, Felix knew what your insecurities were and you knew what insecurities were too. The two of you were very open with one another from the beginning of your relationship but that didn't mean it still didn't make you swoon whenever you were in bed with Felix and he would spend the time kissing your stretch marks. Reminding you after every kiss how beautiful he found you after each kiss against your skin.

"Stunning," He mumbled as his lips moved from your thighs and toward your stomach, when Felix said he would kiss each mark he truly meant it. Going from your thighs, to your stomach and to your arms whenever he had the chance to do so.

"You know you don't have to do this," You whined a little as you felt his soft lips touch your stomach, his fingers that were holding your hips rubbing small circles against your skin. Each and every touch you shared felt more romantic and filled with love than the previous one. Felix never wanted you to be insecure about your body and if it meant spending every second of his life proving to you how beautiful you were then he was going to do just that.

"I want to." He looked up at you as you felt your entire body beginning to heat up as he kissed up to your lips, your legs wrapped around his waist as you drew him closer to you.

"But if you ever get tired-" You hummed as he suddenly pressed his lips against yours, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck as he kissed you hungrily. As if this kiss was the last thing he was ever going to do.

"I'll never get tired of it." He promised you as he kissed your jawline, his fingers slowly running down the sides of your body and running along the stretch marks as you let out a shaky breath.

SEUNGMIN:

Seungmin watched from the doorframe as you ran your hands along each and every stretch mark you could see. You'd just gotten out of the shower when you'd seen some of the marks, you hated them with every fibre of your being. You always felt as though they were something to be ashamed about, something to hide.

"Yn?" You flinched as you suddenly heard Seungmin's voice and you raced to cover your body, though it was too late since he was already rushing to hold you close to him. Tears rolled down your cheeks as he wrapped his arms around you tightly, pressing small kisses to the top of your head as he held onto you.

"Shh, it's okay." He whispered softly, rubbing your back as you both sank down to the floor so he could hold you closer to his body.

Once you'd calmed down a little you both sat in silence, Seungmin had no idea what to say so he continued to rub your back in small circles waiting for you to speak.

"Do you hate them?" You suddenly asked as he stared down at you,

"Why would I hate them?" He frowned, looking at you as he took in your appearance. Why would he hate them? They were something that happened to everybody's body.

"Because they're disgusting-" His hand slowly covered your mouth as he shook his head at you,

"No, they're not baby. They're only natural." You laid your head down on his chest, it was something you tried to tell yourself a lot. That everyone at some point had stretch marks but it was hard to think like that when you were so insecure about your own.

"I think you look beautiful, no matter what." As Seungmin spoke he ran his fingers up and down your thighs where your stretch marks were most prominent and you held your breath,

"But-"

"No buts," He whispered pressing a kiss against your shoulder as he continued to gently touch over each and every stretch mark that you had on your body, whispering sweet things into your ear every time.

JEONGIN:

When you'd first-time Jeongin you were insecure about your stretch marks he had no idea what to say to you, except the fact that he found you beautiful but when that wasn't enough he moved on from that. Turning to Chan for some help and even looking online for ways he would be able to comfort you.

"Innie," You laughed as he looked up at you from his phone, he'd been telling you all of these different facts about stretch marks for the last five minutes. It was sweet that he was trying to tell you exactly what they were and why they appeared even though you already knew all of this,

"I'm not done, I still have a bunch more-" You kissed him softly as you shook your head. The two of you were sitting in his room alone for the first time in a long time and you didn't want to waste that time on your insecurities.

"Baby...Please, I already know all of the facts." You whispered as you pulled away from him, balling his shirt up into your hands and bringing him closer.

"I want to kiss you," You whispered as he nods his head, turning you so you're below him,

"Good...Because that ties me into the next thing." He whispered kissing down your body slowly making you whimper. His lips reached your thighs where he began to kiss where your stretch marks were formed,

"I-Innie," You cooed, running your fingers through his hair as he continued to place kisses over every mark, not missing a single one as he looked up at you. He was going to spend every minute he could prove to you that your stretch marks were nothing you had to be insecure about, not around him at least.

Tagline: @minholuvs @taestannie @sw33tnight @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @taeechwitaa @justbangtanthingz @stillwithlix @lolalee24 @yubinism @ethereallino @aerastus @kimahnjung98 @halesandy

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periprose · 8 months

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Florence - Chapter Seven

It's Harry and MJ's wedding day, and you feel a million different emotions at once. Happiness, fear, an urge to never part from Peter's side. Finally, you come to a resolution about you and Peter's burgeoning relationship, ecstatically so.

Wedding stuff, ceremonies and reception, lots of emotions, cheesy romantic things (kissing, overly dramatic proposal stuff), smut (riding + lots of tension coming to a head (pls skip over this segment if you're uncomfortable)), I can't believe this took so long to write

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Peter feels elated. On top of the world, even.

Yeah, it was just a kiss– hardly the most invigorating, erotic thing he could’ve done– but, as cheesy as Peter feels when he thinks this, it was a kiss with you.

“Ugh.” He smacks himself in the face, cringing at how much he loves these intense feelings. He’s lying in his bed– the villa bedroom that was selected for him was perfect, down to the mattress that keeps Peter’s back pain at bay– but he can’t help but grin bashfully under his hands.

You had had the same sort of look yesterday. After Peter had finished kissing you, MJ had come and stolen you away for more bridesmaid duties– speeches, readings at the church, etc. – and despite your shy small smile, your hand clinging onto his as MJ dragged you away with a very questioning, sly look, he had to let you go. Unfortunately so.

Peter knows he loves you. He spent most of the night tossing and turning, thinking about how to properly ask you to be his girlfriend, his partner, his significant other. To be the one that he knew you were back when the two of you were just kids.

He was just too stupid to see it.

Hell, even Logan told him that it was obvious. After years and years, he apparently always wondered when one of you would make the first move and get it over with. This was coming from the guy who couldn’t bear to ask out Ms. Grey and ended up ending it over nothing, too.

Peter clambers out of bed, rubbing his face, getting ready to brush his teeth, knowing that because he’s known you for so long– his method of asking you to make things official would come naturally.

You’re watching the sun rise over the gorgeous trees and groves of the villa, leaking through the windows of the house. Your room has a teeny balcony– you never noticed it before since a table obscured the door, and it’s a lovely space to spend time thinking before the wedding.

Outside, a cool breeze makes your hair loose, blowing away strands lightly, and you feel at peace. You feel glad to be here.

Siena is quite beautiful… but you’re very excited to actually go back to Florence today. It’s the best part of Italy to you, and you share too many memories with Peter to not want to be there with him today.

Especially after he kissed you. You find yourself blushing, but that’s okay. It’s too special for you to know how to deal with– you’re finding that you’re easily flustered, going over countless memories of sunny beaches and ice cream and studying algebra and Italian architecture, cobblestone streets and sun dresses and tanned skin that always stayed with you long after you would come home to the cold autumn airs of New York.

But the best part was that Peter would always be with you throughout it all. Not just in Florence, but in high school, at home, being neighbours and bothering each other all time. You never had to have a break from him– he was like your own personal summer vacation.

