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utterlyotterlyx · 8 days

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Worthy

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - After a hard day, all you need is your mate to tell you that everything is going to be okay.

Warnings - angst, self hatred, self doubt, blood, brief details of childbirth, death, fluff

For my lovely @thisiskaylin - hope this makes you feel better x

Blood.

There was blood everywhere. All over your hands, spatters on your face and neck, it clung to you like a disease.

It was meant to be worth it.

One more push, you would tell them. One more push and you get to see your beautiful baby. Just one more and it'll all be over and you can go home and raise your perfect little baby.

Just one more push.

The child wriggled in your arms, you had bundled the winged babe up in grey blanket, protecting him from the scene in front of him. A non-Illyrian woman lay before you unmoving, tears rolling down her face, fingers outstretched toward you with a vacant look in her eye. And there was blood everywhere.

Amalia had been one of your favourite patients in your career, full of life and wonder, kind and sweet and soft, she was made to be a mother. Every visit had been so positive, you had no reason to believe that she wouldn't make it. Amalia was strong and healthy, she should have made it. You had promised her it would all be alright.

But blood at pooled at her thighs, staining her cream coloured birthing gown, she had gone pale and sweaty and her lips had turned blue. The rapid rise and fall of her chest confirmed it, that she wasn't going to make it, and there was nothing your healing hands could do to stop it.

"Please. Let me see him," she had rasped to you and you sat beside her, lowering her babe to her face and letting her shaky fingers tug down at the neck of the bundle to see his face. "So beautiful."

Tears pricked your eyes, "You did so well, Amalia."

Amalia peered up at you, her icy blue eyes softening at your face, she had always called you an angel, "I did?"

Choking back tears, you ran your fingers through her lifeless blonde waves, a comforting gesture, to let her know she wasn't alone, "So well," you confirmed, "You have to name him."

"A name," her voice was fleeting, drifting away into the wind, carried by the coaxing breeze floating through the slightly ajar window, "Amias. Eternal love."

"Amias," you turned you gaze to the bubbling boy in your arms and smiled, brushing your fingers against his full cheeks, "It's perfect, Amalia. It's-" but you couldn't finish your sentence, not when you turned back to her and saw nothing, no rise and fall of her chest, just vacant tearful eyes and pale sweaty skin.

It was always a danger you had faced, losing a mother to the complications that came with bearing an Illyrian child, a thing you knew all too well from birthing Nyx. It was your specialised field of mastery, the birthing of Illyrian babes, you had saved many that would not have stood a chance without you. You were a miracle to them, even the males at Windhaven had come to treat you with kindness, it wasn't often that they were thought of, and you made them feel cared for.

The room was solemn. The team of midwives that accompanied you to all of the births you attended worked slowly and respectfully, draping the thin cloth of her bed sheet over her face after washing her skin softly with lavender soaped sponges all whilst you rocked and cooed the innocent motherless child into slumber. Handing the small thing over to one of your midwives, you sniffled, you went to wipe your face with your sleeve but froze when you saw the blood trailing up your arms and let out a small sob in response.

There was only one thing, one person, that would be able to fix you.

Windhaven was a place that Azriel hated you going to.

There was no doubt in his mind that you were the most extraordinary thing on the planet, but sometimes he wished that you had chosen a different specialty in your healing career. One that didn't make you feel so small, one that made you happy.

He knew something had gone wrong when he had sent a questioning love down the bond for it only to collide with a rock solid wall of iron clad fury. The bond only went silent when something was wrong. Every patient of yours was a friend, it was hard for people not to adore you, so it hurt you more when they left the world.

Footsteps scuffed up the pavement outside of your shared home and Azriel heard you sigh deeply before the handle turned and you stepped in.

The room was as it always was. Books, some medical and some historical, splayed across the coffee table, a fire dancing at the forefront of the room cascading the space in a golden glow, and two mugs of tea, one of which had long since had gone cold, on the side tables by your assigned spaces on the deep cobalt love seat.

Azriel scanned you for but a second before throwing his body over the edge of the seat and rushing to you. There was blood coating you, from your skirt up to your hair, your eyes were shocked and vacant, your lips were chapped and your cheeks were red and puffy. You had been crying.

Being no stranger to blood, Azriel took your hands in his and lifted them to his chest so that you could feel his heartbeat, so that you could centre yourself and bring your consciousness back to the land of the living. Then your gaze turned to him and your chest dropped, and Azriel knew what had happened, "Amalia?"

Shaking your head, you choked, "She didn't make it," tears pooled in your eyes and your face crumpled, "I promised her that she'd make it. There was no reason why she shouldn't have. I've been doing so well with the prenatal visits and the vitamins and the tonics, and she just," a sob broke through, "She just died."

Azriel ran his hands down the side of your face and continued to listen to your words, "What kind of healer am I if I can't save a woman, my friend, from the risks of childbirth? The risks I have dedicated my career to avoid? I've left a child without a mother, Az," you peered up at him, tears streaking down your face, collecting blood on their descent, "I'm a monster."

Unknowingly, you opened your side of the bond, and Azriel was flooded with your grief and anguish, your self loathing and doubt, and your all-consuming worthlessness, "Look at me, y/n. Look at me," he pulled your focus and smiled softly at you.

Azriel adored everything about you, but more than anything, he adored your kind soul and caring heart. You were the most magnificent thing he had ever come across.

The bond had snapped for him when he had been badly injured and Rhys had stormed into your little apartment above the pharmacy with Azriel strung over his shoulder. Despite your messy hair and askew nightgown, you worked endlessly to bring Azriel back from the brink, he truly believed he had entered heaven that day and that you were the one to guide him to the light.

He didn't realise that heaven could exist on earth until he met you.

It had taken months for you to release the bond between you, you were a busy thing, always researching and working on ways to save people from some of the most unavoidable events of life. One being childbirth. But during one certain sunset, when the sun was low and the sky was painted in pink and gold, did you feel that golden thread snap into place. Since then, you had been inseparable. He was your rock, the only one who could smash your soul into pieces and the only one who could put you back together, and you were his sunshine and rain, the only one who could cause him any real pain, but the only one who could clear his darkness and bring him into the light.

"None of the women you have saved would have stood a chance without you," blood covered your face like dirt, dusting but prominent, and your eyes were brimming with exhaustion, "I know it's hard, and that you feel worthless and like you're failing. But none of the women in this court could have survived without you, you are an angel, you have saved so many mothers and children that our study is bursting with gifts and flowers," you strained a smile, "I know that Amalia was your friend, I'm so sorry that you lost her, I know how much you wanted her to live."

"As much as we want to, we can't save everyone, y/n. All we can do is seek to save the next, to give another person a chance of a full beautiful life just like ours."

The obsession of non-Illyrian mothers had grown since you had accepted the bond with Azriel, you had never directly voiced why, but he knew you were trying to find a way for yourself to survive if the time ever came when you would carry his child. It was heart breaking to see it, to see you lose a patient and feel your own soul hang in the balance. It was heart breaking to know that you saw yourself as Amalia, broken and bloody and alone.

It had always been something you had wanted with him, a child of your own, with little black wings and shadows curling around him just like Az's. But you also wanted to live to see him grow. You weren't an Illyrian, which meant that you too were at risk of facing the same fate as Amalia's.

The fear in your eyes broke him.

"You are so worthy, so talented and determined that you put all of us to shame. You are the light of the Night Court, I'm just lucky that I get to bask in it daily. No wonder everyone is jealous that I get to call you my mate," a soft grin formed on his lips at your whispering giggle and he took your face in his hands, allowing his shadows to curl around your forearms and sooth the raging sadness within you, "I love you, y/n. I'm in awe of you every day. It's not easy to do what you do, to fall in love with the idea of saving people and breaking when the Mother decides to take one away. But it doesn't make you any less worthy or loved. You were put on this earth for a reason, to save people, and you will continue to do that because you are y/n, and you are my mate, and you wouldn't be you if you didn't. You save me everyday and you don't even know it."

The room had grown lighter, and the all-consuming anguish that had flowed down the bond had shifted, "Thank you," your eyes flickered across his face and your shoulders dropped.

Azriel tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and sighed, taking you in his arms and holding you tightly against his chest, "Let's get you in a bath, hm?" he pulled away and looked down on you, tilting his head and drinking in your radiant beauty despite the sadness and stains on your skin, "Then I'm going to brush your hair and hold you and kiss you until you fall asleep, and then tomorrow, you save another life."

Nodding, you exhaled shakily, pulling him back to you as he went to lead you to the bathroom upstairs, no doubt to the already full tub that was big enough for both of you, he gazed at you in question, with a furrowed brow and fingers interlinked with your own, "I love you, you know that, don't you?"

The desperation in his voice made him want to scoop you up in his arms and show you exactly how much he adored you, but you were hurting, and you needed him in a wholly different way, "I know. I love you too. So much. Let's go and soak okay? I'll tell you who Nyx said was his favourite..."

Light beamed in your eyes and you wilfully allowed your body to be pulled by Azriel's grip, "If it's Cassian, I will riot."

The rest of the evening was spent in his arms, his fingers massaging your scalp and shoulders, wrapping around you and his lips pressing into the curve of your shoulder. Azriel brushed your hair, his touch so gentle and his shadows peppering their love for you across your face. And as you drifted into slumber, the symphony of your dreams were set by Azriel's voice, a low and sultry sound, reading to you, his fingers running through your hair and lips pressing into your hair line.

Not once did he take his hands off of you. Not once did he stop muttering how loved you were. And you knew that as long as he was by your side, you were invincible.

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fayes-fics · 1 year

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Happy Birthday, Mr Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict's wife gives him the best possible birthday gift.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, masturbation, vaginal sex, massage, pregnancy.

Word Count: 3.0k

Author's Note: A more romantic fic than my usual. The sweet, soulful artist deserves to be loved and cherished. Enjoy <3

It’s midnight, and a birthday has just begun.

You pad through the house to Benedict’s studio. He is perched on a stool, busy sketching. He often works late into the night when the muse takes him. You pause in the open doorway to watch him work. Admiring his skills as he feathers his charcoal across the page. Admiring him, the movements of his artistic hands, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his braces hanging loose around his hips.

“Happy birthday, my love,” you call softly as you close the door.

“Thank you, my lo…” his answer dies on his lips as he turns and sees you.

Speechless is a good start.

Your skin feels aglow as you bask in his attention, sauntering towards him. His eyes track your every movement. His hand is still suspended in midair, charcoal in hand.

Your gown is totally sheer, the colour of your flesh, its only adornment being tiny starbursts of silver sequins that glitter in the candlelight. You feel beautiful in it, like a walking shimmering fireworks display. With a few layers of chemises, this would be a stunning ball gown; without them, it’s a scandalous sight. Everything is visible through the translucent tulle layers. And you wear absolutely nothing underneath except a dab or two of his favourite perfume.

He still hasn’t said anything, but he is breathing slightly heavily as you draw up to him, his eyes raking up and down your body. You pluck the charcoal between his fingers and place it down on his easel.

“I am the luckiest man in the world,” he exhales quietly, finally finding his voice.

Warmth blooms in your chest, and you smile fondly at his compliment, stepping between his slightly bended knees; one of his feet looped onto the stool, the other kicked out towards the easel. You set aside a little glass vial you came in holding.

“Wh…” he begins, but you hush him with a soft finger to his lips.

“Shh, you don’t need to speak tonight, my love,” you murmur, running your hands into his hair, “just feel.”

His eyes soften and give silent acceptance, and his body relaxes a notch. Even though he finds solace in his art, he’s had a long few days; you want to soothe him and bring him peace.

His soulful blue eyes watch your expressions as your fingertips trail across his cheekbones, curling inwards to brush the back of your fingers down his jawline to his chin, mapping the structure of his face. There are libraries worth of literature extolling female beauty, but you’ve found precious few pieces that capture the truth of male beauty such as his. Your thumb traces gently over his lips, and you ghost a smile as he busses gently against your digit.

You move your hands to outline the shell of his ears, passing his earlobes between your fingers, sweeping down to cup his neck, pressingly on the tension points you feel corded there. He exhales deeply, leaning into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Tonight it’s all about making him feel special, not just because it’s his birthday, but because he spends so much of his time catering to the needs of others, most of all yours, and he deserves to be indulged.

Splaying your fingers upwards around the back of his head, you enjoy running them into his thick hair. He hums contentedly as you massage lightly. Then his breath hitches as you scrape your nails lightly across his scalp, the skin around his open shirt collar erupting into goosebumps. Oh, the responsiveness is so enchanting.

You lean forward and kiss his lips softly, just a brief touch. His eyes fly open, and he chases your lips as you pull away. He pleads with the most mournful expression, so you relent and press your lips to his again. His hands curl around your shoulders, their sizeable warmth at once both centring and sending you soaring. He kisses back slowly, opening his lips slightly, his tongue requesting permission to yours. Hands still in his hair, you pull closer, deepening the kiss. His arms now slide around your back to hold you close. It’s luscious and languid. Shared breaths and gentle flirtation.

You reach down and tug his shirt up. He assists your efforts, removing his arms from around you and pulling the garment up and over his head. You catalogue the sculpted plains of his arms, chest, and stomach. He is watching your face with a crooked smile; he knows all the telltale signs of your desire. Your tongue feels thick, wanting to run over every inch. For later, you tell yourself.

His brow knits in puzzlement as you circle him, coming to a halt behind him instead. You kiss the back of his neck, running your nose up into his hair, where his natural scent is most potent. On instinct, it draws you closer; your hands curl around his biceps as you press your upper body against him. The rasp of your tulle dress against his shoulder blades hitches his breath and yours, the friction causing your nipples to pebble heavily. Knowing he can feel it too—a little tease of what else will come later.

He is listening intently as you reach for the small glass vial you came in with, opening it and pouring a little oil into your palm. Usually, by now, he would be asking what you're doing, using the velvety tone that makes your body sing. Tonight he is quiet, but one look into his eyes would say everything his lips are not.

Notes of orange and bergamot swirl into the air as you massage the oil into your hands, warming it. His inhale is a sign he recognises the scent from the hours of pleasure in your bedroom. Usually, it is him massaging your body into a blissful state before slipping his fingers inside you, making you come over and over. More derailing thoughts you need to put aside.

You begin by running the flanks of your hands firmly down either side of his spine, all the way from his neck to his waist. His moan is one of relief, not desire, but your body reacts regardless; the sudden want to be filled by him is visceral. Your lips tingle to kiss him again, but you resist the urge, focussing on bringing him serenity.

Feeling the tension easing under your fingers as you work on the knots around his neck is a mutual reward. His breath is deep and even; he shifts to place both feet flat on the floor. You spend many minutes mapping the stress points in his back and kneading the flesh until it relents into a relaxed state. His hums and sighs act as the guide for your progress. You circle back to his front when it seems he is entirely free from any strain.

