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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year

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Bright Like The Moon: Chapter 3

Chapter 3: If You Want To View Paradise

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Fandom: Night Hunter

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Black!OFC

Word count: 5.5K

Summary: Kamaria Mansfield is hired at the Minnesota Police Department as an intern. Detective Walter Marshall is overworked and unsatisfied. Takes place post-film.

Chapter Summary: Walter and Kamaria explore aspects of their relationship, including control and vulnerability. This chapter is pretty emotional, so heed the warnings!

Chapter warnings: Walter says ‘Fuck’ a lot, soft!Dom!Walter, spicy texting, sexting, unrealistic working hours of a detective I’m sure of it, emotional moments, flashback to a violent incident, aftercare

A/N: Very Walter-centric chapter. I wanted to get inside his head. But also, Kamaria is my protagonist, so I made her the beginning and end of the chapter. Un-beta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Cross-posted on AO3

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Kamaria’s POV

Monday Night

I had to call him Sir at least once. For science. Just to see if my hypothesis was correct. And it was. Seems my ‘handsome stranger’ likes to be in charge. And I like the thought of him in charge. A few other thoughts run through my mind at that.

My shyness went right out the door! I can’t believe I just told this man that his growl went straight to my kittycat. Well, I did use an emoji. But he understood very well.

And he didn’t have to growl like that and get me all hot and bothered, had me squeezing my thighs together the whole ride home.

And he called me Princess! My submissive ass was salivating so I had to drop another ‘Yes Sir’.

I ate my salad and got into bed so quickly to sate this need, my head could have spun. After I quenched my appetite in various ways, a thought occurred to me. What happens now? How do I act around him, knowing what I know and what he knows?

I’ll figure that shit out later, I guess. My brain is fried and my clit is blitzed. Put a fork in me, cuz I’m done.

Damn, I can’t wait til I’m wrecked because of him…

Walter’s POV

Tuesday Morning

I wake up to my phone trumpeting ‘How Soon Is Now?’ by The Smiths. I’m still in my clothes from last night, my half-hard dick still out. Awesome. I gently tuck myself back in, noting that the skin is still sensitive to the touch. I did promise to beat it like it owed me money.

I silence my phone and think back to last night. Texting with Kam had been…enlightening. Turns out my suspicions were correct. She likes to be submissive, maybe even a little bratty too. I’ll tame her only if she gets out of line.

Can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. If she liked the growl, she’ll enjoy my feral side. But I won’t get ahead of myself. Haven’t even kissed her yet.

Yet being the keyword. I plan on devouring her lips. Both sets. There I go getting ahead of myself again. I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing.

I shoot her a quick text, I want her to know I’m thinking of her.

Me: Good morning Beautiful

I set my phone to the side and get undressed to take a shower. As I’m getting the water to temperature, my phone dings twice.

Kam: No ‘Princess’?

Kam: 🥺

That fucking emoji is gonna be the death of me, I am declaring it right now.

Me: Good morning beautiful Princess

Me: Is that better?

Kam: Yessssssss

Kam: NOW I can start my day 😉

Kam: How did you sleep?

Me: I passed right out after a little…strenuous activity.

Let’s see how she handles that.

Kam: I also passed out after some ‘strenuous activity’.

Kam: A shame we couldn’t have coordinated that better…

Sounds like she handled that like a champ, and she is insinuating we could have helped each other. This woman!

Me: Are you saying we could have…

Me: Helped each other, Princess?

A full thirty seconds pass before my phone dings again. By that time, I am already in the shower. She will just have to wait. And I will have to wait as well, even though I could just as easily look at the lock screen from the shower door. Nah, patience is the key here. Patience for me and perhaps anxiety for her. I finish my shower, not toweling off, and reach for my phone which has dinged multiple times by now.

Kam: I mean there is always FaceTime

Kam: And I do live pretty close to work

Kam: So in essence, we are probably close to each other

Kam: Not that I’m saying I’m ready for a FaceTime booty call

Kam: Or another kind of booty call

Kam: It’s been…a while for me 🥺

Me: How long has it been Princess?

Kam: Over a year 😫

A fucking year? And no one has turned that pussy into mincemeat? Why am I suddenly angry? I know why. It’s because my brain can’t fathom this woman not getting everything she wants all the time.

Me: Was that by choice? Bad breakup?

Kam: You don’t know the half of it.

Kam: But I wanna tell you about it. Just not over text, in person is better.

Me: I’m all ears. When you’re ready.

Me: There is no rush Princess

Kam: Thank you Sir, ok I need to shower and get ready

Me: I already showered

Me: [image sent]

Why the fuck do I always have sender’s remorse? It’s only my chest, not my dick or anything. Oh, but my Adonis belt is visible a tad. And I’m still wet from the shower.

Kam: 🥵🥵🥵

Kam: Sir!!!

Kam: That’s what you’re hiding under those layers??

Me: Lol

Kam: I wanna rub my hands through that thicket of hair

Me: And here I thought Princess was a shy one

Kam: Oh, I’m not as shy with texting…

Kam: I haven’t even kissed you yet

Kam: And I’m already thinking of other ways to use my mouth

Kam: 🤤😛

Kam: How am I gonna focus at work?

Me: Keep calm and Carry On Princess

Kam: 😡

There’s my little brat. Let’s see how far she takes it.