You know you have had your moments, pulling away, feeling stupid and neglected– the sorrow you feel is fairly terrible– but the gratitude, the satisfaction you have from having Peter next to you now is unlike anything else you’ve ever felt.

You wonder if Peter feels the same, that he’s feeling an overwhelming amount of emotions all at once– love, affection, but also fondness, familiarity, relief– you hope so. You want to talk to him again.

You didn’t sleep very well last night, and you know that’s bad for the wedding– but you’re not tired at all. No, no.

For the first time in your life, you feel really awake.

“Howlett?” Peter’s voice calls, and you turn– you stumble for a moment.

“Hey, watch it!” Peter comes through your grabs your forearm, steadying you. You weren’t in any risk of falling over the railing of the balcony, but Peter’s got that strange sense, and his brown eyes peer into yours, checking to see if you’re okay.

Once he feels that you are, his gaze softens and he settles into a smile. His brows furrow as he grins at you.

He’s still wearing PJs, as are you– clearly you weren’t the only one struggling to stay away.

“I– I’m okay.” You hold his hand, trying not to beam. “You didn’t have to do that, but thanks.”

“Couldn’t exactly let my girlfriend fall off the balcony, could I?” Peter ruffles your hair, and you feel an alarming amount of excitement and earnestness at his words. “Not after I finally got one.”

“Hey.” You point your finger at Peter’s chest, and he raises his hands in an oh-ho, let’s see what you have to say sort of way, and you can’t help but smirk a little even if you’re mock glaring at him. “You’re admitting that it could’ve been any girl? And you would’ve been happy?”

“Oh, Howlett.” Peter reaches over and tries his best not to snicker– he fails– as he starts this overly romantic, purposefully terrible soliloquy to you. “It could only be you. I’d walk across a thousand burning coals for you. I’d reach up into the sky and take the moon and give it to you. I’d rake my balls through shredded glass just for the chance to kiss your sweet, chapped lips.”

You cackle at that, and Peter giggles while holding you close, holding your face.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” You laugh, and you shake your head at him. “What’s with the use of girlfriend, anyways? When did you ask me to be your girlfriend?”

“Was it not obvious yesterday?” Peter purses his lips. “Should I kiss you again, and make it more clear?”

Peter leans in but you stop him with your hand, and he kisses your hand anyways.

Licks it, too.

“Yuck.” You shake your hand away. “You can’t just claim me like a primitive man-ape, Peter. You gotta make it official, properly. I’ve waited too long for this moment for you to go and just make it so.”

“Oh, really?” Peter looks bemused. “You spent a great many algebra study sessions fantasizing about me, huh?”

“Obviously.” You roll your eyes, and Peter pushes down the urge to kiss your endearingly annoyed expression.

“Okay. Deal.” Peter takes you by the hand, and leads you inside. “Do you think we have time for a morning coffee?”

It’s a very hectic time to go and sneak away like this.

MJ is currently doing an intense skincare regimen– she enjoys it a lot typically, but in this case it’s to give her a wedding glow– numerous products are slathered on as she lays on her bed. Face, arms, legs covered.

She gives you the okay to go, as long as you’re back in five minutes to help her get dressed, and Peter promises it will take two.

Peter makes his coffee– it’s easy, it’s just black with no sugar or cream– but for you he adds in a lot of sweetness and sugar and cream and even if you don’t usually take your coffee that sweet, you appreciate it anyways.

“You used to drink it like this in high school.” Peter admits sheepishly, and you know he’s right– it’s cute how he remembers that.

MJ is so glad you’re back, shooing Peter away to the groom’s side of the house. As two makeup artists work on her hair, her face, her skin, working in even more products and massaging her muscles (MJ is so particular about reducing her frown wrinkles) she feels relaxed, luxurious, amazing… if not for the fact that she’s having wedding panic.

“Seriously, what if Harry gets cold feet again?” MJ blinks her deep green-blue eyes, tears hanging onto her pale, mascara-less eyelashes. “I knew we should’ve waited a few years. He’s been so worried about his father, about everything with Oscorp… God, I’m so fucking stupid!”

“MJ– No.” You shake your head. “You’re just freaking out. Deep breaths, Mary Jane.”

She inhales somewhat dramatically, but shuts her eyes, and you watch as MJ’s flushed, red skin calms into her fair, even skintone.

“Harry wouldn’t have proposed if he didn’t want to do this now.” You remind her carefully.

“And he wouldn’t have invited his dad if things were that terrible, right?” MJ nods, and she watches as you nod, too. “Okay. Hold my hand, Lettie. It’s scarier than I realized.”

“Getting married?” You sit next to her, squeezing her palm in a warm grasp, and try to avoid the makeup artist currently applying a peachy blush to MJ’s cheeks.

“Yeah. Not to be crazy, but… it’s literally marriage. It’s Mary Jane Osborn from here on out. Mrs. MJ, wife to Harry Osborn.” MJ inhales. “I know I want to do it, but I just… I have so many nerves!”

“Pretend it’s one of your modelling shoots?” The hair stylist arranging MJ’s red hair into a loose bun chimes in, as she works in lilies through the strands.

“No… that won’t do. Thanks though, Clara.” MJ sighs. “It’s not like that. It’s just… it’s been so long since I’ve had to really… shed the image.”

“Bare your soul?” You respond, and MJ nods. “I get it. You need to be candid about your feelings.”

“Yeah, it can’t be all image work. And I just worry that I’m going to come across as a influencer woman being shallow and vain rather than, well, the real me, little MJ Watson from Queens.” MJ’s voice turns small. “I almost wish I wasn’t famous at all.”

“Too late for that, cupcake.” The hairstylist comments again, and MJ snorts despite herself. “Listen. If Osborn knows you’re being real, then that’s good enough. Outsiders are always going to judge.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” You agree, and MJ swallows, before sighing with relief.

“Okay. Okay. I’m okay.” MJ fixes her glance on you. “Don’t leave me though.”

MJ looks perfect– even more so, in your personal taste, than she ever has during her glammed up, avant garde beauty shoots– she looks just like herself. Enhanced, a little, with her freckles still shining through dewy, glowy makeup, topped off with shimmery, sheer gold-glitter eyeshadow, and poppy red lipstick, blotted so not to be too much. She looks like your best friend, but also like… the best possible version of herself. You tell her as much.

She beams. “Thanks, Lettie. Do I look like a bride?”

“Of course!” You shake your head at her. “We just need to get you into your dress…”

MJ isn’t one to care about being nude anymore, after being desensitised to designers stripping and dressing her, and she undoes her robe with a simple pull of the strap, exposing her bare breasts and panties– you’re reminded just how much taller she is than you when she stands up straight, all legs and taut stomach, sharp collarbones and angular shoulders, muscles and bone contorting into a physique that just screams model. It’s like she was made to wear anything in an editorial context.

“This is how I feel. Standing in that church, telling everyone I love Harry…” MJ crosses her arms, causing her tits to jut out more, and you snort, totally indifferent to her naked body. You’ve seen it a million times. “I’m going to be emotionally and spiritually naked.”

“And that’s harder than having your tits out?” You joke, but MJ points at you, seriously agreeing. “Alright, arms up.”