“Does that feel better, my love?” You know the answer, but asking gives you a moment to indulge your heart, appreciating the blissful look on his face as he nods contentedly.

He pulls you in for another kiss and gently bites your lower lip. The room grows a few degrees warmer, a sparking feeling notching up your spine, radiating out across your skin.

You run your hands heavily up his thighs, admiring the latent power you feel underneath the material, him watching your movements. Your hands reach his hips and pause, waiting for his gaze to meet yours. Then you start unbuttoning; you know he’s not wearing anything underneath today; he often doesn’t when you are home. It’s gratifying to watch his pupils dilate as you twist your mouth into a playful pout with each button relenting.

As you reach the last button, you grin broadly, grab his hand instead, and pull him bodily across the room towards the emerald green chaise. The one you have posed on countless times for him. He trails behind you with a carefree laugh, holding up his britches with his free hand.

“No need for modesty Mr Bridgerton” you tease as you pull him to a stop next to the chaise. He raises an eyebrow and lifts his hand, his britches falling to a heap on the floor. Your gaze descends to his cock, standing proud. So familiar to you now, but every time as tantalising and thrilling as the first time he showed you his body.

“Why do you ever wear clothes?” you think wistfully. Your cheeks flush as his lopsided smile tells you you have voiced your thoughts.

“If the lady wishes, I never will again in this house”, he whispers seductively. “But only if you only ever wear this dress” His fingers trace the neckline of your gown with feather-soft touches. “Or nothing at all.” His lips find the spot just below your earlobe that makes you shiver.

“This evening is supposed to be about me seducing you, birthday boy,” you admonish affectionately, pulling your neck away reluctantly, “not the other way around.”

“By all means, Mrs Bridgerton, please continue,” using that voice he knows makes your knees weak.

“Lay down,” you whisper.

He relaxes back on the chaise, one arm tucked behind his head, with an easy smile, an innate confidence in his nudity. You wish you had his skills to capture this moment on a canvas. You take your time surveying the sight before you, shameless almost in your ogling. Ladies of good breeding are not supposed to be so lascivious, but you can’t help it when it comes to your husband. He is gorgeous to you. And, based on how heads turn when he walks into a room, you are not alone in that sentiment. Not for the first time; you consider yourself very lucky he returned your feelings.

“Penny, for your thoughts, my love,” his arm reaching for you, his fingers gently circling your wrist.

“I was just thinking I am the luckiest woman in the world,” you reply truthfully, echoing his sentiment when you walked in earlier, leaning down to kiss the hand that holds your wrist.

His smile turns almost shy, and he averts his eyes, long eyelashes fluttering as a slight blush colours his cheeks. It makes your heart melt and your pussy clench simultaneously. How he can do that astounds you. You want to wrap him in the tightest, sweetest hug but also fuck him so hard your teeth rattle. What a beautiful contradiction.

“I had all these plans,” you sigh, “but I find myself impatient for you, my love.”

“Tell me about them,” he requests, looking back up at you, his lips tugging into a playful, beautiful crooked grin.

“I planned to tease you for ages, kiss every inch of your skin from your ankles to your hair,” you reply, your gaze tracking up his body again, fingers itching to trail over his contours.

“Sounds lovely,” his voice teasing.

“Mmmm, but,” you hitch up your dress and straddle him, settling your hips on his waist, your dress fanning out over him, your fingers tracing the constellation of freckles on his breastbone, “you are too tempting, Mr Bridgerton, and I find I just want you inside me.”

“That sounds even better,” he admits, his voice rough as he grabs your knee and runs a hand up your thigh under the gauzy layers. His questing fingers slide between your legs, and you moan as he expertly flexes them against you.

You grab his forearm. “No, my darling, it’s you who gets the pleasure tonight,” you counter, gently shaking your head and pulling his hand away.

“But I want to watch you. I love your face when I do this to you,” Benedict pleads, his eyes so beseeching.

“Then allow me,” you offer with a raised eyebrow.

Gathering your dress slightly, you slide your fingers between your legs, loving the wetness you find there, all for him. You moan gently, holding his gaze as your fingers move. His grip on your thigh tightens; you intuit what he is asking for and speed up your ministrations. You bite your lip and groan loudly, not daring to break eye contact. His other hand behind his head moves to grip your other thigh; his Adam's apple bobs visibly as he swallows, and his chest rises and falls more visibly.

“I need you,” his voice breathy and low, “please…”

Your fingers slip from your body and reach behind to grab him, and he groans as you give him a few gentle pumps with your hand before shuffling backwards to line him up with your body. Watching many expressions flit across his face, revelling in his breathy anticipation, you allow his tip inside. His moan is like poetry, and you sink fractionally lower, loving how it feels when he invades your body—the insistent stretch and heat. You roll your hips, eager to envelop him but also to maintain a slow tease. He looks at you pleadingly.

“What do you need, my beautiful birthday boy?” you ask softly.

“Please, my love, take all of me; I need you,” his voice sounds so needy it makes your chest flutter.

You smile as his eyes burn into yours, then sink down, gasping at the hot, plunging invasion pulling you so taunt. The lustful noise he emits makes you pulse around him, which in turn makes him call out your name, a wanton call and response that has you grabbing his hands and placing them on your breasts. The tulle of your dress scrunches against your nipple, sequins catching against your sensitive skin and between his fingers. He slips his hand inside the neckline and grabs your naked flesh as you press into his touch and start to rock gently.

Usually, you talk to each other when you make love, whispering debauched thoughts or just communicating how you feel. But tonight, you enjoy a silent, almost psychic connection, something more sensual and decadent, staring into each other's eyes, saying everything without words. Your movements are fluid but slow and deliberate, savouring the intoxicating feel of him sliding within you.

He lifts your left hand from his body and brings it to his mouth, brushing his lips over the wedding ring you wear proudly. You mirror his actions, taking his left hand, but instead plunge his wedding ring finger into your mouth, sucking it gently, the metal of his ring knocking against your teeth as you rise and fall. Hoping to convey through your actions the depth of emotion and passion you feel for this man.

He groans and drives his hips upwards, sliding even deeper, catching against the top of your channel, your toes flexing at the pleasure that causes. You call his name, releasing his hand, your nails scratching over his abs. Something more carnal, taking you both somewhere frantic.

You surge up and down, chasing all the sensations, his hands running down your back, warm through the layers of your dress, grasping your hips and pulling your down harder into him as your fingernails drag against the ripples of his abdomen muscles. Over and over until your thighs burn, and still, you don't ever want to stop, revelling in the feeling you get every time he nudges that place inside you that makes all the exertion worth it.

You see in his eyes as he is approaching his peak, the desperation for you to join him, making you reach under your dress and touch yourself, him hissing encouragements as you do so. His voice rockets you to the edge, the sonorous rumbling through his body that sweeps you over to a place that is a kaleidoscope of bliss; breath stolen, body tensing and releasing, firing a euphoria in every fibre from your scalp to your toes. Distantly, you can hear him climaxing, his fingers a vice-like grip as his groan turns guttural, and he holds you down fiercely. All his muscles tense in rigid relief as he comes hard. He looks so beautiful in this moment, biting his lip and screwing his eyes shut, that you collapse onto him and kiss his jaw, even biting gently in a way that makes him more vocal and his grip stronger.

Then as the intensity of the moment passes, all is serene as you recover together, breaths evening out, hands laced together. These quiet moments after the passionate storm feel the most intimate—the languid caresses, soft kisses and whispered words.

“Thank you for the most wonderful birthday gift,” he sighs, sated, as you lay atop him, your head on his shoulder, drawing idle shapes on his pectoral muscle with the tips of your fingers.

“A massage and making love are not your gift, my love,” you refute quietly, twisting your head to look up into his inquisitive eyes. “You deserve those and so much more. No, your gift is something else entirely. There is a reason I dressed like this, to look like the nicest gift wrapping that I possibly could,” you explain and sit up, straddling him again.

“I will always think of you as the best gift in my life,” he chuckles happily.

“Not me, Benedict.” You grab his hand and place it on your dress, just below your belly button.

“There is a gift in here for you, my love. It will probably take another, hmm, seven months, but I think it will be the greatest gift you, and indeed I, could ever receive. A beautiful gift we made together.”

His breath catches, and his mouth opens a fraction in surprise; his eyes suddenly go glassy and soft with emotion.

“Are you with child, my love?” he murmurs excitedly.

“I believe I am Mr Bridgerton. Or should I say papa?” you smile indulgently. Suddenly he is sitting up and pulling you into an embrace with his other arm, his lips finding yours.

“This is the best gift ever,” he grins, his eyes damp, his hand cradling your still-flat belly as if it is the most precious thing in the world.

“Happy birthday, Mr Bridgerton,” you beam as you place your hand over his, “from both of us.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #1k notes #1k notes omg you guys!

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earthtooz · 1 year

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earth... i saw that anon abt rin x afterglow but hear me out... reo x sweet nothings........... WE'RE SO NORMAL ABT HIM

x : SWEET NOTHING :*+ﾟ i find myself running home to your sweet nothings.

in which: reo doesn't think he has many loveable traits. you show him otherwise.

warnings: domesticity fluff, 2k words, gn!reader, mentions of insecurity and food, pet names for the reader, there's a little angst but this is comfort, semi-unedited, semi-coherent writing sorry y'all it gets worse LMFAOOOOOOOO yolo.

a/n: this is 2k words of me purely loving reo. reo if you're reading this... hmu baby... WE ARE SO NORMAL ABOUT HIM. HERE. 2K WORDS THAT I WROTE ON A TOTAL WHIM THAT I DROPPED ALL MY DRAFTS AS SOON AS I SAW A REO ASK. this is the fastest ask i've ever whipped out. thanks for requesting :>

reo doesn’t think he has many lovable traits.

sure he’s popular, well-liked, whatever, and as much as he’s aware of how large his social circle is, reo can’t help but wonder if all of it is… just for show. that if the people around him know nothing of genuinity and dance towards him in exquisite gowns made of money, refined manners, and masks carved in ‘円’ symbols with expectations of expensive favours and luxury.

it sickens reo a little when he thinks about it. on his worse days, he thinks that it’s all he’s worth: money upon money upon money.

is there anything else he has to offer?

he returns home squeezed dry, mind racing with questions and he finds himself sinking under. everyone is up to something, everyone wants everything from him. he wonders when he’ll be able to take some of it back.

the smell of steak cuts through his thoughts, filling his nose immediately as the athlete steps foot into his apartment. reo hadn’t registered how hungry he was until now, not having had anything to eat since lunch since he thought he’d have dinner but he left before it could even be served. got too fed up of the company to stick around.

since when did he become so… picky about his company?

walking into his property, he’s greeted with the sight of you dashing around his kitchen, plating multiple things at once whilst a pan sizzled atop the stovetop. it was his favourite; ichibo steak. reo’s stomach rumbles just thinking about it.

(he has an answer to his question: since you came into his life, showing him what it was like to be loved with the same fervour that he loves the rest of the world.)

“oh my-” you abruptly say, frozen when you notice the figure in the hallway, relaxing when you register that it was just your boyfriend who hadn’t the effort to make himself known. “reo, welcome home.”

he walks over to you with a small smile ghosting his lips. “hi love,” he greets, the two of you meeting halfway in a comforting embrace, one that reo melts right into. you press your face into the cold fabric of his suit, chilled by the cold weather outside. the smell of his cologne lingers. “what a pleasant surprise.”

you part, both wearing a lovestruck grin. “i hope it’s okay, you just texted me that you hadn’t had dinner and i thought it’d be nice if we eat together. sorry for dropping in without notice.”

he doesn’t know why you’re apologising. if he came home to this sight everyday he’d be over the moon.

hand cradling your cheek, he presses his nose against yours. “‘s more than okay,” he mutters before closing the gap in a gentle yet breathtaking kiss. his heart stutters back alive, pumping wildly when he feels you, so warmly, so comfortingly, so real, smile against him.

“how was your high school reunion?” you ask, parting first. reo scrunches his face in distaste. partly at your question, mostly because he thought you pulled away too soon.

he doesn’t want to think too hard about the bar he was at not too long ago, booked out specifically for said reunion to happen. doesn’t want to hink about the people crowding around him, asking about his career as an athlete and as the ceo of such a successful company. their praise leaves a sour mark in his heart. after two hours of the same questions, he had enough.

“left two hours in. should tell ya enough.”

“aww, sorry to hear that. hope you’ll feel better over dinner.”

“babe, i already feel amazing now that you’re here.”

you giggle at his shameless flattery before patting his shoulder, a subtle way of telling him to ‘knock it off’. “go get changed and relax. i need to cook the steak before it gets past how you like it.”

how he likes it.

reo is reluctant to go, making that known as he frowns whilst his hand squeezes your waist. you push him away with a gentle shove. “go.”

“okay,” he sighs.

after five or so minutes, reo emerges, dressed down into some comfortable pajamas. dinner is prepared now and you’d taken the time to prepare some juice as well- probably the one his dietician recommended for his athlete diet. he doesn’t like drinking it, you know that, and the only time he does is when you force him to (you promise to give him kisses in exchange and the drink is down in three seconds).

he stares at it in disdain. you, knowing him too well, reads his mind and began laughing, recalling all the inside jokes you have around this pesky little beverage. “c’mon, let’s eat,” you prompt and reo doesn’t even have to think twice before complying.

dinner is simple. it’s a really random assortment of dishes, you both have a bowl of udon, a plate of veggies to share, and there’s miso soup on the side. he appreciates the effort you put into getting all the nutrients he needs despite how demanding it can be.

“thank you for the food.”

reo digs in without hesitation, humming at the first taste of a warm meal after such a cold and unforgiving night. it warms him from the inside and suddenly, all misfortunes he’d experienced tonight become nothing but forgotten memories that’ll eventually be left to rot in the crevices of his mind, outshone by the sight of your smile and affectionate gaze.

“is it good?” you ask.

it’s amazing. incredible. the best food he’s ever had because of who it was made by. he doesn’t get to express that though so he just nods viciously, glancing over at your laughing form as he slurps his udon very ungraciously.

you don’t judge. you never judge.

“i’m glad, but please slow down.”

“sorry, i’m just really hungry,” reo confesses.

“i can see. you murmur, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. he keens at your touch, putting down his bowl to drag your chair closer, his thigh now pressed against yours. you chuckle a little at his actions, flustered by the small action.

this is love, reo thinks. you’re laughing together under the bright lights of his kitchen and this is the epitome of love.

he’s home. he’s welcomed. he’s safe. he’s him. he’s loved.

dinner goes by uneventfully, save for when you needed to feed the purple-haired the juice in order for him to drink it, causing you to mock his face of disgust and reo kissing you to shut you up. after a while of talking over empty plates of food, your legs have somehow ended up in his lap whilst he mindlessly draws on your thigh. a heart, his name with yours, and quick scribbles of ‘i love you’ over and over again.

tonight was disruptful. his soul feels deconstructed, but with each passing second in your presence, he feels okay again. you strip him of his tiresome prestige and welcome him into the realm of normality, somewhere he has craved to be all his life.

you kiss his scars and leave promises on them, loving all the beautiful and ugly parts of him, parts that he had never let anyone see before you.

the yawn that escapes you ends the conversation abruptly and you hum contemplatively, lulling your head back a little to emphasise your sudden wave of fatigue.