The dress is quite beautiful. An off-white, almost blue in tone mermaid dress, custom made by Dior, it fits MJ like a glove, snatching in at her bust, waist, and her hips, but then flaring out in an elegant a-line skirt, all silk and lace detailing. There’s quite a bit of rhinestone work from her sweetheart neckline, down to her hips, and the effect– as you pull it up on her, tightening the corset straps as she reaches around to make sure it’s all fitting– it’s like a halo glow.

Yes, as you carefully adorn MJ’s veil over her head, you feel in your heart– she’s an angel. No doubt about it.

“You look beautiful.” You grin at her, and to your surprise, MJ’s eyes water a little, and she hugs you tightly.

“I’m so glad you came here.” MJ murmurs. “I never would’ve wanted to get married without you by my side.”

“Same. I mean, if I get married–”

“Stop that. You’re going to get married.” MJ laughs, cackles, really. “You and Peter– you guys are so meant to be. I’ve never been more glad that you two hit it off this week.”

“Even though we could be stealing the spotlight?” You joke.

“Especially if it means you’re stealing the spotlight.” MJ squeezes your arms. “You really deserve it, Lettie.”

There’s a sudden lump in your throat. Never have you ever assumed that you deserve any of the good things life throws your way– you always assume that it’s just due to luck. A cushy coding job? Luck. Being friends with Harry, who’s willing to give you a much higher salary, and MJ, who gives you the best fashion advice? Luck. Peter somehow being interested in you? Luck. What’s really special about you?

“I know that look.” MJ shakes her head. “You’re a catch, babe. Now go get dressed and blow that man’s socks off.”

“I… thought you were going to finish that sentence differently.” You admit, glad that MJ stopped your spiral into depressive thoughts. “Isn’t it ‘knock your socks off?’”

MJ shoos you out, laughing.

After very quickly putting on your makeup, It’s not hard to dress yourself. The dress, pretty as it is, all forest-green, flowing lace and silky details that you loved from the moment you saw it, just has one simple zipper.

Unfortunately, your hands scramble for purchase– it is just out of your reach, and it’s exceedingly annoying to try and zip it from the back when you can’t see it.

The dress is flowing loosely around you as you sigh loudly, and decide to turn towards your bathroom, where you can estimate better with a mirror.

“Howlett?”

Peter comes up behind you, and you feel your skin warm. He’s too close– you’re not even fully dressed– and you hold your hands against the top of your dress, trying to stay modest.

“You’ve caught me in a fairly compromising position, I admit.” You joke quietly, and Peter chuckles.

“Maybe that was my intention.” He whispers half-jokingly, and you close your eyes, trying not to laugh or be turned on by the insinuation. “Kidding. Do you need privacy? I can go.”

“No, no, I need your help.” You mutter. “Could you just– zip up the back of the dress? I can’t reach it.”

“Of course.” Peter gently grasps the zipper, and you feel his hand press against your lower back, the heat emanating through the silk fabric, and with one fluid motion, he zips you up, the dress fitting perfectly, no longer free flowing but now clearly draped and styled in a way that accentuates the way you look.

Peter twists your shoulders so you’re facing him, and with an uncustomary amount of emotion, feels his breath hold. You look so gorgeous– so stunning, in a way he almost feels reverent when he looks at you– and he cannot help but voice it.

“Wait, you look– amazing–” You had no idea Peter was wearing his suit already. He looks dapper, sweet, calming.

“Me? Oh man, Howlett. You look so pretty. I don’t even–” Peter harshly swallows. “It almost makes me regret never taking you out to prom.”

“It’s alright, Peter. This can be our do-over.” You kid with him, but he’s still solemn.

“Why was I so stupid?” Peter scowls at himself, and you get the feeling he’s actually going to be upset about this for a long time. “I couldn’t even see what I had, Howlett. You should’ve smacked me upside the head.”

“No, that’s too harsh.” You snicker at his antics. “It’s okay. I don’t think it’s a bad thing. If anything, it kind of… brought us closer together? Right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Shared trauma.” Peter laughs to himself, but he leans in a little closer. “Sorry, I gotta make up for lost time.”

Before you can admonish Peter for trying to ruin your lipstick, he’s already pulling your face forward in a strong, firm kiss, his lips pressing against yours without preamble or hesitation, and he holds you there– while you feel your insides turn warm, all jelly like, as Peter strokes your hair and face and jaw. He lets go for just a moment– but still presses cute, short kisses against your mouth, little pecks, really, and then he actually stops.

Peter’s lips are that soft red colour you picked out for yourself– he’s basically eaten your lipstick off.

“How many kisses do you need until you feel it’s enough for all the years you missed?” You tease him, gently wiping away at his lips.

“Honestly, Howlett, it’s never gonna be enough. Seriously, you’re going to want to invest in a real good lip balm treatment because I am going to kiss your lips off.” Peter proves his point by kissing your fingers as you’re wiping his lips, and you snort.

“Real smooth.” You pull out your lipstick and re-apply. “You’ll get tired of it eventually.”

“No.” Peter’s serious. “I’m not gonna get tired of getting to kiss you. It’s a privilege and I can’t take it for granted, so…”

He presses a kiss to the top of your hairline, not wanting to mess up your makeup again, and together you leave to downstairs in the foyer where everyone is waiting for the limo, and you can witness the wedding event of the year.

Peter obviously sits next to you in the limo. The bridal and groom’s party are all grouped together in one giant limo, while MJ is being escorted in a very fancy, ivory white Volkswagen beetle with her parents, which will then be the newlywed’s car to drive off in, and Harry– being Harry– is driving in on a fast motorcycle, leading everyone to the Florence Cathedral.

There’s plenty of space in the limo. Gwen and Miles are taking pictures of each other using an instant camera, while Gayle and Betty gossip about some of the guests posting stories on instagram– supposedly someone is wearing white, and Gayle launches a plan to help her sister out and “accidentally” throw some red wine on the dress.

The other groomsmen mostly keep among themselves. You blink and realize that you’ve never really conversed with them– they’re mostly Harry’s friends and they have their own stuff to talk about.

Betty offers to take a picture of Gwen and Miles– somehow turning out stunning under her adept fingers, with just a smartphone camera– and you know that’s why MJ loves her. The one time Betty shot MJ for the highschool newspaper, it was all over from there– it basically launched her career after it went viral.

Then Betty turns the camera towards you and Peter. “Smile for the camera, Howlett. You too, Parker.”

She’s as deadpan as ever, but you and Peter lean into each other over the seats, smiling with not a hint of irony. You’re happy.

The film prints out, and Betty holds it away from the light, shaking it a little, and as the image appears, she hands it to you two.

“Wow.” Peter traces the edge of the photo. “This is… maybe better than my photography skills, somehow.”

“I know that’s a real compliment if it’s coming from your egotistical ass, Parker.” Betty sniffs, and shuffles away to gossip with Gayle again.

“Howlett, you’re so…” Peter inhales and sighs, as if he really can’t believe he’s around you, and you feel yourself blush. “I’m putting this in my jacket pocket. Just as a sweet memory.”

“Aw, you sap.” You giggle, and Peter laughs.

There are loads of people in the Florence Cathedral, all admiring the architecture, the religious art pieces, the tile work. Far more people than you would’ve accounted for– but then you remember that many of these guests are not staying at the Villa. You see more models, more tech billionaires, but also…neighbours, friends, family. Sweet memories connected with all of these people.

To your surprise, your father is already at the church, having left with Norman an hour ago. He’s conversing with a mature, pretty redhead that you recognize instantly.

“Oh my god– Ms. Grey?” You shove Logan out of the way, and he grumbles but smiles to keep up appearances. Jean fixes him a glance that totally tells you she knows about his grumpy history, and she likes it. “You’re here?”

“Of course I am.” She’s wear a teal blue dress, light gold heels, and somehow, despite a few wrinkles and spots– she still looks like your second grade teacher. “You’ve grown up into a lovely young woman, Howlett.”

“She has.” Logan pats your shoulder, looking the part of a proud father. Actually, if you really look into his eyes– you can see that they’re wet.

“Oh… thank you.” You swallow sincerely, hoping you won’t make your father cry. “You look very nice, too, Ms. Grey.”

“Yeah. I agree.” Peter chimes in from behind you, sounding very… wistful. You giggle.

“Oh wow. I never would’ve expected you to be so tall now, Peter!” Jean pinches his cheek. “Thanks.”

Peter is definitely fulfilling some childhood fantasy right now, with how deeply he’s blushing, you think. But you still ask Jean why she’s here.

“Oh, my dear, you don’t know?” She laughs. “I’m MJ’s aunt. Well, more like a family-friend aunt. Not really related. But still.”

“Wow, really?” You want to ask more questions, but the church bells have started ringing.

“Well, I must go take my seat now. Thanks for being such darling students, my dears.” Jean Grey leaves you two– not before giving Logan a rather loaded, heated look. Maybe slightly inappropriate for church.

“You’re probably not going to wash that cheek, are you?” Logan teases Peter, scratching his own jaw. “Don’t blame you.”

“Why don’t you go after her, Dad?” You cross your arms. “Why not just… try?”

“It’s not that simple, kid.”

“Sure it is.” Peter holds Logan’s shoulder– and to your surprise, Logan doesn’t shove him off. “You told me not to give up on Howlett–”

“I told you not to break her fucking heart again, Parker.”

“Okay, same thing applies here. Why end things with Ms. Grey? Because you think you’re not good enough? You’re a washed up veteran?” Peter scoffs.

“Watch it…” Logan warns him.

“Right, right. Sorry. Have you ever thought that maybe Ms. Grey’s waiting for you to make a move? Maybe you’re giving up because you’re sabotaging yourself.” Peter shakes his head. “You don’t deserve to be alone after… after…”

“My namesake.” You flatly comment.

“Yeah, her.” Peter’s eyes soften, and Logan actually seems to be listening. “Give yourself a chance, Logan.”

“Wow. Normally I’d have to beat your ass for talking so disrespectfully to me, Parker.” Logan exhales. “But even I can admit you’re not… wrong. I’ll think about it.”

And Peter flashes that smile at you, that overly confident, I-just-fixed-it smile that you absolutely adore.

Peter lends you his arm as you walk down the aisle again, slow, smooth, everything moving as it should. It feels strangely perfect, in a way that you’ve never felt that your life was, and you can’t help but grin at people– they smile back at you, too.

You catch little details in the church pews– floral details, lace and chiffon draping over seats, and a candlelit glow make everything seem particularly magical. The Cathedral’s artfully designed dome and tilework lends itself well to the feeling that something spiritual, something momentous is about to occur.

The gold chain bracelet MJ gifted you a few days ago glints against your wrist– as Peter’s does, too. You wonder if MJ and Harry planned that together. Some sort of pre-engagement ring type of deal.

Peter smiles at you once you part at the altar. Really, he kind of– chokes out a smile, a huge grin that he can’t help but convey towards you. And you know that you love him.

The rest of the wedding party walks in, MJ being the very last. You watch as a silence falls over the people of the church, a hush of emotion and awe, to finally see the bride on her big day. MJ looks sweet, reverent and graceful, and she grasps her parents’ arms tightly, while Harry catches her eyes, and you can see his adam’s apple bob up and down. Maybe Harry’s getting soft.

The priest begins the wedding service for real. MJ looks pleased, nervous, obviously running on nerves, while Harry is bashful, shy, like a little boy again.

Before you know it… it’s over. You and Peter are called over to be witnesses to the wedding document, and you sign it, feeling an air of relief, some sort of satisfying completion to this wild journey.

Harry dips MJ– tall as she is– at the front of the church, in a sweeping kiss that has people clapping and cheering.

The Villa is full of thumping music when you arrive back. People are already dancing, swaying, eating, drinking, either in the outdoor garden space, or inside the house itself.

But you only want to be with Peter. You’re not even spending time with the other bridesmaids– but Gwen, Betty and Gayle seem to understand deeply about your affection for Peter, and they let you go with smiles that seem to know something.

Peter and Harry are already taking tequila shots at the bar, wasting no time, and Harry’s mouth stretches into a large smile when he sees you. “Hey, speak of the devil!”

He motions for you to come over.

“You guys were talking about me?” You snort, and Peter turns a little pinker.

“Duh, as if this guy can talk about anything else.” Harry playfully punches Peter. “Howlett, you might have to marry him, or he’s never gonna shut up.”

“Uh… yeah, that’s just my drunk brain talking. I don’t mean any pressure.” Peter tries to excuse himself by drinking another random shot.

“He doesn’t know I want to marry him too.” You whisper to Harry. “Since ninth grade, I think.”

“He’s a dude, Howlett. Coming from another dude– we are blind sometimes.” Harry passes you a shot. “Have you made things official yet? Settled the deal?”

“That’s the business talk coming out.” You joke, and Harry laughs.

“True. But trust me, Peter can be dumb. Until you really… make it official, he’s not gonna believe that you’re into him of all people. He’s really insecure.” Harry sounds distant, sad, as Peter continues talking to the bartender, totally oblivious.

“Oh. I told him that he has to ask me to be his girlfriend before I really agree to it.” You respond, and Harry shakes his head with a wry smile.

“Who’s the one with the business talk now?” He laughs, and you shrug as if you really are that shrewd.

“I think I’ve suffered long enough.”

“That, you have.” Harry cheers to that and hands you a shot, which you drink gratefully.

After a bit of erratic, half-drunk dancing– whatever DJ was hired for this is amazing at picking songs that force you to, at the very least, bop your head– Peter pulls you aside.

“What’s up?” You ask him, still a little sweaty and frazzled from the music.

“I want to get some water. Like the icy water from the fridge? Just to sober up a little.” Peter shrugs, and you glance upwards at him.

“You really need me to be there for that?” You raise your eyebrows, and Peter scrambles for a response.

“Well… I… uh, I just want you there. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” Peter admits, and you snicker.

“I will. I needed a break from dancing, too.”

Together you stroll through the garden, up to the backyard doors of the house, laughing about how fun everything is, and you really meander– taking a lot of time to stare at Peter, and him at you– and you don’t notice something is off until Peter pulls you to the side, just behind the bar counter of the kitchen.