“i should get going now, let’s wash u-”

“going where?” your boyfriend questions, grabbing your hand for the comfort of holding it and as a way of telling you that he doesn’t want you to leave.

“home?”

he tugs on your wrist. “don’t go. you’re not busy tomorrow, are you?”

“i’m not.”

“perfect. you should the night.” you should stay forever, he wants to say. one day he will; reo’ll muster the courage to ask you to move in.

in faux hesitation, you hum, raising a hand to his cheek as reo leans in to your touch. “you’ll miss me otherwise, huh? fine. i will.”

the smile he beams rivals that of a thousand suns. you wonder how you managed to be with someone as loving and adoring as reo who is willing to love you and all of your flaws. even after such a long time together, that look of awe never faded whenever he looked at you.

“i need to take a shower. care to join?” reo asks, smirking at you whilst standing up to his full height. despite the lilt in his tone, it’s devoid of any lust or ulterior motive, extending the invite to you for another chance to be close and intimate like lovers are- something he seemingly can’t get enough of.

you roll your eyes, playing off his suaveness. “you’re awful.”

“only for you.”

“i’m okay,” you reject his offer, trying not to give in to your temptations.

reo is insatiable though. “c’mon, are you sure? would be such a lovely way to end the day though, can’t you grant me that?”

as selfless as reo may be, he loves taking in return. as a business man, it’d only make sense that he’d make use of return investments. “you’ll live.”

“please?”

“fine.”

the shower doesn’t take long. you two do your night routines beside each other, reo drying your hair for you whilst gently combing through it, brushing your teeth together, and finishing with skincare. he’s close to you the whole time, bumping his hip with yours gently as he litters kisses all over your face, causing you to swat him away sometimes with a bright laugh.

it’s with a six-foot athlete clinging to your waist that you climb into bed, diving under the covers with little hesitation. reo takes the initiative of shifting himself to lie half-atop you, pressing into you with a relieved sigh as he feels your hands run up and down his back.

he feels okay again, now healed and rejuvenated once more.

reo’s too soft. he lets people in when he really shouldn’t, gets to know people too quickly, too superficially, that he never sees to far into their person before moving on. he has left trials of faces in his mind with no true attachment to any of them, none that he would make the effort to hangout with. he has been an empty void his whole life, moulding himself into versions that other people want to see.

addendum. he had been an empty void his whole life.

but now that you’re here, he has a constant to dive in. you scold him for changing too much of himself to become your perfect lover. he didn’t need to swap the roses he orders every week to freshen up his dining room to be that of your favourite colour, he didn’t need to swap the candles, shampoos, conditioners- anything else of the sort, to match your favourite scent. he didn’t need to always wear his hair up because you said you liked it that way.

no, because you love reo for reo, regardless of the ‘influences’ you had on him. you love him because he’s a great conversationalist, he’s organised, driven to a healthy degree, selfless, will always hype you up especially when insecurities become unforgiving, pulling you from the depths of your mind the same way you do with him.

all you’ve ever wanted from him was sweet nothing.

reo’ll run to you every time, no matter what. if it’s been a shitty day and he just needs to hide from the world or the best day of his life, he’ll always come to you to make it a little better.

the theory still proves true now as he nestles himself into your embrace, breathing you in with each inhale- letting his senses memorise all of you that he can, that you’ll allow.

“i love you,” is the last thing he murmurs before letting consciousness slip away, surrounded with nothing but bliss and love to pull him away. he’ll dream of you. he’s sure of it.

you and your sweet nothings that highlight every loveable trait of his.

(you'll kiss the 'bad' ones with the same amount of love too.)

#THIS IS TERRIBLE DO NOT PERCEIVE ME #i wrote with my heart and my soul not my mind #my heart and soul are overtaken by reo btw that's how it works #reo mikage x reader #reo x reader #mikage reo x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #reo mikage #mikage reo #reo fluff #reo x reader fluff #blue lock

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starrgaziinggg · 22 days

Text

begin again | hwang hyunjin

chapter thirty -> bonus chapter (wedding bells)

"SO HELP ME GOD!"

You physically jolt, awakening yourself from your slumped position on probably the most uncomfortable chair you'd ever had the misfortune of sitting on. Stretching your back out, your eyes found themselves darting towards Myeong, who was storming into the room you'd been in for the past half hour.

Despite not being a bridesmaid, you'd been roped into acting as though you were the wedding co ordinator. You didn't mind much, since it gave you something to focus on, rather than sit idly like your poor friends as they waited for Myeong to walk the isle.

"I swear to fuck, if I'm still friends with those bitches after this wedding, it will be a miracle," Myeong huffs, turning to you with an expression that could only be described as pure fury. "They've lost my damn veil. How am I supposed to walk the isle without a veil?"

You smirk at her, standing up from your slumped position on a rather uncomfortable chair and handing her the veil that you'd found discarded in the room you were currently in, presumably by Myeong's friends (and unfortunately, her bridesmaids). The stress dissipates from Myeong's face as she squeals, grabbing the veil and giving you an air kiss.

"This is why your my favourite person on this green earth," she sighs dreamily, as you take the veil she hands you and turn so you can fit it to her head. She looks at herself in the mirror beside her, fretting with her hair and smoothing down her pristine white wedding dress. "Well, except my soon to be husband, of course."

It's comical that you hear a knock on the door, Changbin's voice echoing from outside.

"Myeong?"

Myeong's eyes fill with terror as she screams, covering herself up as if that would have any effect in stopping Changbin from seeing her dress.

"NO! Fuck off, you can't see my dress!" She screams, turning to you and moving you to be in front of her. You can't help but openly laugh at the action, trying to hold it in because you just know Myeong's nervous about walking the isle in (hopefully) fifteen minutes.

"I'm not coming in, idiot. I just wanted to make sure you're ready!" Changbin shouts back, and you can practically picture his smirking laugh.

"Okay," Myeong replies cautiously, turning to look at herself in the mirror for the millionth time. "I'm almost ready!"

"Okay, my sisters coming in, by the way!" Changbin shouts again, before presumably disappearing when his sister opens the door and walks through. You loved spending time with Changbin's sister when you were kids, and you hadn't seen her in so long until you'd reunited with her (and all the other guests) last night.

Changbin and Myeong had decided to have their wedding in Jeju Island, taking control of an entire lavish hotel for the weekend. The whole hotel was decked out in decorations, and it looked beautiful, though you hadn't been able to spend much time admiring it.

"Jesus, Myeong. I adore you, but your friends are..." Changbin's sister starts, trailing off as she makes a face and can't find the words she needs. You cut in instead.

"Uptight and annoying?" You finish, looking at Myeong with a laugh. You two had bonded over how incompetent her bridesmaids were over the last couple months.

"Precisely," Changbin's sister winks, moving her long brown hair behind her ears. Her short dandelion yellow dress was absolutely gorgeous, and she looked beautiful, though you knew she'd be a balling mess as soon as she saw her little brother standing at the altar.

It was nothing on Myeong's dress, though. Her extravagant white gown had cost a pretty penny, but it was so worth it. Unlike the ballgown you thought she'd opt for, she had decided upon a form fitted, satin gown, paired with the most gorgeous silver heels you'd ever seen - she looked like a princess. Her hair was down, the front pieces pinned back with diamonds, and you may or may not have shed a tear when you saw her after you'd gotten ready yourself this morning.

"Do I look okay?" Myeong asks, turning to look between both you and Changbin's sister. "Tell me the truth. If I don't, it will just ruin what's supposed to be the best day of my life, no biggie."

You don't know whether to laugh or cry at poor Myeong, opting to give her an air hug instead. No way would you ever risk making a mark on her dress, not after she'd spent the last five hours getting ready. Yeah, five full hours. She'd been up since four in the morning, and you reckon she'd be out like a light by nine pm latest.

"You look absolutely beautiful," you say honestly. She looks up at you with her big Bambi eyes.

"Really?"

Changbin's sister hums, looking Myeong up and down and nodding approvingly. "I would put thousands on the fact that you're the most gorgeous person currently on earth."

Myeong cracks a smile at that, taking a deep breath, focusing her attention on Changbin's sister to ask her, "Did you need me for something important or did you just want to hype me up before I walk the line?"

"Actually, I came to get her," Changbin's sister points a thumb at you, turning to face and talk to you directly. "You're boyfriend is getting worried Myeong's murdered you or something, and he wont shut up, so please come and...I dunno, shut him up?"

You laugh, knowing Hyunjin is probably whining like a baby without you. Even after months of dating, he was still as clingy as ever.

"Sounds like Hyun," you turn to Myeong. "Shall I get your dad? He should be waiting in the room with your bridesmaids and Chan, and I think they could both use some saving right about now."

"Yes, yeah," she says, smiling. "God, dad's going to ball his eyes out when he sees me. Tell Chan he only needs to spend ten more minutes max with them, and go kiss your boyfriend since I can't kiss mine until he's my husband."

You blow her an air kiss, letting Changbin's sister take your wrist and lead you into the other room. Chan practically jumps at you as the door opens, moving away from the three girls trying to drag him into conversation to his left. Changbin's sister goes to Myeong's dad, letting him know she's ready for him to see her and prepare to walk the isle, before heading through to the main room where everyone is waiting.

"Fuck me," Chan hisses, widening his eyes as you walk over to him, looking dashing in his black suit. "Once Myeong and Changbin are married I hope I never see those girls again."

"That makes two of us," you chuckle. "You ready for your big moment?"

"Oh yeah, I'm under strict instructions from Dambi on how I should walk with her down the isle," he groans quietly, trying to avoid the prying ears of the three girls behind him. You chuckle at him, patting his shoulder. "I'm not kidding. She made me practice synchronising our steps like a billion times."

"Just think about getting to spend the rest of the day with Jaehwa and everyone," you remind him, watching as his face lights up at the mention of his girlfriend. He gives you a quick side hug, careful not to muck up your dress.

"Bets on that Hyunjin is whining like a baby about missing you?" He laughs, letting you go to where you needed to be - sitting on your bench, beside your boyfriend and the rest of your friends.

"Oh, he already is," you smile, watching Chan roll his eyes. "That's why I've been sent away."

"He's so whipped," Chan laughs, shaking his head as you leave the room, following the rows of flowers and decor to the room holding all the guests. You try to make your entrance as discreet as possible, since you'd be the last person to enter the room until Myeong's big moment, but of course as you walked down the isle to the front of the room, all eyes were on you.

They instantly turned around again, clearly disappointed you weren't the bride, and you chuckled to yourself as you neared the third bench from the front, where Seungmin, Jeongin and Hyunjin were staring at you. Changbin, who had already made his way to the altar, standing up at the front and facing you all, rolls his eyes at you with a smile. You slide into the bench beside Hyunjin, watching as Jisung turns to look at you from the bench in front of you.

"Way to ruin the moment," he scoffs. "Just as we finally thought Myeong was ready to get this show on the road, and it's you."

"I think my ass has lost all feeling," Felix contributed to the right of him, just as Minho turns behind him from Jisung's left to look at you all. "You look pretty, though."

You smile warmly at him, trying to flip Jisung off in a low-key way, since your mother (and all of the boys, minus Hyunjin's and Minho's, as they were both swamped with work and couldn't get the time off) were a couple rows behind you. Hyunjin absentmindedly places a hand on your knee and squeezes gently, giving you a grin.

"Took her long enough to get ready," Jeongin scoffs. "I wanted to take photos with her before Myeong took her away all morning and she didn't get out the room until 8am."

"That definitely wasn't because she was getting ready, Innie," Minho says, giving you and Hyunjin a smirk and an eyebrow wiggle.

"Getting undressed, more like," Seungmin adds cheekily. You reach past your boyfriend to swat at him, shooting Minho a pointed glare.

"At least Hyun will stop crying like a baby now," Jeongin rolls his eyes, to which your boyfriend only sends him a grin, making Jeongin fake gag.

"Shut up, all of you," you hiss. "Not in the place of worship."

"This isn't even a church," Jisung points out with a roll of his eyes. "We're in a fucking hotel."

"No swearing, either!" You add, nodding your head backwards to the rows where your mothers were enjoying catching up with one another after years apart.

"Sheesh," Felix groans. "When I get married, I'm letting everyone start drinking as soon as the sun comes up and saying my vows in two seconds, none of this waiting around crap."

"I fear for your non existent future partner," you say with a tilt of your head.

"I think it's romantic," your boyfriend speaks up, a love struck look plastering his face. He rests his head gently on your shoulder. "When we get married, I'd like to do it the traditional way. You know, all drawn out, in a church with big windows..."

"All in favour of not going to Hyunjin's wedding say aye," Seungmin starts, followed by a chorus of 'ayes' from your friends. You'd either laugh or scold them if you weren't still reeling from the fact Hyunjin referred to his wedding as yours, too.

You don't get the opportunity to scold them, though, since the music starts and the large hotel room is silenced. You all turn in unison, watching as Chan starts walking down the isle with Dambi by his side. Jaehwa was annoyed to be missing the ceremony, but she'd had a modelling job for Dior (yup, jealousy was a disease and you were highly infected) yesterday, which meant she couldn't get a flight until early this morning. She'd be arriving in the next hour or so to join everyone for lunch and the celebrations following.

Chan sends you all a wink as he passes you, followed by the next two girls and the men accompanying them - Myeong's two brothers. The girls don't even so much as shoot a glance in your direction, which you're honestly thankful for.

Changbin shakes his hands out, clearly nervous, before Chan nudges his shoulder once he reaches his right. You already feel the tears coming, unable to keep stable in this situation. You know there's a couple minutes until Myeong walks, as she comes down during a certain part of the song, so you lean towards Hyunjin, Jeongin and Seungmin.

"Who's the first to cry, Changbin's sister or his mum?" You whisper, nodding towards them both in the first bench in your row.

"You, judging by your watery eyes," Seungmin chuckles quietly, raising an eyebrow. Hyunjin frowns lovingly at you, a sparkle in his eye as he brings a hand up to your face and places a finger in the corner of your eye to remove the tears.

"At least hold out until they say their vows," Jeongin grins, shaking his head at you. The music picks up to the part where you know Myeong starts walking, so everybody starts standing up. After what seems like a minute of silence, but could only have been a couple seconds, Myeong and her father walk into the room.

Myeong's smiling brightly, from ear to ear, and you only take your eyes off of her for the smallest second to see Changbin's reaction. He's trying so hard not to, but you watch as he sheds a tear and laughs it off, shaking his head with a smile as he watches his soon to be wife walk towards him. Myeong's dad kisses her cheek before taking his seat, and soon after Myeong is standing at the alter, facing Changbin.

Thankfully, the vows are quite quick, but super emotional. You're in tears, the guys are holding back sobs - even Minho's lip trembles at one point. It's the first marriage of your friend group, almost as if signalling the end of your childhood. You, Hyunjin and Chan were in serious relationships, everyone was content with their jobs...you weren't all kids anymore.

You think back to your teenage years - boisterous Changbin who made it his mission to keep a smile on everyone's faces. To watch him place a ring on his wife's finger was so fulfilling, and you couldn't have been happier for him and Myeong.

"And with that, I pronounce you husband and wife," the officiant smiles. "You may now kiss the bride."

Changbin grins before swooping Myeong into his arms, kissing her dramatically. Everyone stands to clap and cheer, and you watch Chan's tears fall as he smiles at them. At this point, you're a mess - makeup definitely ruined. Hyunjin is balling beside you too, pulling you into his side and patting your hair gently.

Myeong and Changbin walk back down the aisle hand in hand, an upbeat love song playing to their exit, accompanied by the continuous noise of the guests. It's at that point you all file out of the room, bounding up to the newly weds to say your congratulations.

Myeong hugs you tightly, finally allowing herself to cry. "I'm married! I'm actually marrried!"

You laugh the tears, smiling brightly at her when you pull apart. "I know! You're the most beautiful bride I have ever seen."

She swats at you, blushing nonetheless. "Thank you for everything you've done to help me today, I genuinely don't know where I'd have been without you."

You roll your eyes at her lovingly, pulling her in for one last squeeze before she's ushered away in all the commotion. It's Changbin you turn to then, pulling him towards you. He wraps his arms around you before ruffling your hair.

"You idiot! I took one look at you sobbing in the crowd and I was a gonner," he scolds you, a smile plastering his face.

"I couldn't help it!" You fret back, wiping under your eyes haphazardly. "You and Myeong looked so happy, and your vows were so cute."

"Yeah, well, I've had them written since our third date, so," he grins, and you shake your head with a smile. He's pulled away by your mother then, her pinching his cheeks and cooing as he accepts it openly.

"Our Changbin, all grown up," she smiles, patting his cheek. "You're going to be an excellent husband, my darling."

And that sets you both off again, Changbin giving your mother a hug after not seeing her in so long. It's at that point Myeong claps her hands, letting everyone know that food will be served in an hour and the bar is open for drinks in the meantime. She winks at you, which you take as your queue to follow her upstairs and fix up both of your destroyed faces.

You find Hyunjin in the large crowd, his newly dyed bleach blonde hair sticking out in the crowd, letting him know you'll be back down soon.

"You're leaving?" He says instantly, concern on his face. You laugh at him, rolling your eyes.

"My mum isn't going to grill you, Hyun," you say, knowing exactly why he's been so worried about you being away from him this trip. Obviously, Hyunjin had met your mother many a time, yet he'd been nothing but a ball of stress about formally introducing himself to her.

Since you'd all been rushing about like headless chickens with the wedding preparations, you hadn't been able to properly catch up with your mum, save for a very teary eyed greeting and the promise to tell her everything since you'd last seen her. This also meant Hyunjin hadn't been able to meet her as your official boyfriend, which you'd tried to convince him would be fine, but your dramatic as ever boyfriend didn't believe.

You give him an encouraging thumbs up before Myeong's dragging you to her room, the two of you chatting excitedly about the reception as you reapplied your makeup. She's all smiles and excitement, and you take the opportunity to get some pictures just the two of you before you're rejoining the wedding party.

Everyone's milling around the bar, or already sitting at their assigned tables. You knew the seating plan had you, Hyunjin, your mum, Jeongin, Seungmin and their mothers on it, and to your surprise your boyfriend, who had been a bundle of nerves not half an hour ago, was sitting with a glass of champagne in hand, talking your mums ear off.

You shake your head, smiling at the scene of just the two of them at the table, walking towards them and giving your mum a hug before taking your seat in between them.

"My baby has finally joined us," your mother says, patting your knee gently. "Now, Hyunjin here was telling me all about your trip to America!"

She looks back at him expectantly, so he continues his story, shooting you an excited glance.

"I was just talking about how my mom has been desperate for us to visit again," he informs you, before directing his attention back to your mum. "It's my sister's birthday next month, and she's specifically asked us to fly out to visit. My mom was also wondering if you'd like to join us? She hasn't seen you in so long, and now that we're together, she wants to be able to spend time with you."

Your mum claps her hands in agreement. "Oh I'll be there! I've never been to the states, and I have missed your darling mum," she grins at you, tilting her head. "Aren't you lucky to have a millionaire boyfriend!"

"Mum," you whine, rolling your eyes at her. Hyunjin only chuckles.

"No, I know, I'm only teasing. Honestly, I knew the two of you would end up together. Your mum said the same thing, Hyunjin. And Chris kept me in the loop," she winks, and you both want to murder Chan for being a little snake and jump up and down with joy because of how clearly your mum accepted Hyunjin as your boyfriend.

Your happiness was short lived, however, as Jeongin and Seungmin walked up to your table.

"Why the hell have we been stuck with the lovebirds," Jeongin groans, which your mum slaps him gently for. He yelps dramatically, laughing at your mum as she pretends to be mad at him.

"Now Jeongin," she says adoringly. "You will find your perfect person one day! Don't let your recent romantic failure make you so miserable."

Seungmin snorts as Jeongin sends you a pointed look. "You told her about me being stood up by that girl I was seeing?"

You hold your hands up in defeat, laughing loudly when he pretends to punch you after your mum excuses herself to stand with Jeongin and Seungmin's mothers at the bar.

"You two are sickening," Jeongin says, taking his seat and sticking his tongue out. Hyunjin rolls his eyes at him, placing an arm around your chair. "It physically pains me."

"I don't hear any complaints about Changbin and Myeong or Chan and Jaehwa!" You point out. "Why is it always us that gets the brunt of your abuse?"

"Well for one, because it's Changbin and Myeong's wedding day, so they're allowed a free pass," Seungmin informs you. "And Jaehwa isn't here."

"Wrong!" You head Jaehwa say, which you whip your head around at. She bounds up to you as you stand up, hugging her and admiring her gorgeous pale blue midi dress. You'd both gotten to know each other well over the past months, and she'd quickly become one of your favourite people. You were so thankful the guys had good taste in girls, because it meant you had gained two best friends.

"You look incredible! How was Dior?" You ask after giving her a squeeze. She 'ah's in adoration, swooning at the thought.

"Phenomenal, I'm truly so lucky! How was the reception? I was gutted to miss it," she sighs, quickly waving hello to the boys.

"Beautiful, of course," you answer, to which you hear Jeongin mutter 'long' and Seungmin sigh 'drawn out' under their breaths. You shake your head at you friends, coaxing Jaehwa over to your mother. "Mum, this is Chris's girlfriend, Jaehwa. Jae, meet my mum."

The two woman share a hug, your mum gushing at how beautiful 'my darling Channie's girl' was. You take a seat beside Hyunjin, all smiles.

"So? Not as scary as you expected?" You ask him, tapping his leg with your foot. He grins in response, shaking his head.

"Nah, easy peasy. Older women love me," he smirks cockily, clapping his hands. "She's already started calling me 'son'."

You roll your eyes, saying goodbye to Jaehwa who goes to find her boyfriend, standing amongst a group of people and chatting their ears off.

"What do you guys want to drink?" Seungmin asks, to which your mum scoffs at.

"Don't you worry yourself, I'll get us some drinks," she reply's, cooing at your younger friend and standing up instantly, making her way over to the bar.

"I forgot how nice your mum is," Seungmin chuckles, shaking his head. "She's like God reincarnated into a beautiful middle aged woman."

"Don't tell her that, it'll go straight to her head," you respond with a smile.

"I forgot how stressful weddings are," Jeongin sighs. "I feel like this is the first time I've sat down since we arrived in Jeju."

You nod. "God tell me about it, I'm so ready for a damn drink."

It's at that moment your mum returns, two bottles of champagne in hand, which you all crack open and pour yourselves hefty glassfuls. Seungmin and Jeongin's parents join you, already tipsy and cooing at how cute you and Hyunjin looked together.

"I've heard my son has made a pretty penny from betting on your relationship,"Seungmin's dad teases, which Seungmin looks all too proud at.

"Easy money dad. These fools really thought I didn't have a clue they were together the entire time."

"It was a lucky guess!" Your boyfriend interjects, scowling at the younger man.

Seungmin's mum swats at him, making Jeongin howl with laughter. You and Hyunjin just shake your heads at each other, your mum smiling away.

"I don't know what's so funny," Jeongin's mum interrupts, her gaze set on her son. "I heard you'd lost out on a tonne."

Jeongin groans. "Don't remind me."

After more gossiping and catching up, everyone takes their seats and the food arrives. They'd spared no expense, hiring a renowned caterer, which you thanked the gods for. It was safe to say there wasn't a plate on your table that hadn't been licked clean.

Once your dessert had been successfully demolished, you hear the tapping of a glass, turning to Chris who's standing at his table.

"Oh god, here we go," Seungmin rolls his eyes.

"Hi everyone!" Chan starts cheerily, microphone in hand, instantly capturing everyone's attention as the room falls silent. "I'd like to start by thanking everyone for coming today, especially those of you that had to travel a ridiculous amount because a certain someone had always dreamed of a Jeju wedding."

Myeoung scowls at Chan, earning a laugh from the crowd.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm kidding - you've done a beautiful job, Myeong. I think we can all agree this has to be one of the most spectacular weddings we've attended."

The crowd hollers in response, and you clap alongside them, grinning up at your best friend.

"I'll keep this relatively short and sweet, since long wedding speeches are killer and nobody wants to hear me drone on for hours, despite how much I could talk about two of my favourite people.

I'd like to call myself a bit of a matchmaker, though for some reason my glorious group of friends and I all seem to have had ridiculously bad luck in the romance department. Sorry guys," he grins cheekily, which your friends all scowl at.

"However, saying that, recently things have started to look up. When Myeong and Changbin started dating, I thought 'this is it, they're meant for each other', and although the many dates I'd set up for Changbin had ultimately failed, and my title as matchmaker was in the dust, I couldn't have been happier.

Changbin has always been the mood maker, the class clown - the one that ultimately held us all together. He's an amazing person and," he directs his gaze to Changbin's parents. "You've done an incredible job raising him. I wouldn't be who I am without him today. Not only is he the best music producer CBH entertainment has ever seen, he has always looked on the bright side of life, no matter what was thrown his way.

So when I was introduced to the first girl that had ever managed to tie our boy down, I knew she was the one for him. Myeong compliments Changbin's energy completely, whilst simultaneously keeping him on his toes."

Myeong giggles at this, pinching Changbin's cheek, to which he swats at. You feel the tears welling up again, and Hyunjin pats your knee lovingly.

"Myeong is phenomenal. She's beautiful, hilarious, and the perfect person for our Bin. I truly am so thankful for your presence in his life, Myeong. And I know he will treat you like a goddess, because he worships the ground you walk on."

"Stop making me sound so sappy!" Changbin interjects, which you laugh at.

"Right, okay, sorry mate!" Chan laughs, shaking his head. "Anyway, it's obvious they're perfect together. And as sad as it makes me to see us all growing up - like, what the hell, Bin, you're married!"

The crowd chuckles once more as you feel the tears fall.

"I couldn't be happier for our newly weds. You both truly deserve the best of the best. So, before I start to full on bawl my eyes out, let's toast to the happy couple. To Changbin and Myeong!"

Everyone repeats the words, clinking their glasses together and clapping for Chan. He'd always had a way with words, and you genuinely couldn't wait to hear what he came up with whenever you and Hyunjin got married.

"Man, these idiots need to stop making me cry," Hyunjin laughs, clearing the tears away from his eyes. "My face is all puffy now."

"You still look handsome as ever," you grin, mimicking has action and checking your makeup in your phone camera. "God, I just can't get a grip of myself today!"

"Yeah, you two need to wise up," Seungmin teases. "When you guys get married, you probably won't even be able to say your vows over the sound of you both hysterically crying."

You punch him in the shoulder for that one, but you don't get the chance to make an equally as irritating remark back as you're hauled off of your seat and pulled onto the dance floor by Myeong.

The party hits full swing, all of your friend group dancing to the music the DJ was playing without a care in the world. You took it in turns to bust out your best moves, Changbin twerking as Myeong filmed, Jisung hitting the whip and nae nae so furiously he almost pulled a muscle, Felix full on breakdancing until Minho gently pushed him to the ground with a laugh.

For hours you guys stayed like that - taking photos together, drinking your stresses away. It was bliss. Pure, genuine bliss to be dancing and laughing with your friends, Hyunjin by your side. Amidst an argument between Minho and Seungmin about who was the best at doing the moonwalk, Hyunjin gently tugged on your arm and led you outside for a breather.

The hotel sat directly on the waterfront, a gorgeous balcony lining the side of the large room you were all in. It was beautiful, lights shining onto the gently rippling water and the sounds of laughter and happiness echoing from inside.

You were both sweating at this point, out of breath and in stitches from laughing with your friends. He pulls you into his lap as he takes a seat on a bench, you making yourself comfortable in his embrace.

"I think I'm the happiest I've ever been," Hyunjin says quietly, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder. You hum in agreement.

"Everything went so perfectly. It's been the best day," you smile down as him, placing a hand to his cheek and placing a chaste kiss to his lips. "I hope our weddings as lovely."

"You know, you talk a lot about our wedding for someone who is not engaged," Hyunjin laughs, earning himself the daggers from you.

He smiles all the same, thinking about the sparkling diamond ring sitting in a box, hidden away in a secret location back at your guys' apartment. He'd picked it out a week after you'd started officially dating, not a question about it. After FaceTiming Chan a billion times to show him ring after ring, his eyes had landed on the one he ended up choosing and all he saw was you.

He knew you didn't care about how he'd propose, you never did for things like that. Whether it be snuggled up in bed after binging a drama, or at your work office (which you had successfully christened, almost immediately after you'd finished placing your items at your desk. They were subsequently knocked off and Hyunjin did have to replace half of them) - you'd say yes to him in a heartbeat.

But, Hyunjin was a traditional man. He'd ask you after meticulous planning when the time was perfect. He was old fashioned like that. God forbid there wasn't an event of grandeur attached to him placing a ring on your finger to let the world know you were forever his.

"You know what I mean," you mumble, snapping Hyunjin back into the present. Hyunjin chuckles in response, tightening his embrace around you.