“Wh–” You cut yourself off, watching a deep-red ponytail bob up and down at rapid speed, with gusto. Tan shoulders and just a hint of bare breasts coming up past the counter, where you can see her.

It’s definitely Ms. Grey. Uh… Jean. You can just make out the edge of her side profile from beyond the counter, as she convulses on the floor, riding someone unseen, and she moans, “Logan, oh my god, Logan–!”

Peter pulls you away by the hand, down the hallway and into a random closet, before you can let yourself fully grasp the idea of potentially seeing your father deep in the throes of passion. You are so glad you didn’t see or hear anymore than that.

“Damn. When I told Logan to go for it… I didn’t think he’d do that.” Peter comments after shutting the door, and you, despite your very childish horror at the whole thing, start giggling. Peter smiles, and you can tell he’s trying to cheer you up.

“I mean… at least he’ll be getting over my namesake.” You raise your eyebrows. “You think Ms. Grey wants to be my mom?”

“Howlett, I’m pretty sure Logan is about to make her one. Without your involvement.” Peter replies drily, and from how clearly you can hear the rasp in his throat, you can tell this closet must not be very big.

You laugh, a little awkwardly now, because you’re still not used to being so close to Peter, not in this context anyways. A dark, shady closet, where it’s just the two of you, feeling body warmth emanate from each other. Peter’s breaths are hitting somewhere around your hairline, and if you came any closer– you’re sure you would be enveloped by his chest.

“Peter, did you bring me here just to get some alone time?” You tease.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that water.” Peter leans in a little, and you get the sense that he’s actually holding himself back. “But to be honest, Howlett? You’re a pretty good alternative.”

“Right. Because I’m curing your thirst.” You roll your eyes, and Peter laughs.

“See, this is what I love about you. You always know what I’m about to say.” Peter says, and he watches you, in the near darkness of the closet, tense a little.

Peter searches around for a light switch, and finds it. A tiny, yellow bulb lights up in the centre of the room, and you realize the closet is bigger than you thought.

A chaise lounge, grey in color, is off to the side.

“I just wanted to see you.” Peter answers the question he knows you were about to ask.

“Oh.” You smile up at him, but there’s still uncertainty in your posture.

“Howlett, what’s wrong? Am I being too much?” He looks into your eyes, and you just don’t know how to answer.

“No. I just… I’m bad at this.” You grow shy under Peter’s watchful eye.

“So am I.” He takes your hand. “But you know what? It’s time to be adults about this. I’m gonna reiterate it, I love you.”

Something about his emphasis on the word love has you spluttering and laughing, and Peter repeats it anyways, in different stresses and tones, “I love you. I LOVE YOU. I love you. I love you, Howlett.”

“I know, I know. I love you too.” It spills out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, but Peter grins eagerly and nods. “You’ve already told me that before.”

“You mean when I was drunk a couple days ago, right? Well I meant it then, and I mean it now.” Peter nods firmly.

“Do you remember that you’ve kissed me before, too?” You ask just out of curiosity, and Peter turns a little pink before admitting that he does.

“Who could forget the beach sunscreen kiss? I still think of that as my first one.” Peter laughs quietly. “But yesterday was more… um…”

“Real.” You whisper, and Peter nods again, this time with a little more agitation in his eyes, and you watch him mull over something, obviously thinking about kissing you after speaking about it, and you know you want to after the heated memories of yesterday, and his eyes glance towards your mouth, before he decides on it.

Peter sweeps you up in a kiss that’s far more lustful and tense, grasping around your waist and hips as he pulls you in, and you feel his lips soften against yours, melting as you feel a rhythm occur naturally. You kiss him back and you know that knowing Peter for so long has enabled you– it’s like the two of you were made to be together.

He kisses down your neck, and pulls down the silky front of your dress– as much as it will allow, at least– and kisses soft, open mouthed kisses against your cleavage, which causes you to writhe against him a little. Eventually Peter finds the zipper of your dress and pulls it down halfway, allowing him to really dip his mouth against your bare breasts, and you groan as Peter lightly sucks on your nipple.

“...Jesus Christ, Howlett…” Peter murmurs in between kissing your chest and upwards on your neck and jaw. “I don’t even… know how long I wanted to do this.”

There’s not many words to be shared from you as you feel yourself turn lightheaded, and you kiss Peter again, taking control of his mouth, relishing the feeling of his tongue swiping against yours, leading him back towards the very convenient chaise lounge chair. There, Peter discards his blazer and unbuttons his shirt, and lies back against the chair, his dick clearly straining against his pants.

You kiss him again, sitting right on his bulge, lifting your skirt a little higher so Peter can feel the shift of your bare skin against him, through the fabric pants, and his eyes roll back into his head as you kiss him, grind a little. Maybe it’s too much– Peter grabs your ass and pulls up the skirt even higher, pushing you down on his clothed bulge with too much intensity– and you feel pleasant tingles spread across your skin as his bulge presses into you, almost inside you, against the thin underwear that you’re wearing. You’re very slick– you shudder as Peter pulls down the zipper of your dress fully, and you feel his hands roam across your bare back, and then into the inside of your dress, feeling your waist and breasts.

“I didn’t bring a–” Peter starts, as you let your hands trace up his chest, and he clearly has trouble saying no.

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m on the pill.” You say, matter-of-factly, mostly interested in staying on top of Peter until he begs for more. “Just for hormonal reasons.”

“Oh… okay…” Peter inhales as you press more kisses against his neck. “Howlett… it’s a lot for me to handle.”

“Huh?”

Before Peter can really answer, he whispers an apology before tightly gripping your waist, and he sits upright, pulling you flush against his chest. Then, as he zips off his pants– he somehow takes them off completely, leaving him in just his boxers. There’s a wet spot– and Peter is pulling his boxers off, too.

His dick is hard, almost painfully so based on his expression, and you understand you riled him up a little too much. With one hand– Peter reaches under your skirt, and you help him pull off your underwear with shaky, sweaty hands.

You’re aroused enough that it doesn’t hurt. When Peter slowly enters you, as you lower yourself down on him, you feel electric on the inside, some sort of satisfyingly sick combination of love and lust overtaking you, and you feel full from the pressure, feeling Peter throb inside you, and you’ve never felt so close to him as you do now, and he starts a rapid pace of thrusting into you, holding you tightly against him as he does, his thighs smacking against your ass.

You do feel pleasure, a sharp ache starting to build in your lower regions, as Peter continues to press overly hot kisses against your jaw, but you also feel loved. It doesn’t feel like a hookup, and you know it isn’t. You know as Peter wraps his arms around your waist, he’s not just using you, he really loves you.

He watches as you fall over his shoulder, having reached the peak of your climax, and Peter pulls out, letting himself finish on his own leg.

“You didn’t… have to…” You sleepily tell him.

“I know. I was just taking a precaution.” Peter whispers, and he holds you close as you fall asleep on top of him. “Love you, Howlett.”

He’s really glad this closet has a locked door.

The morning after the wedding, you wake up to find yourself mysteriously dressed in a oversized tee shirt, and your panties. You’re lying in your own bed, but you don’t know how you got here.