"I love you," he says then, making you smile. You place another kiss on his lips, your thumb rubbing circles around his cheek.

"I love you more."

"Factually inaccurate," he says immediately, which you giggle at, knowing it was a competition you'd never win. Hyunjin loved you, you loved him - it was known. Your friends could tease you to their hearts content, but it was obvious they loved the two of you together.

After a series of horrific dates (courtesy of Chan), a fake dating scenario that left your brain in a state of mush, a secret that almost ruined the blossoming romance between the two of you and finally throwing caution to the wind - you had him. You were together, and you'd be damned to ever let him go.

It was always him. And for him, it was always you. Right from the minute he laid eyes on you as a teenager. He could curse Chan a thousand times over for keeping you from him back then, but Hyunjin knew everything worked out the way it was supposed to. He'd never let anything come between the two of you again.

You'd began again, and this was it. The happy forever.

low and behold. After like, two years the final chapter is complete. This story is my baby, the first thing I'd ever written and completed. It started as a story I wrote to occupy my time over a boring summer. It turned into a community of people on tumblr and Wattpad who I cherished interacting with, and who loved this story as much as I did. I read every single comment, and they all make me grin from ear to ear. You lot are fucking funny.

I want to thank you for taking the time to read this, and to anyone who has interacted in a positive way, I adore you. I hope this is a nice ending. I think it is.

Peace and love

#stray kids #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #jeongin #lee know #skz #felix lee #han jisung #bang chan #Changbin #seungmin #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin fluff #stray kids hyunjin #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut

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softshuji · 1 year

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12:18AM | HAITANI RINDOU

Title: My Knight In Shining Armour

Summary: It's Rindou's last night with you before your marriage, perhaps it's time to for you and your bodyguard to get some truths off your chests. (This is part of @orchid3a royal au collab, the link to which is here) link to my masterlist here!

cw: afab!reader, references to Greek myth, petnames (princess, my lady), some suggestive content, angst with little comfort, mentions of an arranged marriage, reader and Rindou are simps. Likes and reblogs appreciated!

You think destiny is a fickle and funny thing and perhaps it always has been. Perhaps the heroes of the stories said the same thing, raged insults at the same moon and the same sun as they flew towards it. At the same problems that persisted no matter how far in the future they were. Perhaps those stories should serve as a comfort to you now, their lessons immortalised as legends.

Every human believes they’re above it all, believes the laws of nature apply to everyone that isn’t them. You’re no different. You think of Medusa crying to Athena in the temple, a life’s worth of rage at the Fates that had cackled as they wove the fabric of her story, golden threads held between crooked fingers. You think of Achilles holding Patroclus’s dead body, his sights set on Hector with a vitriol that was almost godly, almost divine, enough anger to rival the sun.

Should it bother you this much? That you’ll be wed to a man you’ve never met in under a week, Queen to a people who will find fault in every action. Should it bother you that you’re denied the happy ending that the Princesses in the stories always get? You know you’ve no right to complain like this, that you’ll be waited on, servants and maids who would rather die than disobey and it makes an ugly shame pool in your stomach.

‘The moon is beautiful tonight, is it not?’ You say, and your hand holds up your chin on the white windowsill, your gown falling over the lip of the bench and catching the eaves of moonlight that spill through the glass.

‘Princess?’ Rindou says. He steps closer into the slice of light that illuminated the marble floor, the clink of his armour brushing the soft wool of your shawl, before following the line of your sight. ‘Yes. Yes it is.’

He looks beautiful like this, with the moonlight slicing through the stained glass, falling through the thin wisps of his silken hair, blue and lilac, lavender and stars and the burnished honey of his skin swallowing the light like it belongs to him. It does, it feels like it does. His armour is unblemished, it always has been. He takes great care to appear his best to you, strong and worthy and capable and willing to take your hand when you stand and he thinks, no he knows, this is just his duty. He is your Knight, your bodyguard in all things.

‘I don’t think we’ll ever have nights like this when I leave will we?’ Your lips part and a sigh drips past your lips, despairing and achingly full of the years that sit between you. It’s true, you know that, you’ve a lifetime of learning etiquette and social grace and you’d be remiss to assume that things can stay the same. In your new life, Rindou will not be welcome like he is now, the moon to your sun, the light of your eyes, the comfort of your heart.

There will never be nights overlooking the veranda, sitting in some nook or corner with his legs brushing yours. The library has always been your favourite place to stay, the two of you overlooking the gardens conspiratorially, like lovers tittering in the corner at a ball. He talks often and much when he is alone, the silences permeated by the creak and whine of wind leaking through the gaps in the windows, draughts that make the hairs on your arms rise. And Rindou will always pull the shawl a little closer around you, always click his tongue affectionately and you find that those moments are the ones you enjoy the most, when he is closer than normal, his calloused knuckles achingly close.

It’s wrong.

It always has been. You’ve never spoken about it, and you have no plans to confess that what you feel for him is anything other than a royal sense of duty, that the longing looks and smiles reserved just for him are anything but the same grace you would extend to anyone else, anyone who wasn’t him.

‘No, I don’t expect we will.’ He shifts his legs, knees brushing yours as he sits on the bench, his broad chest hunkered by the clink and clamour of armour that he feels is too loud in the otherwise silent library. ‘You’ll be very preoccupied when you leave, you’ll have a husband to spend your time with instead.’

It aches somewhere he thinks his heart should be, the knowledge that another man will get to touch you, hold you, hear you, in every way he can only dream of, that the locked doors of his fantasies will be lived by someone who isn’t him. A man whose face he’ll only ever see from a distance but will share your bed and slide his hands over your skin and it burns him with a jealousy that’s red and hot and pulses with pain in his chest. In his daydreams, you are his, he belongs to you and he finds that he settles into that life easier than expected. Loving you, and being loved by you, is not as hard as he assumes it would be and the domestic bliss comes easily to him. He lets down his walls on occasion and you welcome him, as you always have done, with open arms and he rests his head on your chest and listens for the soft and reassuring pattern of your heart.

But it’s a dream, it will always be a dream.

It’s almost thrilling in some sinful way, to have you to himself like this, your attention that he so often shares with others, reserved for him when you are bare of your jewels and gowns, the thin slip and slide of your sleeping gown that kisses at your skin in a way that makes the heat burst along his neck. He imagines he is not the first, and he certainly doesn’t expect to be the last to long for you in such a way, to want to feel the push and pull of you against his chest, to rest you there with your hair tickling at his throat, to want to keep you for himself. Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier for him though, to watch the suitors line up in brocade suits, lecherous grins concealed by masquerade masks and blithe smiles, their lips lingering for a second too long on your hand and your amicable smile twitching with a flicker of annoyance only he can see.

But it’s wrong.

It always has been, and no amount of self-denial can convince him that what he daydreams about in the locked corner of his mind is anything but sinful, anything but wrong. You are his Princess, and he is just your Knight and if his destiny is to trail after you forever, like night and her train of stars, just to bathe a little longer in your warmth, be the recipient of your reserved smiles, then he is content just to do that.

‘What if I didn’t want to go, Rindou? What if I don’t want this?’ You say, and your whisper fogs up the glass from where your lips purse as you hold your chin in your hands. You know that is wrong too, that this is your duty just like all things are, that love is fickle and duty is forever and love is to duty what poison is to fruit.

Rindou softens and his hand almost touches your knee on instinct before clenching his fist with anxiety and a longing that makes him sick. ‘I’m sorry Princess. I can’t pretend to know how that feels, only that I think you should do what you feel is best for you.’

‘I’ll have to leave you behind, do you know that?’

‘I do.’

‘You’re not bothered by that? By the fact that we’ll never see each other again?’

He swallows and breaks your stare, lets the violet hue of his eyes fall onto the rosebush that’s cloaked in darkness, petals viridescent in the light. A muscle feathers in his jaw and a frown creases the perfect smoothness of his forehead and you have the sudden urge to soothe it with your thumbs, curl your fingers along his cheek and swipe his lips to watch them part for you. He resists the urge to look back at you, at your eyes that catch the light, the stained glass that makes your skin glow with warmth.

It’ll eat him at first, the absence of you that’ll gnaw at his stomach will force him to push himself further. He knows how it’ll be, pushing himself further in training, in work, in anything and his Brother will hope that he can push a few girls his way in the hopes of helping him forget and Rindou will wait eagerly for the letters which will never come. And the girl that will never come with it.

‘I am Princess.’ He curls his fingers around his sword hilt, licks his drying lips and all the while, his eyes rake over the rosebush in bloom, budding petals drifting to the ground, where they kiss the specks of sand and leaves that litter the veranda. ‘But it’s your duty, just like looking after you is mine.’

And maybe, if it could have been some other way, in some other world where he is not him and you are not you and there are no such obstacles. Maybe in that world he is just a boy in love with a girl and you are his only, the truest example of lovers under the sun. He would find you if it existed, if there was such a thing as a world where you could meet as anyone but who you are. Perhaps he could kiss you freely there, with a hand around your back like the suitors do, better than they do in fact, because he knows he loves you enough, loves you more, to the point of pain in fact.

You turn to him, brush your knees against his and Rindou’s heart smashes against his ribs. ‘Do you ever wish it wasn’t? That we could just…run away?’ you say, indulging the daydream in a way that you know is impossible, that it’s dangerous to even suggest, improbable and bordering on treasonous, wrong in every sense of the word.

‘Princess?’ he says and his chest aches, burns and tightens with that familiar longing for you all over again and the pain is both delicious and agonising as your knees press against his, the moonlight falling on the exposed sweep of your collarbones peeking from beneath your gown.

It’s your last night with him, you know this, you have known for weeks. Does the knowledge make it any easier? Does knowing that he’ll eventually find another girl make it easier or harder for you? Does knowing that another man will touch you in the way you have both knowingly and unknowingly reserved for him make it any less painful?

‘We could,’ you say eventually, although your heart isn’t in it, and maybe you say it because it’s soothes the pain to indulge in it, the fantasy of the two of you in a house somewhere, where everything is safe and your heart lies in his palm, secure and loved and cradled.

‘You know we couldn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘We’d be found, you’re a Princess and I’m just-’

‘Don’t. Don’t ever say that.’ You grab his wrist and your thumb finds the sharp incline of his palm and you press a painted finger into the space there, stroke it achingly slow, feeling the calloused skin underneath. You wonder at all it has seen, all the blood that’s splashed over onto his fine and polished armour, the horrors that he has witnessed, both at your behest and not and it burns that you can’t take it from him and cradle his head to your chest and give all the love you both feel and think he deserves.

‘It’s true though,’ he says and his hand comes to rest on top of yours, brushing your knuckles free of scars, tiny clefts and indentations he wishes he could explore given the time, to marvel at the ridges and veins that swim underneath. ‘It would never work, you know that Princess. You needn’t suffer over something that was never going to happen.’

He says it for the both of you, knowing it won’t help either way to assuage the thunderous ache that builds in his stomach when he thinks of someone else having you undeserved.

‘Do you think… it worked somewhere else?’

He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, the soft wisps of fine hair slipping over the silver of his armour, curling at the hollow of his throat.

‘What do you mean?’

‘If we met again, somewhere else, you’d find me right? You’ll always find me.’ You hope it’s true, that maybe he reaches across time and fate to find you there, whether he believes in it or not, one outstretched hand towards your name on the wind, towards the golden thread that pulls him unknowingly to you.

He smiles, bashfully even and dips his head to the ridge of your knuckles, presses his lips to the soft plane of your hand, his hair falling against your wrist, your exposed arm swallowing the moonlight and it sends the heat to your cheeks, your neck, the part of your chest that’s slipped between the folds of your gown, dizzying and wondrous and it aches that you can’t live in this feeling right here, in this library and let the the world rot and die around the two of you.

‘I will always find you Princess. You only have to call and I’ll come and catch you.’

‘Every time?’ Your voice wavers, the tears pricking at your throat, at the bang of your heart in your chest.

‘Every time.’

‘Oh.’ And it’s your turn to flush a deep crimson now, and hide it in the shadow of darkness that falls over the window seat from the bookcase that hides you strategically from view. He knows you need to hear it, even if he doesn’t care for fate or destiny or the things heroes tell themselves to sleep easier at night, even if he’s willing to make an exception to the rule that’s saved him so many times, for you.

He touches your cheek, one single finger brushing at the stray eyelash on your cheekbone and the bump in his throat slips and slides under the silver of his armour, disappearing beneath the links of chainmail that hide the ink of his chest from view. You’re ashamed to admit you’ve thought so long and hard about running your tongue along every ridge and muscle of his, the flex of his stomach under your waiting mouth, the groan that spills past his parted lips when you suck harshly on the inviting swell of his chest, fine hairs like pencil shadings disappearing beneath the cord of his slacks to where you want to taste him most.

You bite down hard on your lip, your eyes flitting between the viridescent flash of violet in his and his pink lips, parted and wet and you know they’d be supple and soft, would slot perfectly on yours and he’d moan against your mouth and you’d forget for the moment that you could be found in your clandestine and sinful state of him moving against you.

‘I-’

‘It’s alright, I understand,’ you say, with more fervour than you feel, more confident than you could ever be around him, because you know he needs to hear it, that you understand and you want to, and it would be so easy to bridge the gap and have him ruin you in the way you know he wants to, hungry and insatiable and loud, your eager whines of his name muffled beneath his leather glove clamped over your mouth.

‘I want to, I really do.’ He could, if he was anything less than what he is, if it didn’t matter to him that another man would see the marks he’d painted on your skin and hurt you for it, for his own greed that would come at the price of your tears. It’s a risk that even he, the most reckless, unpredictable, aggressive of the Knights can’t take, would never take at your expense. For all his faults, he is redeemed by you, the sun that spills into and out of his life.

‘I know, me too.’

‘I’m sorry, for hurting you like this’ he says, the whisper of his breath fanning against your nose. He breaks your gaze, and presses his forehead to your knuckles, his lips, as if he can carve it into you, as it it makes it any less painful to feel him kneeling for you, ever loyal, knowing your heart is in every kink of his armour, wound tightly between his fingers.

‘I’m sorry too.’ You sniffle, and the tears are lost in the soft cashmere of your shawl, in the white and ivory lace of your sleeping gown. You take his face in your hands and it aches that when he looks up at you, his eyes are wide and the moon spills the opalescent veneer of its light onto his lashes, the violet hue lightened to lilac.

There is a terse silence, broken only by the flutter of the wind leaking between the stacks of books and wooden shelves, the crackle of fire that casts a faint orange glow over the honeyed bronze of his skin.

‘Rindou,’ you say.

‘Princess,’ he says, weighted with all the years of your friendship, even after it had blossomed into something more.

‘Rindou, My Rindou.’

‘Your Rindou, and you’re My Princess.’

It has a foreign flutter beating against your chest.

‘That’s right.’ You skim your thumb along his cheek, the high and sharp slope of his perfect cheekbones, the nose that’s a little crooked from all the fighting, the cut in his lip that he never takes care of after sparring. ‘You will write often won’t you?’

‘Of course, you will write back?’

‘I will, always. You will be tired of me soon, filling your days with useless chatter.’

‘I could never tire of you, My Lady,’ he says and it’s true, because for all your belief, that you are just simply too much for others, that the burden of you is greater than the reward, you are just right for him. If only he had more time to prove it.

‘I’ll be bored without you, you know. I’ll be so lonely.’ You wonder briefly, at the man who you will wake up to every morning, the weight of him, the fact that you will no longer reach across the space of your bed to find Rindou dozing in the chair, his gloved hand holding his chin as he fights the sleep to watch over you.

‘You’ll find friends, you won’t be alone,’ he says, placatingly, even though he knows the space the two of you have made, a closeted corner of each other’s hearts, can never be filled and will always remain locked and isolated.

He doesn’t expect it’ll continue for long, the correspondence you’ve promised. He knows how it is. That one day turns to two, and a week turns to a month and you’ll be having children and maybe his letters to you, written with all the heart he knows he can give, with the words he often finds so hard to say, will collect dust beneath the paperweight. If they ever get to you at all.

You bend to press your lips to his forehead, and Rindou thinks, the little heart he does have, the one you own, safely tucked beneath the sleeve of your shawl, breaks here when he feels your lips on his skin, soft and imperceptible, the scent of your perfume caught in his nose, the cotton of your sleeves dancing on his cheeks.

He wonders what his Brother would say if he saw him now, the harsh lump in his throat threatening tears, the thunderous roar of his heart.

‘Thank you Rindou,’ you say, your lips to his hair, knowing you won’t touch like this again, hoping that this gives him all the love you know he needs and will always pretend not to, because he’s like that, because he’s tough and capable and yours, beyond time, beyond this.

‘You too Princess. It’s been fun,’ he whispers and it feels like an end, like he is being crushed. Did it always hurt so much? When the heroes lived and died for love? Did Achilles burn with the same pain when Patroclus was taken?

A door closes somewhere, the click of it banging against the wall and snapping the both of you into the present. A voice, and a shadow looming against the furthest wall and it means that’s the end. Come morning, you’ll be gone and Rindou will be here and maybe he’ll watch you leave, see you off like he should. Or maybe not.

He hopes that somewhere, in some lifetime it hurts less, that the two of you are happy and safe and there are no tears to shed, no painful endings to cry over for the both of you.

Somewhere, maybe.

a/n: hiii this is so late omg I am so sorry, I was meant to post this like two months ago, but big thanks to Aria for holding this collab it was very fun to write, I hope you enjoy it (pls don't burn me at the stake lol) I've never written a royal au before so this was fun! Thank you to everyone for supporting me!

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @islascafe @swqllen @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @wotakuhime @snakegentleman @severellamahottub @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @ranscutedoll @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @tetsutits @burnishedcrown @sweet-seishu @saintokkotsu @nikokopuffs @sin-and-punishment

let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #rindou haitani #haitani rindou #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev #tr x reader #regalità & magia - collab

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thenerdykneazle · 3 months

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Yule Ball

images of Garreth above from @dvinaamesca here and here

Summary: Sometimes our favourite gregarious Gryffindor can be a bit thick. Professor Black reinstates the Yule Ball in your seventh year, and you realise last-minute that your boyfriend isn't planning on taking you. Leander tries to help his best mate patch things up with you. Sometimes simple misunderstandings lead to hurt feelings, but talking it out (and makeup sex) is always worth it.

Garreth Weasley x Gryffindor F!MC

A/N: Did I write an almost 9k fic because I loved a screenshot so much? Yes. Yes, I did. At any rate, this blog was far overdue for some Garreth love.

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, aged-up characters, Garreth being oblivious, failure to communicate, caught indisposed, talks of hypothetically pregnant MC

Word count: 8621

Seventh year was going surprisingly well for you. The stress of exams was nothing compared to quashing a goblin rebellion, and poaching was at an all-time low in the Highlands. If you were honest, it was a bit dull. You had tried, back at the end of sixth year, to get Black to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament. You argued that it was the perfect time, exactly a century after the last one had been held. He had refused outright, arguing that it was “too dangerous.” You suspected his concern was less directed at whatever students would be competing and more due to the fact that the heads of the participating schools had been injured during the last one in 1792. Bloody coward.

You had started a whole campaign, hoping to pressure him into it, but he wouldn’t relent. Poppy managed to convince him to at least host a Yule Ball the following Christmas. The vain headmaster leapt at the chance to bring out his dress robes. It was settled.

At least you had quidditch to keep you from being bored to death. Games and practices playing chaser alongside your boyfriend were the highlight of each week. You had worried it might cause friction between the two of you when you and Garreth joined the team last year. Quite the contrary, you both worked together flawlessly. You practised so much that you had an almost telepathic connection on the pitch. You had been so close to winning the Quidditch Cup last year, and you had high hopes for this season.

Still, quidditch only provided so much of a distraction given the level of adventure to which you were accustomed, and you had looked forward to the Yule Ball all of autumn term. Poppy – and, to your surprise, Imelda – led the planning effort. You were confident it was going to be spectacular. You had already gone shopping with Natty, and Mr. Hill insisted on making custom gowns for both of you. He had always been appreciative of you two saving his shop from the troll back in fifth year.

As you were studying in the library for end-of-term exams, Poppy updated you on the planning. The ball was to be an all-night, Regency-style affair complete with dancing, a late supper, and more dancing. You couldn’t wait for Christmas to arrive.

Over lunch, Garreth expressed a similar sentiment. “I cannot wait for exams to be over. I swear my aunt is lurking around every corner to make sure I’m revising properly,” he groused. “It’s like she has no faith in me.”

“She just wants you to do well,” you assured him, rubbing a soothing hand between his shoulder blades.

“At least we have the holidays to look forward to,” he said. “Your parents are letting you stay here in the castle, right?”

“Yes!” you replied eagerly. “It’s going to be splendid, isn’t it? Have you gotten dress robes?”

Garreth’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What for?”

You gaped at him. “For the Yule Ball.”

He looked caught off guard. “I wasn’t planning on attending,” he admitted.

“What? You–You’re not going?” you asked, taken aback. “Are you serious?”

Your conversation caught Leander’s attention, and he looked nervously between you two. His eyes widened with intent as he stared at Garreth.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Garreth explained. “What’s the point?”

Leander hid his face in his hand, clearly embarrassed at his best mate’s lack of tact.

The bench scraped harshly on the stone floor as you got to your feet. “What’s the point?” you repeated, furious.

Garreth shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like I’m telling you that you can’t go,” he said.

“Garreth Weasley, you inconsiderate – you oblivious – you – Ugh!” you spluttered. You grabbed your bag off the ground before storming off, leaving Garreth sat stunned on the bench.

“What is her problem?” he asked Leander.

“Mate…” the tall redhead said in a pitying tone. He just shook his head at the boy.

You spent the rest of exams avoiding Garreth. Fortunately, there were no quidditch practices to force you to interact with him. You studied in the Undercroft instead of the library. When you weren’t studying, you holed up in your dorm room where he couldn’t reach you. He tried to get Natty or Cressida to convince you to talk to him, but you were still too mad. You had spent months looking forward to the Yule Ball. You’d gushed to him about your excitement for the event dozens of times. It had never crossed your mind that your boyfriend wouldn’t escort you.

He managed to corner you once, on your way out of the potions exam. You suspected he had finished well before you and lingered for the express purpose of trying to talk to you. He chased you out, pulling you into an alcove in the corridor. “MC, I’m sorry,” he said, looking devestated. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You scowled, but you were listening.

“I just…I didn’t realise you cared so much about a silly little ball,” he continued, inserting his foot directly into his mouth.

You scoffed, shoving past him and starting down the corridor.

“Wait, that came out wrong,” Garreth said, rushing after you.

“Did it, now?” you replied, unconvinced.

You stopped abruptly, spinning back to face him as you crossed your arms over your chest. Garreth almost walked straight into you, but he caught himself just in time.

You arched an accusing brow at him. “Was this supposed apology going to involve you asking me to said ‘silly little ball’?”

“I…Well…” he stammered, his nervous eyes looking anywhere but at you.

You huffed as you whipped back around. Garreth called after you as you stormed away, but you didn’t stop that time.

Your anger continued to simmer through the end of exams on the 23rd. Normally, the Hogwarts Express would’ve been packed that evening as students headed home for the Christmas holidays. However, it was nearly empty that night. It seemed everyone else was as excited for the ball as you were – everyone except your boyfriend, that is.

You spent hours practising spells in the Undercroft that evening. Ominis found you down there. The smell of smouldering crates filled his nose immediately.

“Still upset with Garreth, I take it?” Ominis asked as he strode into the room.

“Yep,” you replied curtly.

“Are you going to stop talking to him forever over a dance?” he asked seriously, folding his arms as he leaned back against a blank stretch of stone wall.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not the dance. It’s that he knew how excited I was for it and still had no plans to attend it with me. It’s like he doesn’t care about what’s important to me.”

Ominis cocked his head to the side as he considered your words. “Have you explained that to him?”

Your jaw tensed. “I shouldn’t have to.”

Ominis pursed his lips, shaking his head slightly. “That’s a healthy way to handle it,” he said sarcastically.

“I don’t want to hear it, Mr. My Relationship is Soooo Perfect,” you groused. “You and Poppy both love dancing. It’s not fair.”

You crossed your arms in a huff.

Ominis smirked at the mention of his girlfriend. “Well, we are fortunate in that,” he said. “I’ll save a dance for you, tough, shall I?”

“That’d be lovely. It’ll be the only one I get,” you replied – admittedly, being a bit melodramatic.

Ominis snorted. “Right. Because people can only dance at a ball if they already have a partner.”

“Will you just let me sulk?” you snapped.

Ominis rolled his eyes. “You’ve been sulking all week, MC,” he pointed out. “I won’t let you ruin the ball for yourself.”

You sighed. He had a point. Just because Garreth was being an arse didn’t mean you shouldn’t try to enjoy the event you’d been looking forward to since the end of spring term.

The door to the seventh-year boys’ dormitory shut with a soft click. Leander stared at his best mate, lying face-down in bed on top of his sheets.

“I take it the grovelling didn’t go well?” he asked as he crossed the room to sit on the edge of his own bed.

Garreth mumbled incoherently into his pillow.

“Come again?” Leander said.

Garreth turned his head to the side, still lying boneless otherwise. “There was no grovelling,” he said. “She still won’t speak to me. Or listen. Or do anything but bolt the other direction when I spot her in the halls.”

Leander hummed sympathetically. “Did you try having Natty pass along your apology?”

“She refused,” Garreth said dismally. “Said I should apologise to her myself, even though that’s literally impossible seeing as MC won’t be in the same wing of the castle as me for more than five seconds. I don’t know what to do, Lee.”

Leander clicked his tongue. “That is a tough spot,” he said. “I suppose you do know one place you can definitely find her.”

“She hasn’t used the Room of Requirement all week. I checked with Deek,” Garreth argued.

“I was talking about the Yule Ball,” Leander said, rolling his eyes at his hopelessly thick friend.

Garreth pushed himself up on his arms so he could turn to look at Leander. “And how is embarrassing myself at a ball going to help anything?” he demanded.

Leander let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s really not that complicated, mate. She’s mad at you because you wouldn’t take her to the ball. So, go there and dance with her. After the grovelling. That bit’s still essential, trust me.”

“But I can’t dance,” Garreth argued.

Leander shrugged. “I’ll teach you.”

Garreth chewed his lip as he considered the option. “Okay…But what if she bolts the second she sees me? Or, worse, takes someone else to the dance?”

Leander pursed his lips. He had to admit that they were both quite plausible outcomes. “I’ll handle it.”

“How?” Garreth inquired.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You just focus on using the next 48 hours to make sure you won’t crush her toes when you finally dance with her.”

Garreth, still looking anxious, just nodded.

“Brilliant! Now, on your feet. I’m going to teach you to waltz,” Leander said.

Saturday morning, Leander caught you leaving your dorm for breakfast. “MC! Just the girl I wanted to see!” he said brightly as you descended the stairs into the Gryffindor common room.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever Garreth wants to tell me, I don’t want to hear it,” you groused, brushing past him.

“Actually,” Leander said as he caught your hand to make you stop, “I wanted to ask a favour.”

Your brow furrowed. You crossed your arms sceptically, but you made no move to dart away. “A favour?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

Leander gulped down his nerves as he nodded his head. “Well, I was…I was wondering if you’d go to the Yule Ball with me.”

You blinked rapidly as you processed his words. “Oh,” you said in surprise. “I would’ve thought you’d be going with Sebastian. You two have been dancing around each other for ages, after all.”

Leander sucked his teeth. “Yes, well, Violet beat me to asking him, evidently,” he explained with a rather sour expression. “So, I thought we might go together, since Garreth’s being a numpty. As friends, of course, but…also to make our boys a bit jealous, maybe.”

“You want to help me make Garreth jealous?” you asked in disbelief.

“Well, Garreth and Sebastian,” he replied. “Besides, I think he deserves it. He was a bit of a knob about the ball.”

You tilted your head, eyeing him for a long moment that had him starting to squirm. “Yeah, all right,” you agreed.

Leander beamed at you. “Brilliant! I’ll pick you up at 8 tomorrow night,” he said.

“See you then,” you replied.

Your Christmas morning was spent in the Gryffindor common room after Natty assured you that Garreth wasn’t down there. Almost the entire rest of your house was, though. There was a weight in your chest at not getting to celebrate with the man you loved – even if he was being a git. You also felt sorry for him that he was missing out on the festivities.

You didn’t see him the rest of the day, either. That night, you and Natty spent hours getting ready in your room. The mirror had nothing but compliments for the pair of you, and you were feeling quite good about yourself despite the recent tiff with Garreth. As such, you lingered in the common room early, hoping he’d catch a glimpse of you all dolled up. There might’ve been a part of you that wanted him to regret not spending that night with you.

He wasn’t there, though, and you began to wonder if he’d gone home for the rest of the holiday.

Your worrying was cut short when Leander emerged into the room. He smiled when he saw you. “You look beautiful, MC,” he said sweetly.

“Thank you. You look quite dashing yourself,” you replied.

He straightened the lapel of his dress robes proudly. They were black with deep green paisley accents.

“We’re quite a festive pair,” you said, looking down at your ruby red gown.

He laughed. “Yes, well, I had been planning on taking a Slytherin,” he said lightly.

“True,” you replied.

Leander held his arm out to you. “Shall we?”

You nodded and took hold of it, winding your own arm delicately around his.