Peter is sleeping next to you. His brown hair is dishevelled, and he’s wearing a random tee shirt too. Actually, you think you recognize that from Harry’s wardrobe.

“Peter. Hey, Peter.” You shake his shoulder. “Peter Parker!”

“Huh? What’s that?” He sleepily rubs his eyes. “Oh, morning, Howlett.”

“How did we get here? After we… I mean, you know.” You blush. “What did you do?”

“Oh.” Peter lets himself get up for real, sitting up on the bed. “I waited it out until no one was near the stairs, and then I took you upstairs to your room. I changed your dress for you. There were randoms in my room, so I hope you don’t mind that I stayed in here with you.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” You wrinkle your brows, frowning. “I just wonder why you did all that even though I’m not your girlfriend.”

Peter pauses. Actually, he genuinely stills, no movement at all.

“Oh, Howlett. You scared me.” He shakes his head, before grabbing your hands. “I just kinda assumed after yesterday, you would believe that’s enough evidence.”

“Humor me.” You slightly smile as Peter agrees with a little shake of his head.

“I’ll be serious. I am serious.” Peter grows solemn. “Howlett. I’ve known you my entire life, practically. I can’t picture it being without you. The year or so that it was, was maybe the worst year of my life.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I just appreciate you all the more now.” Peter traces your knuckles. “I’ve grown– we’ve grown up a lot. I needed that, so I could be here to ask you now. Would you be my girlfriend? My partner, if that sounds more equal and appropriate to you?”

“Yes.” You pull Peter into a hug, surely one of many from now on, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I’m so glad we went on this trip.”

Peter smiles fondly. He’s never been more glad, either.

“I never want to let you down again, Peter.” You admit shyly. “I hope it’s not cheesy to say I want to be around you all the time.”

“It isn’t.” Peter presses a very chaste, soft kiss against your lips, and he feels, finally, that his life is really coming together.

So do you.

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shadowbriar · 10 months

Text

Druig - Delirium

Pairing : Druig x Reader (she/her) Word Count : 4.3k Warning : Medications. Hallucination. Angst. Let me know if I miss anything. Synopsis : He is her favourite worst nightmare, dressed as her knight in shining armour at night before fading as the sun rises. Notes : Inspired by Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine. I recommend listening to it while reading. Please let me know if any part of this fic is offensive. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

There it is again. The sense of familiarity, comfort she couldn’t find elsewhere, warmth that fills her heart full like no other. It was not because of the peaceful night nor was it because of the cup of hot chocolate in her hand. It was not because of the heat from the fireside. Certainly not from the shrieking sound the fan was making. It was not from the ticking of the clock by the table. It was not from any of them.

She stares at him with heart eyes. He was resting his chin to his palm, elbow posted on the sofa. It was as if she was gazing into a mirror. He reflects the admiration, the same intensity of affection and love she tries to show him. They were smiling. Basking into the beautiful sight of each other’s lovesick expression.

But her heart was heavy. She could feel the bitter truth that is slowly seeping in. A cold raging storm with no chance of mercy, one that would pierce through her skin and leave marks she’d never be able to heal. No matter how hard her head tries to turn deaf from all the warnings in the back of her mind, she knows that this too will end soon.

“You’re kinda cute,” She comments.

The boy laughs, “Kinda?”

She only nods. She places the mug to the table, now running her hand to his hair while the other rests on top of his arm. She watches as each strand escapes her gentle grasp. The way they seem to fall into place like puzzle pieces, each contributing to the beauty of the bigger picture— him.

“I..” She whispers, her tone shaking from intense emotions “I love you.”

He smiles. The kind of smile you see on people who are deeply in love. The kind of smile you give to someone you’d lie your life on the line for. The kind of smile she could never get from anyone else, one he never showed to anyone else.

He took her hand that was running through his hair and kissed her palm. He places it to his cheek, closing his eyes as if he wanted to melt into her touch. She could sense that he wanted to stay too. To live in this moment forever. She’s seen that look on his face one too many times, hear his reluctant sigh for one too many times too. But in the end, he would always be the one strongest of them two. To be the one to get up from the sofa first.

“I love you,” He says as he stares into her eyes “I love you beyond your imagination.”

“I know.”

That apologetic look now clouds his face. The very expression she hates most to see from him. It has become her constant reminder that this was all just a dream. A recurring dream that haunts her night, daunting her days as she tries to find the underlying answers. In a minute or two now she would wake up and find herself alone in her apartment, clutching into her blankets as she tries to fill in the void in her chest with its meaningless warmth. The void where he’s supposed to fill in.

“Can’t I just stay here?” She pleaded even though she knew what his answer would be. She’s heard it a million times now “I don’t want to leave.”

The boy didn’t answer. Instead, he pulls her for a close embrace, resting her head to his chest. She could smell his perfume, feel the steady beating of his heart, and painfully hear the shuddering sigh he let go. He doesn’t want her to leave either.

“You know where to find me,” He cuddles her tighter, afraid that she would look up and see the tears welling on his eyes “I’ll always be here.”

—-

“Are you okay?”

She blinks as her friend reaches for her hand, bursting her bubble of thought. It took her a couple seconds to process her surroundings. Lord knows just how long she was out of touch. She couldn’t recall the last thing her friend was saying. Her mind was busy trying to cling onto the crumbles of last night’s dream that is slowly slipping out of her grasp, erasing the details of her blissful moment with him.

“Yeah, sorry,” She says with a tight smile “You were saying?”

Her friend sighs, eyebrows pinched on a worried expression, “Are you sure you’re alright? Is it about that dream again?”

Her shoulder tenses. She knew just how ridiculous she looked in her friend’s eyes. To be so bothered by a dream, a silly dream about a boy so perfect yet she couldn’t really recognise who. She knew that no one would understand the distress it brought her. She knew that no one would understand how happy she was in that dream, only to wake up feeling empty and hollow. She knew that no one would understand how tortured she was inside.

Back when she first had those dreams, she didn’t know how else she could find out about him but to ask around. She’d asked her friends, even her family, if they ever knew him. A boy with dark brown hair, clearest blue eyes, and the most beautiful smile. She’s tried all the possible approaches to find the least bit of information about him but it was to no avail. No one knew him. Not even a name.

“Are you taking your medications?” Her friend asks softly “Are you still going to therapy?”

Medications. Therapy. The two things that are just as pointless as her effort in finding him. None of it works. Not even after she got bigger and bigger doses than the previous. Her sleep was always peaceful yet her mind was troubled. There was no way out. No escape from this maze.

“Yeah, I do.” She nods, lying “I’m seeing my therapist again next week.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

She smiles, looking away from her friend.

She knew that she was losing it. That the line of reality and fantasy has blurred ever since he came to her dreams. He was just a piece of her illusion. A vision of a perfect life where she shared it with him, a life where she is his and he is hers, a life where she knew his name.

You know where to find me..

—-

His hand was holding hers while the other was on the steering wheel, driving her home under the heavy rain. The night was cold but it never bothers her. Not when his warm smile and gentle strokes are here. The world could freeze to death and she would still find herself blissfully in love.

“Could you stop the car?”

The boy raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“I want to feel the rain.”

He turns to her with a growing grin before parking the car to the side of the road. Her giddy squeals erupted as she opened the car door, running out and feeling the rain drops on her skin. She was soaked in no time, showered under the rain that seems to be falling even harder with each of her laughter. Her shoes are now full of water but she couldn’t care less. She was happy.

He joins her not long after, scooping her by the waist and turning her around. They were dancing under the rain to a silent song that only the two of them could listen to. The whole world was theirs. No other pair of eyes to judge, no other mouth to question if she was sane, no other disapproving look of others. Just them two and the rain.

She clings her arms to his neck. Her vision was blurry from the water drops on her lashes but her attention was fixated on him. The way water drips from the tip of his nose, the crinkles around his eyes as he smiles, and the flush of redness on his cheeks. Beautiful would be an understatement for the sight she’s seeing right now.

“I love you!” She yells with a big smile.

“I know!” He yells back “I love you too!”

She pulls him for a kiss. A desperate, hungry one as she tries to eliminate any possible space between them. He was warm, the only source of heat in this cold night. He was her sun, her light, be it a dream or reality. She knew that she would always gravitate towards him, orbiting around him like a satellite.

The happiness he’s brought to her has always been so intoxicating. It always came like a tidal wave, washing over her with delightful electricity. Her skin burns in glory whenever they touch. Heart full and content and it was because of this pleasant hypnotic moment that she always forgot about the one thing troubling her mind— his name.

“I love you so much.” He breathes out “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

—-

“Do you still have that dream?”

She looks up to her therapist with blank eyes. The question feels like a buzzing sound in her ears. She knew what he was asking, one of the template questions he always asks, and she couldn’t care less about it. Her mind is once again stuck in a loop, playing the bits of dream that slowly dissipates to thin air.

She could still feel the raindrop on her skin, the heat of his body, the way his lips taste as they kiss under the rain. She could feel the damp feeling of her socks. How her clothes were sticking to her skin uncomfortably. She could recall the way his eyes twinkle under the road light. He was beautiful. A sight she could never erase yet unable to engrave to her memory at the same time.

“No,” She lies “I don’t dream about him anymore.”

Her therapist nods, making notes to his book, “And are the medications working well for you?”

I wouldn’t know, I never take it. “Yes.”

“Good,” He says again “I’ll write you the same medications then since it’s worked best so far.”

She turns her eyes out of the window, trying to distract her mind. She could see cars passing by, people walking and the way the leaves move from the wind. Everything seems to be so normal. So dull compared to the life she lives in her dreams. Everything is amplified there, brighter and much more astonishing than her real life. If only she could live there forever.

“Can I ask something?” She says, still looking out.

“Go on.”

“How would one know when they’re going mad?”

Her therapist’s brows furrow, “Why?”

“Just a thought.” She says with a shrug, now looking back at him “What differs a mad person’s mind than a sane one? Do they have a different world in their head?”

“Is there something you wanted to tell me about?”

She bites her inner cheek. Frustrated at the questions thrown back at her. She wanted answers. She wanted to know that she wasn’t going insane. That it was normal for someone to feel lost and empty the way that she’s feeling. That it was normal for someone to crave the touch of someone she knew nothing about. That it was normal for someone to be chasing the dream that is haunting her for the worst.

“No,” She shakes her head “Like I said, just a thought.”

Her therapist nods once again, dismissing her question. She let out a sigh, unsure if she was relieved of his apathetic gesture or if she should be offended that her own therapist gave no regards about her questions. She bites on her nail. A little part of her heart was looking forward to tonight, to feel his pleasant touch and hear his delightful laughter, but she knew that one of these days she’d succumb completely to insanity.

A price she wasn’t sure is too high to pay for.

—-

She stares at his bare back with a smile. He was still sleeping, an arm placed around her waist securely. His light snoring sounds like a beautiful lullaby that would lull her to sleep. Her finger lightly traces his exposed skin, joining the dots of his moles that seem to be a beautiful constellation of its own.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. She was mesmerised to say the least. Everything about him is just so enchanting. Like she was bewitched body and soul, having no power to fight his stirring charms. Never has she ever felt such intense emotions for someone, be it in dreams or reality.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Her smile widens as he starts to wake up, “Hello, you.”

“Hello, my lady,” He says lazily, still with closed eyes but with a growing grin to his face “You’re beautiful.”

“You haven’t even opened your eyes.”

“I don’t need to. I know that you are, you’re always beautiful.”

She let out a chuckle. Now inching closer to him, planting a small kiss to the tip of his nose that made his smile even wider. She studies his face, noticing all the beauty marks and features of his face. She knew that she’d stared at him one too many times already but it feels like the first time everytime. Feeling the same deep admiration and awe every time. He was the definition of perfection itself.

“Open your eyes,” She whispers “Let me see them.”

He did as he was told. They were so close now that their breath fans each other’s face, tickling each other as they rub their noses. His forehead now rests on hers. Her hand finds its way to his hair while he is pulling her body closer to him. Their legs were entangled together, locking each other in place.

“I love you,” He says.

She nods, smiling. He’s told her those three words for a millionth time now yet it still gives her the same butterflies as if it was the first time. She could never tire of hearing it. How melodious it sounds whenever he utters it, be it in a whisper or a shout. Those words will always be the anchor to her world.

“I love you,” He says again, giving a peck to her left cheek “I love you,” A peck to her right cheek “I love you,” A peck to her forehead “I love you,” A peck to her nose “I love you,” And a kiss to her lips.

Her heart nearly explodes. He is everything to her. The answer to all her questions, the angel to all her nightmares, the cure to all her torments. This boy is everything and more. She wishes that she could tell him. She wishes that she could tell him just how much he means to her. Perhaps then he would be willing to stay, to come out of her dreams and be in her life at last. But it was just too high of a price. To risk everything by cutting a straight line on their blurred lines. It was lovely to be laying here with him between comfort and chaos, and for now it was enough.

“I love you,” She whispers back “I love you beyond words.”

He was still smiling, now drawing circles on her back with his thumb. She feels safe in his embrace. Nothing could harm her now, no troubles would be in her mind if he’s here. He is her lifebuoy, her light in the end of the tunnel. Everything is perfect, just like he is.

But that glimmer in his eyes soon dims down, as does his smile. That apologetic look clouds his eyes once more and she knows that her time is running up. That this comfort is once again taken away from her grasp too soon.

“Please,” She begs, closing her eyes “A little longer.”

Tears were starting to form. She knew that she could only take so much of this beating. That her heart was growing weary, mind aching from all the torture. It is only a matter of time now before she completely goes mental and the only thing she fears of that outcome is if he wouldn’t be there anymore.

“We have to go.” He says softly, voice creaking from the reluctance.

She opens her eyes, staring into him that is now fighting to not let the tears fall too.

“I love you,” He whispers “You know that, don’t you?”

She nods with a weak smile.

He kisses her once more. She could feel the heartbreak in his lips. How the bitterness seemed to be poisoning them yet they couldn’t stop sucking it in. They need this, no matter how broken they would be in the end. They would do it a thousand times more even if they have to glue the shattered pieces of themselves with their bare hands.