The Great Hall had been totally transformed. It was almost unrecognisable. Instead of the usual floating candles, bright orbs of light hung in the air like shining stars. The edges of the room were lined with pine trees, full of twinkling lights and glittering ornaments. Each tree was decorated for one of the four houses. The dais was almost entirely taken over by a massive tree decorated in glass ornaments of all four houses’ mascots, crests, and other staples – like a glass rendition of the portrait of the fat lady and the mermaids from the fountain in the Slytherin common room.

The ceiling was enchanted to have snow falling softly, though it vanished before reaching any of you. It was truly magnificent. Your only regret was that Garreth wasn’t there to experience it with you. Before you could properly mope on the subject, Leander whisked you onto the dance floor. It was almost impossible to stay wistful when you were sweeping around the Great Hall in a two step to lively music. Leander led gracefully, his hold on you firm and his movements fluid and sure. You glided through the other couples, almost constantly spinning. It was a wonder you weren’t dizzy.

“You seem to have something on your mind,” Leander observed.

“I can’t help but wish Garreth were here,” you admitted.

“I see,” he replied.

“Sorry,” you said sincerely. “I don’t mean to insult you. You’re a wonderful dance partner.”

“Just not the one you planned on having,” he said knowingly.

You gave him an apologetic smile.

“I can hardly fault you for that,” he said.

As the song faded to its end, he released your back to spin you around once more, turning you rather quickly before suddenly releasing your hand, as well. You stumbled to get your footing until two strong hands steadied you at your hips, holding you still.

Your head spun a bit from the sudden stop, lashes fluttering as you looked up to find your boyfriend was the one who had caught you.

“Garreth,” you breathed, momentarily forgetting to be angry. You were too surprised. Too relieved. Too caught up in the sight of him with his softly styled curls and perfectly tailored dress robes. He wore a crisp black shirt under a white satin waistcoat and matching bowtie. A deep red robe topped the look. His satin lapels were embroidered with vines matching the ones on his waistcoat. The colour of the robe was exactly the same shade as your dress.

Your arms hung uselessly at your sides as you gaped at him. He gave you a meek smile as he gazed longingly into your eyes.

“You look stunning, darling,” he said. “I’m not as light-footed as Lee, but I’d be honoured to dance with you.”

You realised that, while time had seemed to stop, it had in fact pressed on, and the band was now playing a waltz. Garreth lifted one hand off your hips and held it out to you. You just looked down at it, still processing how you had gotten in this situation. You glanced around in search of Leander, but he had vanished.

“What are you doing here?” you asked dimly.

Garreth’s smile grew nervous. “Making up with my girlfriend, I hope.”

He shifted anxiously as his hand still hung empty in the air between you. You stepped back, his other hand slipping off your hip.

“You said you didn’t want to dance with me,” you said accusingly, finally remembering that you were cross with him.

“I know. I’m sorry, but you’re so good at it. And I…I have two left feet. I thought it’d be worse to have you realise how dreadful I am than for you to just go by yourself,” he said, his hands retreating into his pockets. “I…didn’t want to embarrass you.”

He chewed his lip, as he often did when anxious. Your own lips parted as you stared at him in shock.

Evidently, you took too long to reply, because he started speaking again. “I know Leander and I can be a bit ridiculous sometimes. And I’ve had more than a few mishaps with potions in class – and it’s the thing I’m best at. I just…didn’t want to give you another reason to be ashamed of me.”

His gaze dropped to his feet as his hands fidgeted in his pockets.

“I’d never be ashamed of you,” you assured him, a bit offended that he’d think you would be.

“Really?” he asked, seeming genuinely surprised by the idea as he looked up at you in shock.

“Garreth, I love you. Every bit of you,” you stated. “Why on earth would I be ashamed of you?”

His cheeks flushed. “I mean, my family is,” he admitted, seeming to shrink into himself as his eyes darted away again. “And the professors seem perpetually disappointed in me. It’s twice as bad with Aunt Matilda.”

He forced out a laugh, but you could tell he was quite hurt by the situation.

You brought a hand up to his jaw, gently tilting his head up so he’d look at you. “Well, I think you’re brilliant,” you said. “And they have every reason to be as proud of you as I am, Garreth. You’ve invented half a dozen potions just since I’ve known you – and improved even more. You’re incredibly kind, even when others are mean to you. And you constantly make me laugh, especially when you and Leander are ‘being ridiculous.’”

He gave you a shy, appreciative smile before pulling you into a hug. “I love you, MC. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

You linked your arms around his back. “I’m sorry I didn’t just talk to you.”

He pressed a kiss into your pinned-up hair. “Me, too.”

You breathed out a laugh. “It was a pretty stupid fight when I think about it.”

“All our fights are stupid,” Garreth replied in an exasperated tone.

You pulled back to glare up at him. “Are you trying to start another one?” you asked in a low, warning voice.

Garreth smirked at you. “Maybe I like when you’re riled up,” he said cheekily. “You can’t wear a dress like this and expect me not to want to take it off of you, you know.”

“Garreth!” you hissed, smacking his chest as you glanced around to make sure no one had overheard him.

He pulled you back tight to him. “You really are especially gorgeous tonight,” he said in a low voice as his gaze roamed over you.

You could feel your cheeks heat under the fire in his eyes. “I…I think we should d-dance now,” you said, needing a distraction from the starved look in his eyes as they devoured you.

“Oh, um…” he said, suddenly nervous again. “I really only practised the waltz, so…maybe we could wait until they play another of those? I could get us some punch in the meantime.”

He had the most adorable hopeful smile on his face.

“Punch would be perfect,” you said sweetly.

“Done,” he said eagerly before darting off to fetch the drinks.

A blur of robes whirled over to you soon after. Leander had danced Sebastian over to where you stood. The latter’s black robes were a suspiciously similar style to the former’s – except his accents were red. Your fellow Gryffindor was looking exceptionally smug.

“Are my favourite lovebirds back in love?” Leander asked, waggling his eyebrows at you.

Your eyes narrowed into slits. “For a Gryffindor, you’re a snake, Leander Prewett.”

“I’m so proud,” Sebastian said, placing his hand on Leander’s cheek and gazing at him fondly. Then, he turned to look at you. “When he asked if he could pretend to take you to the ball, I said yes at once, of course.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “And what if we hadn’t made up?” you asked them severely. “What would you have done, then?”

Leander’s eyes widened as his smirk fell. He clearly hadn’t considered the idea.

“You two are too hopelessly besotted with each other for that,” Sebastian said easily, waving you off.

Garreth reappeared at your side then. “Here you go, love,” he said, handing you a glass before kissing your cheek.

“Thank you,” you murmured, a fresh blush dusting your cheeks.

“My work here is clearly done,” Leander said haughtily.

“I think you’re right, darling,” Sebastian agreed.

“Care to dance the night away?” Leander asked him, holding out his hand.

Sebastian beamed at him as he took it. “That sounds lovely,” he replied before they sauntered back to the dance floor.

Garreth leaned in to whisper in your ear. “See, that’s how you’re supposed to respond when a man asks you to dance,” he said teasingly.

“Oh, shut up,” you groused, but the words lacked any real bite.

“Never,” he retorted, a mischievous glint in his eye as you turned your head to glare at him.

He laced his fingers with the hand unoccupied by your drink.

“I have something for you,” he said.

You turned to face him. He dropped your hand and pulled a long, narrow box out from his pocket. It was too broad to be a wand but about the right length, and it had a gold ribbon tied carefully around it.

“Merry Christmas, MC,” he said softly.

Garreth traded the box for your drink. He was fidgeting as you examined it in your hands, clearly excited for you to open it. You carefully slipped the ribbon off before taking off the lid. Inside was a vibrant pink feather with a metal pointed tip.

Garreth started speaking before you could even thank him. “It took me a while to get the charms right. I just finished it up this morning, actually. It’s self-inking, so you don’t have to worry about an open inkpot spilling on your assignments. It’s spell-checking, too. That was the tricky part. But I got it sorted out, eventually. Promise.”

He laughed nervously. You were speechless for a moment as you looked up at him, warmth spreading through your chest as your heart squeezed with affection. Garreth bounced on the balls of his feet, the movement threatening to spill the glasses of punch in his hands. His bottom lip was grasped between his teeth, and a few stray curls were falling into his eyes.

You looked back down at the fwooper feather quill. “Garreth, this is so sweet,” you gushed, wondering how you’d managed to be upset with such a sweet man only a few hours ago.

His eyes lit up. “You like it?” he asked hopefully.

“I love it!” you assured him. “I have a gift for you, too, I just…I don’t have it with me.”

You left off adding that it was because you hadn’t expected him to be there. You didn’t want him to think you were still cross.

“All I wanted tonight is your forgiveness, MC,” he said with such earnestness that you worried you might melt right to the floor.

You brushed his hair out of his face. “You have it,” you replied, not wanting him to doubt it for a second. “Do you…do you forgive me, too?”

He ditched his punch on a tray floating nearby. He cupped his newly free hand over your cheek as he leaned in towards you, pressing his lips to yours gently in reassurance. He pulled back far too soon for your liking, though. “Always,” he vowed.

Your heart felt swollen to bursting. “I want to go get your present,” you said more intensely than the words merited as you reverently replaced the lid on the box.

“You don’t have to leave the dance. I know how much you were looking forward to it,” he said with such sweet consideration. You almost winced as you recalled calling him “inconsiderate” the other day. “You can give it to me tomorrow.”

“It should be now, I think,” you stated.

“It’s really not–” he started.

“It’s in the Room of Requirement,” you added, cutting him off. His brows drew together. He could tell you were trying to communicate something, but he couldn’t tell what it was. Bless him, you thought. “You should come.”

A beat later his eyebrows shot up to his curls as realisation struck. You almost laughed when he just replied with a rather serious “yes” before quickly abandoning the other nearly-full punch glass on the tray.

He followed you out of the Great Hall. Once alone in the corridors, you clutched the box to your heart with one hand and laced the other with his. He lagged behind you as you tugged him along.

“Getting cold feet?” you joked, hoping to speed him up a bit.

“Just admiring the view,” he replied cheekily.

You glanced over your shoulder to find him staring down at your bum. He smirked at you when he saw that you’d caught him.

“You’ll have a much better one once you get this dress off me like you promised,” you said in a sultry tone.

In the flickering candlelight of the hallway, you could see Garreth’s eyes darken as he held your gaze. Then, he took off sprinting and called back impatiently, “Come on!”

You giggled as you chased after him. He slowed to a jog to let you catch up. You only paused briefly to take off your heels. When you reached the seventh floor of the Astronomy Tower, he was on you before the entrance had even fully materialised. He held your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, backing you into the forming door.

A needy ache started low in your stomach as he nipped at your bottom lip. You’d been without him for too long, stupidly holding a grudge over a simple misunderstanding about…something, surely. You couldn’t remember what now.

Garreth held you to him with a hand behind your back as his other felt blindly for the handle. His hold on you kept you upright as the door gave way behind you. Your heels slipped from your fingers and clattered to the floor as he backed you inside, and you tangled your now free hand in the base of his curls as you devoured his lips.

Your back smacked into the wall, and Garreth pressed himself against you. Your legs parted to allow him in closer, and you could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against your centre. Your body tried to gasp and moan at the same time as he shifted his attention to your neck whilst his hips ground into yours. It was one of the most needy, pathetic sounds you’d ever made, but it seemed to spur him on even more.

“Fuck, MC,” he groaned into your neck before biting down on the skin where it met your shoulder.

Your legs almost gave out from the delicious sting of it. It hurt, but it brought a wave of pleasure, as well. You loved when Garreth was almost animalistic in his need for you.

Your head lolled to the side, opening up your neck to him further as you used your purchase in his hair to hold him close. You spotted the supply cabinet next to you, and you slipped the box containing your quill onto it before you lost yourself and dropped it.

You then slipped your hand between the two of you to palm the tent straining Garreth’s neatly pressed trousers. He shuddered at your touch and let out a breathy moan in your ear. You stroked your hand up and down the length of him until he suddenly grabbed your wrist and pinned it back against the wall.

“You’re going to ruin me early, you minx,” he growled.

You felt a jolt of excitement at the idea that just touching him over his trousers could have him so worked up. Before you could even contemplate how to get your hand free and back on him, he dropped your wrist in favour of grabbing a handful of your arse. At the same time, his lips rejoined yours in a dizzying kiss. You were pliant in his arms as he slid his tongue into your mouth.

Without breaking your kiss, Garreth rucked up your dress so his hand could slide under the fabric, skating up the outside of your bare thigh. He groaned as he hiked your leg up around him, pulling you even closer. His hips pressed forward into yours, seeking friction, and you gasped against his lips as his shaft pressed firmly at your centre. It put a delightful but maddening pressure on the bundle of nerves there.

“Garreth,” you moaned out. “Please.”

“Please what, love?” he replied breathily. His verdant eyes nearly burnt into you as he looked down at you with such love and earnest. “I’ll give you anything. Just name it.”

You groaned with need as your hips shifted against his, continuing to rub his shaft against your core in a way that sent sparks of pleasure through you. It wasn’t enough, though. “Please,” you repeated, feeling almost drunk with desire. “I need you.”

“Fuck,” Garreth muttered. The desperation in your voice was wearing away whatever self-control he had left – it was never much when it came to you anyway. “As you wish, love.”

His fingers danced over your skin and traced the edge of your knickers at the crease of your thigh. He dipped into them, stroking his long fingers between your folds and making you keen.

“Merlin,” he breathed out. “You’re drenched for me, darling.”

You moaned as the pads of his fingers came up and circled over your clit. Your head fell back against the wall with a dull thud, and you had to grip his shoulders for support as your legs began to tremble.

“You look really good in these dress robes,” you quipped, already panting from his ministrations. He knew your body well, and it never took long for him to work you into a right state.

Garreth smirked at you. “I’ll look even better in you, love.”

As he said the words, his finger slipped inside of you. He quickly found a spot that had a tension coiling low in your abdomen.

“Fuck, Garreth,” you keened. “Oh, gods! That f-feels so good!”

He took a handful of your skirts, pinning them against your stomach to leave your knickers exposed. Garreth dropped to his knees in front of you. You scrambled for new supports as you could no longer reach his shoulders. One hand scraped along the wall behind you while the other tangled into his curls.

“Evanesco,” Garreth said, his breath ghosting over your core. He watched his finger disappearing into you without the obstruction of your knickers. “So gorgeous.”

You could feel your face flushing at the praise. Garreth was quite keen on your intimate parts, and he always made sure you knew it.

He leaned forward and licked at your centre as his finger kept pumping into you. Garreth groaned even louder than you did. “Gods, you taste divine, darling,” he said before licking you again.

He kissed and sucked on your little nub, and you prayed your legs wouldn’t give out altogether. If they did, though, you were confident Garreth would catch you in time.

His tongue flicked over you eagerly, and the coil that had wound in your abdomen threatened to snap.