Now he was driving her on a route that felt familiar but she couldn’t recognise still. She knew that he was taking the long way home, trying to stall time as much as he could. One of his hands is interlocking hers, giving it squeezes of assurance every now and then yet it seemed to be losing its touch tonight. The troubles in her heart seem to amplify the moment she peels herself off of the bedsheets. Tonight wouldn’t end as their previous nights, she could feel it.

“Could you stop the car?”

The boy raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“I just—” She pauses, losing her words “Please, stop the car.”

It feels like a bitter déjà vu. The car stopped on the side of the road, light illuminating them from outside, but the comfort couldn’t be further away. Before, it was filled with warmth, golden, like gazing into the first light of the sun in the morning, but now it feels distant, like a dark cloud is slowly pooling above their heads, ready to strike them with thunder.

She looks down to their hands. He was still holding her. His eyes glued on her, she could feel it without looking up. He must have that worried look on his face, how his brows would furrow and lips formed into a light frown. It pains her to know that she’s causing them this much turmoil.

“I love you,” She whispers with pain in her tone “But I’m fading.”

She could see his jaw tenses. Like the rug has finally been yanked off of his feet. He looked like he had anticipated this but was still unnerved nonetheless. He holds her hand a little tighter as if fearing that she would let go. He turned his position, fully facing her now with that pleading eyes but still remained quiet.

“It’s over, isn’t it?” She asks silently.

The boy bites his tongue.

It was an unfamiliar vile feeling. She’s never gone down this path, always going with the flow the dream wants to carry them that night, but tonight was different. She was slipping away. Her fortress was crumbling and though she wouldn’t mind sacrificing sanity for him, she knew that happy ending wasn’t on their stars.

“I love you,” He chokes out “So much.”

“I know, I know.”

He pulls her close, resting their foreheads together. His eyes were closed but she couldn’t find it in her to do the same, wanting to take in everything about him before she lost him completely. She would miss the way his nose would brush into hers, the way his chest vibrates every time he laughs, and the way his eyes would radiate so much love that she swears could fix her broken bones.

“It’s not real,” She whispers in defeat “You don’t exist.”

He opens his eyes, staring back at her as if he has so much to say but unable to let it escape his lips.

He cups her cheeks, cradling her gently and pulls her close, grazing her heart with every touch of their lips. His fingertips feel cold, burning her skin and tainting it with invisible marks. The salty taste of tears began to pollute their kiss as she couldn’t hold them any longer. He still kisses her slowly, gently savouring their last moment whilst silently praying that time could freeze itself and let them live here instead.

“Druig..”

It was as if he was stupefied. She opens her eyes, blinking to let the sudden call of his name sink in. His body froze, colour draining from his face. Everything suddenly makes sense. Like a wire was finally plugged in, the missing jigsaw falling into pieces. She knew everything now, understood everything but one.

He licks his lower lip, a habit she’s come to understand that he does when he is nervous. The boy, Druig, now looks away. He pulled away and created some distance between them. Now her heart was filled with anger and disappointment. As if she’s finally catching him red handed, busting him in such a crime she could never forgive him for.

“Druig,” She calls again, this time with a firmer tone “Why?”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Druig says, his eyes brimming with tears “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

“About what?”

He froze once more. She could see the guilt washing over him like a sticky muck. He was crying. Gone was the bright and radiant Druig, corrupted by shame and sorrow he couldn’t conceal from her. He was broken. Perhaps much more shattered than she was. The burden crushing him down was much greater than her.

Perhaps it’s true what those wise men said. With great power comes great responsibility. Great sacrifices one could never be able to pay for yet are still taken from them.

“You weren’t supposed to remember,” He croaks “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let this happen for so long.”

His eyes were starting to glow. A foreign form of fear crept into her, as if she understood where it would lead them but hardly recognised it. She places her hands to his cheeks in instinct, trying to cancel whatever it is he was ready to do. She can’t lose him. Not like this.

“Druig, please,” She begs “Look at me.”

He remains still, cold as stone.

She rests her forehead on his, begging, “Darling, please, give us just a minute.”

The glow on his eyes slowly dims down, returning the blue colour of his irises. He stares at her with a pained look. Like whatever he was planning to do hurts him physically. She could see the ache he’s trying so hard to ignore. He was always the strongest one out of them two, always the one with the stronger moral compass, but it never meant that it hurt him any less.

“I have to do this,” Druig chokes out, tears staining his cheeks.

“I know, my Love, I know.” She replies “But just give us a minute, yeah? Let me remember you for the last time.”

Druig reluctantly nods. He pulls away a little, studying her features as if he couldn’t draw her from memory. He’s lived on this planet for thousands of years, met countless people, seen millions of faces but none could ever be as significant as her. No one could ever hold half the beauty she has, hold a smidge of magnetism she has. No one could ever be as much of a weakness for him like her.

She runs her fingers to his hair, combing it gently and trying to record the feeling of each strand escaping her grasp. A sorrowful smile now decorating her face. One he likes least of her but still finds it beautiful nonetheless. It was all the both of them could really hold onto in this moment, beauty.

“I love you, Druig.” She whispers, her lips tugging into a melancholy smile that would be the death of him tonight “I love you so much that I pity you.”

He closes his eyes, trying to melt into her touch.

“I might forget all of this, but you.. You have to live with it for the rest of your time.” She cries as she holds him tenderly “My poor boy.”

Druig’s tears fall even harder. His body was trembling, trying to bottle his emotions that have certainly leaked out now. He hates how she understands him so well. He hates how she understood his pain, how it feels like she could feel the torture he’s been in eversince he erased her memory the first time. He wished that he could just take all of their pain away, make him be the only one to succumb into the ironic trope of star crossed lovers they seem to be fated in.

“I never wanted this for you.” Druig sobs “I’m sorry.”

“I know, I understand.”

He lets out a pained chuckle. She was supposed to be screaming at him, punching him and hurting him from all the pain he’s brought into her life. He couldn’t decide if the deep devotion she has for him was a blessing or a curse. It hurts him either way yet he wouldn’t wish for any other outcome.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” Druig calls, taking the hand that was combing his hair to his chest “Know that my heart beats for you, always.”

She nods, smiling, “I know.”

Druig lets out a shuddering sigh. He squared his shoulders, getting ready to do what has been demanded of him a long time ago. He flashes her a warm smile, the most genuine he could to try and help ease her worry. But she was never worried about herself, not about this. All she could think about is the loneliness that would engulf him once more. Navigating his way on this planet alone without her to hold his hand.

“Are you ready?” He asks.

She nods weakly, smiling.

He leans in with a smile, kissing her gently and tenderly. His thumb caresses her cheeks, trying to erase the tears that are still flowing down. He hoped that his touch would provide her the same comfort and love as the one she’s giving to him. He hoped that his strokes could distract her mind from the bitterness of they’re upcoming ending. He hoped that his kiss would be a good enough gesture to close their chapter.

And on that morning, she wakes up without a void in her heart for the very first time.

#druig #druig x reader #druig x you #druig x y/n #druig x oc #druig angst #druig fluff

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