“Gar, I…I’m….” you tried, but then you couldn’t breathe let alone speak when your muscles tensed as you succumbed to utter euphoria.

You called out his name as waves of pleasure rocked through you, each sensation heightened as Garreth kept licking ravenously at you. You were practically convulsing from the intensity of your high. You might’ve felt embarrassed by your reaction if Garreth hadn’t looked so utterly enamoured with watching you fall apart so unreservedly.

About the same time, a loud crack rang out through the dimly lit room.

Garreth dropped your skirts and his head whipped around, his finger sliding out of you as he turned. You looked up blearily toward the noise, and your pleasure was immediately replaced with a shock of horror.

“Oh, dear!” Deek said, gaping at the two of you in such a compromising position.

Garreth blinked at the elf, whose eyes were wide and cheeks were reddening as he looked at the young wizard’s glistening face. You were too stunned and embarrassed to speak.

With a quick swish of his wand, Garreth calmed the erection that had been straining his outfit. He’d learned the spell early in your relationship, as you had a habit of riling him up at any number of inconvenient times – in class, during meals, before you left on some adventure. Essentially, any time he was around you, he was at risk, and the spell was easier than always donning oversized robes whose sleeves would dip into his cauldron when he tried to brew.

“Professor Weasley asked Deek to check on the students after they disappeared from the ball,” the elf said. He decided it was better to look at his feet than the pair of you. “She also asked Deek to remind Mr. Weasley that a child has not been born out of wedlock to your family in over a century and Mr. Weasley will not be changing that.”

Garreth, who has been furiously wiping off his mouth and chin, flushed crimson at that. “Right,” he said in a stilted tone, shifting nervously on his feet. “Is she expecting a…a report back?”

“Deek will not tell the professor what he, uh…stumbled in on,” the elf assured them. “But the students should return to the ball promptly. Deek does not want to have to come back.”

Another loud crack rang through the room as Deek left.

“Well, that was mortifying,” Garreth said as he rubbed at his temples.

“And you weren’t the one with your bits out,” you quipped as you fought the urge to bury your face in your hands. “At least Deek’s not going to tell your aunt.”

“Merlin, I half expect she’ll know anyway, to be honest,” he replied. He pulled you into a hug and pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known we wouldn’t get away with slinking out of the ball like that.”

You chuckled as you wrapped your arms around him, as well. “I was the one who lured you up here,” you pointed out.

“I came quite willingly,” he argued.

You brought your hand down to palm him through his trousers again. “You didn’t come at all, unfortunately.”

Garreth moaned, dropping his forehead onto yours as you stroked him, rapidly undoing the work of his spell.

You bit your bottom lip as you locked eyes with him. “I don’t think we have time for you to make good on your promise to get me out of this dress, but…” You spun in his arms, pressing your arse back against him as you braced your hands against the wall. “I think we could still make it work.”

Garreth groaned. He grabbed your hips, pulling you tight against him. He smoothed one hand over your arse appreciatively before sliding it down to grip low on your skirts. He pulled the fabric up around your waist, so your lower half was completely bare to him. He immediately bent to place a lovebite on the curve of your cheek, while his hands kneaded into both of them. You moaned as his teeth grazed your skin.

“You ready for me, love?” he asked, his lips brushing the mark he’d just left.

“Gods, yes!” you replied eagerly, shifting your hips back a bit further in an attempt to entice him to get on with it already.

Garreth stood up straight again as he undid his trousers. He pulled himself free from the garments and wasted no time in dragging the head of his cock through your soaked slit. He anchored a hand on your hip as he slid into you.

He let out a ragged breath as he bottomed out. “You feel amazing!” he groaned. His other hand gripped your hips, as well, and he began thrusting in and out of you. “You’ve no idea how much I missed you, love!”

You wanted to argue – tell him you were sure you knew exactly how much, because you’d missed him, too – but you could only keen as he rocked you forward with each of his thrusts, filling you completely on every push inside. There was really nothing like it. He felt tailor-made for you.

You were so enraptured that you almost didn’t notice when a mirror appeared on the wall in front of you. You gasped in surprise as you looked up, catching sight of Garreth’s reflection. He winked at you.

“Fuck, I was right,” he panted, causing you to draw your brows together in confusion. “I do look even better inside you.”

You let out a laugh. He was utterly ridiculous, and it only made you love him that much more.

“Don’t worry, love,” he said with a cheeky smile, still pumping into you and also still holding your gaze through the mirror. “You look even better. I mean, gods, look at you! All done up.” He wrapped a hand gently around your throat, letting his thumb stroke up your jaw and across your painted lips. You parted them and sucked his thumb into your mouth, pressing your tongue flat against the pad of it like you would the underside of his cock. Garreth’s eyelids fluttered as he let out a low moan. “And in this dress…” He withdrew his thumb and fisted the same hand into the fabric pooled up near your ribs. “Your arse…” He gave it a squeeze, the tips of his nails just barely digging into your skin. “I fucking love your bloody gorgeous arse!”

His thrusts grew firmer, his hips slapping louder against your cheeks and thighs. You moaned as the force sent shocks of pleasure through you.

“Faster,” you begged, half because you knew it’d take a quicker pace to get him off and half (maybe more) because you wanted him to pound into you until your body held the memory of his cock inside you forever.

Garreth was keen to oblige. His grip on your hips was bruising as he slammed into you at a pace that had you barely able to keep your breath let alone even think about trying to keep up with his movements. All you could do was brace yourself on the wall as he took you.

“Ah, fuck!” Garreth groaned as you clenched hard around him. In the mirror, you could see that his head was thrown back in ecstasy. “So bloody perfect!”

His eyes snapped open, immediately locking with yours as his movements stuttered. He let out a strangled moan as he came, his cock pulsing deep inside you. You could feel the warmth dripping down as his semen started to leak out of you. Rather than pull out, Garreth leaned down over top of you to capture your lips. One arm wrapped around your stomach while the other hand tilted your chin toward him. You were both panting, unable to go without oxygen for long, but the brief kiss expressed the depth of your affections all the same.

“You’re never allowed to be cross with me again,” Garreth joked. “I can’t stand being apart from you for so long.”

You were inclined to vow he never would be as you stared into his bright green eyes, crinkling at the corners as he beamed at you.

“I can’t bear it, either,” you said.

Garreth pressed another chaste kiss to your lips. “I love you, MC. So much.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I love you, too. Even more.”

He glared at you playfully. “Those are fighting words, witch.”

Your smile turned into a smirk. “Then I’m lucky I’m a much better duellist.”

Garreth rolled his eyes but couldn’t deny it. Finally, he moved to right himself, sliding out of you before he helped you upright, as well. You both made quick work of making yourselves presentable – smoothing out your clothes, fixing your hair, and ensuring neither of you retained the sweat or musk of your recent activities. Garreth pouted a bit when you conjured new knickers for yourself, as he rather liked the idea of having easy access should you get the opportunity to sneak off again.

Once you were both put together, Garreth started for the door.

“Wait! I haven’t given you your present!” you said, quickly moving to rummage in your cabinet.

He chuckled. “I assumed you were the present.”

You glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow. “That’d be rather selfish of me, wouldn’t it?”

Garreth grinned broadly. “Actually, I considered it quite generous.”

You rolled your eyes, but you did find it rather sweet. “Consider this a stocking stuffer, then,” you said as you handed him a small box.

Garreth opened it to reveal a stack of cardstock. His mouth fell open as he picked up one of the small, rectangular cards to get a closer look.

“I saw the logo in your notes, and I thought it was really good,” you explained. “I figured you’ll need these once we graduate.”

Garreth looked from the card to you and back down again. In golden, embossed lettering were the words Exquisite Elixirs in a large, curly font curved underneath a rendering of a cauldron whose whirls of steam were spiralling upwards off the paper. On the other side, there was a little portrait of Garreth and a description of his company.

He still hadn’t spoken, so you continued, “If you tap it with a wand, it turns into an order form. I know you plan on being able to fill orders by owl.”

He looked up at you again, and his eyes were misty now. He pulled you into a tight hug. “Thank you! These are perfect!”

Ever since he started the process to register the brand, his parents had seemed doubtful. They kept lecturing him on what a “serious business” it was to run a company. His older brother had a friend of his lecture him on the myriad permits and regulations involved in the brewing industry – all things Garreth had already learnt in his research and discussions with Mr. Pippin. His aunt had tried to convince him to take a year or two to apprentice at J. Pippin’s, but Garreth knew he didn’t need it. He’d spent ages at the shop picking the potioneer’s brain. He’d also hounded Sharp with his questions during his office hours – almost no one else went to them, anyway.

The business cards, aside from showing how closely you paid attention, indicated that you actually believed in him. That meant the world to Garreth, especially because he knew you weren’t scared to let him know when you thought an idea of his was foolish. You wouldn’t just go along with things to make him feel good. You truly thought that he could run a successful shop.

He slipped one of the cards into his pocket before tucking the box safely with the rest of his brewing supplies.

The two of you took the floo down to the Great Hall to save time. You slipped back into the ball and immediately noticed Professor Weasley’s scrutinising gaze on you. You resisted the urge to smooth your hair, as it would only incriminate you. Instead, you gave her a polite wave.

She waved back, but you didn’t like the knowing look her smile had. You flushed as you quickly pulled Garreth toward the drink table. You were practically dying of thirst. You ran into Natty and Poppy as Garreth poured you both drinks. They both looked stunning in their gowns. Poppy’s was yellow with cap sleeves and full skirts. Natty’s was a brilliant white with her sleeves to her elbows and a corset nipping in her waist before the flair of her bustle.

“I was glad to hear you and Garreth finally made up,” Natty said, smiling at you as you approached.

“Did Leander already tell you?” you asked.

“Ominis did,” Poppy said.

You raised an eyebrow. “How did Ominis know?”

“I know everything that happens in this castle,” the Slytherin said as he stepped up to Poppy’s side. He handed her a drink before wrapping his arm around her waist.

“So, Leander told you and you told them?” you said, rolling your eyes.

“I didn’t need to be told anything,” Ominis said arrogantly.

Garreth returned with your drink, and you gave him an appreciative smile.

“I’m quite observant on my own,” Ominis continued. “Which is how I know you two have been up to no good. Couldn’t wait for dinner to find something to eat, Garreth?”

The redhead choked on his punch. “W-what?” he spluttered, wiping his mouth with a serviette a house-elf had promptly provided.

Poppy and Natty went wide-eyed as they caught Ominis’s meaning. Your face was burning. How could he know? Had Deek told?

“Don’t be coy now,” Ominis teased. “It’s quite obvious. I could – ahem – smell her on you when we were getting drinks. I wouldn’t hug your aunt without cleaning up if you don’t want detentions until you graduate.”

Poppy clapped a hang over her mouth to keep from giggling. Natty looked horrified. You and Garreth both gaped at Ominis. You had checked before you left the Room of Requirement. You swore you couldn’t smell anything that would suggest what the two of you had been up to in there. But, then, Ominis often heard things you couldn’t. Maybe it was the same with his sense of smell? At any rate, you were never going to live this down.

“I think they’re playing a waltz,” Garreth said, turning to you. “How about that dance?”

You downed your drink and took hold of his outstretched hand. “That sounds like a great idea,” you replied.

“Leave room for the nargles!” Ominis called after you before snickering with Poppy.

You made it onto the dance floor and were quickly lost in the crowd of swirling couples. You hid your face in Garreth’s chest, but you couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, gods, I think this is officially the most mortifying night of my life,” you said light-heartedly once you’d composed yourself.

Garreth started to spin you as you danced now that you weren’t burying your face in his robes.

“I think we’d best get our own place once we’re out of this castle full of nosy gits,” he said resolutely.

You let out another laugh. “Yeah, living together unwed wouldn’t have people talking at all,” you said sarcastically.

Garreth lifted his hand, and you turned under it before stepping back into his arms. “It would, wouldn’t it?” he said, giving you a knowing smile.

You gave him a questioning look in return.

“I’m not about to propose on – as you put it – ‘the most mortifying night of your life’ if that’s what you’re thinking,” Garreth said severely as he continued to lead you around the dance floor. “But if I were to…?”

“Were to what?” you replied, playing thick, as he dipped you.

“Were to propose, obviously,” Garreth said, exasperated, before pulling you back up. “What would you think of it?”

As you did another turn, you suppressed a smile that threatened to break onto your lips. “Are you, then?” you asked before clarifying, “Proposing?”

“Not yet,” he replied with an easy smile as he stepped forward to take you back in his arms.

“Then I’m not telling,” you stated, a hint of a sly smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Garreth rolled his eyes at you. “You vex me, witch,” he said drily.

“I just know you like surprises,” you replied innocently.

“Good ones,” he clarified.

“Exactly,” you said, winking at him.

A broad grin spread on his face, and he seemed lost in thought as he stared over your shoulder as the two of you spun slowly around the room.

You snapped him out of it when you said seriously, “This isn’t about that message from your aunt, is it? You haven’t been skipping your potions?”

“No, of course not. I take them every week,” he said. “You?”

“Every month,” you assured him.

“That’s so not fair,” he groused. “Why are the contraceptives for blokes four times as often?”

“We’ll see what’s ‘not fair’ when I’m the one carrying our babies for nine months each,” you retorted.

Garreth smirked at you. He looked insufferably smug.

“What?” you bit out, not seeing the humour in all the hardships that were sure to come with your future pregnancies.

“You said ‘when,’” he pointed out.

“Huh?” you replied, befuddled.

“You said, ‘when I’m the one carrying our babies,’” he said, doing a poor – and rather screechy – imitation of your voice.

You smacked him on the chest. “I do not sound like that,” you groused.

Garreth’s grin grew even wider. He looked utterly chuffed. “But you did say it. ‘When’ and ‘our.’ You want to have my babies.”

“Shut up,” you said tetchily, trying to pull out of his arms so you could go dig a hole to crawl into.

Garreth just held you tighter, laughing at your attempts to wriggle free. “You want to marry me and have my babies, and I’m happy to oblige, love. You just tell me when.”

You froze as you gaped at him. “Did you just–?”

“Officially? No. I’m still not letting you tell our children I proposed on the most mortifying night of your life,” he said seriously.

“There is very little about this night fit to tell any children, let alone our own,” you quipped.

Garreth gave you a lopsided smile. “Yeah,” he said wistfully. “It’s been a good one.”

You shook your head at him. “You’re incorrigible,” you said disapprovingly.

He stared at you like you were as luminous as one of the twinkling lights floating above you. “You’re incredible,” he said fondly before dipping his head to kiss you.

You melted in his arms as Garreth held you tight to his chest.

“Oi! Get a room, you degenerates!” Leander said, bumping Garreth’s shoulder as he twirled by with a sniggering Sebastian.

“That’s not as effective as you might think!” Garreth called back, making you laugh.