Me: Is that backtalk??

Kam: NO!!!!!!

Kam: I just…am frustrated now

And she can reign it in after a little encouragement. I like that.

Me: Good. Stay frustrated.

Kam: 🥺

Me: Get ready for work Princess

Me: I’ll see you soon

Me: Text me when you get there

And with that, I put down my phone and get ready for my day and ignore whether or not my phone dings.

Walter’s POV

Tuesday Morning (continued)

I’m out the door after a while, ending up in the parking lot. Not in my usual spot as it was taken by a cute little silver Toyota, the driver checking herself out in the rearview mirror. I could crash this truck staring at her.

Me: You’re at work

Me: But I didn’t receive a text telling me so

Me: Hmm 🤔

Kam: I swear I just got here

Kam: I promise!!

Kam: Wait where are you??

Me: Be a good girl and go on in

Kam: Yes Sir

Not even an ounce of brattiness. Just an obeyed command. Fuck. I watch as she exits her car and locks it, walking towards the entrance. I exit my vehicle, just to the left of her, watching as she walks right by and into the building, smiling as she does. I notice she is wearing a heather grey box-pleat skirt and the way it hugs that ass is magical, the tops of her pink thigh-high socks are visibly hugging those deliciously thick thighs.

I send off a few texts as I follow behind her a few paces back.

Me: Hate to see you go

Me: Love to watch you leave

Me: 🍑

Me: A thing of beauty

I wait until she looks up at me from her phone screen and I toss her a grin, brushing past her as I walk to my office. Imperceptibly to anyone else around us, of course. We just look like two colleagues exchanging pleasantries.

Kam: Thank you 😊

Kam: Have to get to work now Sir

Me: Good girl

Me: Busy day today, but I’ll be sure to walk you out later

Me: See you then

Kam: See you later Sir

And with that, I ignore my phone for the rest of the day.

Not that I had to, Kam behaved herself. Every time I peeked at her desk, I saw that she was typing away on whatever assignment she was given. She goes out to lunch with the twins again today. I’m glad she is forming a routine here. Something to keep her busy on days I can’t seem to get a break. Like today.

Rachel barges in around 3 pm, fire in her eyes. No doubt something went wrong with the search teams this morning.

I was right, in a way.

“He lied,” Rachel scowls, throwing down the map of the bodies, “Not about the first four. The last body on this map isn’t who he said it would be. Why lie? I mean, after all the work you did to get it out of him. After all the work I put into this.” She sits in the chair across from me defeatedly.

Even after all this time, it’s hard to watch her be upset.

“Look, this is still a win. Even if he only gave us four out of five, that’s four more than we originally had. Four families can lay their loved ones to rest,” I tilt my head to try and reason with her, “This guy probably doesn’t even realize that he just made his situation worse by exposing that information.”

“You’re right. This is a win,” she blows out a satisfied breath, “I mean, if anything, now we have six confirmed kills. How often do killers bury their victims in the same place as another killer right?”

It would almost be comical if it wasn’t about murder.

“Exactly. Now, we need to get the location of that last body. Are you up for that?” I ask, secretly hoping she wants me to rough him up again.

“Yeah, I got this. If I need you, I’ll send Harper to come to collect you,” She stands up and reaches for my hand over the desk.

I take hers, knowing she just needed a positive touch in that moment. “You got this,” I say, letting her hand go after a slight squeeze.

“Detective Marshall?” Kamaria stands in my doorway, file in one hand, the hem of her pink button-up sweater clutched in the other hand.

Fuck.

Rachel lets go of my hand a little too slowly, waving as she hightails it out of my office.

“Um, the file you requested on, uh,-”

“That wasn’t what it looked like, Kam,” I get up and close the door slightly, making sure Rachel is down the hall. I stand just within arm’s reach.

“So, you weren’t holding her hand?” Her bottom lip quivers and I hate myself for being the cause of it.

“I did hold her hand, but it was nothing more than a friendly gesture. She’s dealing with a tough case at the moment. I just wanted to let her know I’m here for her. I promise that’s all.” I’m rambling now, it would seem.

“And you don’t like her?” She clutches the file to her chest, not yet looking me in the eye.

“I used to like her,” I watch as she stiffens slightly, “Now I barely tolerate her. She’s my ex.”

She finally looks up at me, an unshed tear in her eye. “Do you like me?”

“Yes,” I take the file from her hands and throw it on my desk. Using my thumb, I wipe at the tear as it threatens to fall upon her cheek, “I like you.”

“I like you too, I promise I’m not some jealous little girl and I probably have no right to be anyway. I just don’t have a good history with my ex and I saw her hand in yours and I…just…” She rattled on, wrapping her arms around herself and clutching the fabric of her sweater through shaky fingers.

“You have every right to be confused right now. I comforted my ex, the ex who literally told me she doesn’t need me. But let me make one thing clear,” I take her hands in mine and lean down so my forehead touches hers, “Yours are the hands I want to hold.”

I can feel her breathing pick up as she tilts her head to look from the door back to me. I don’t see the kiss coming, but the surprise of it has me reeling. Feeling her lips against mine is like breathing for the first time. Our tongues mingling is akin to tasting water after being in the desert. My hands long to wander but settle against her face. Our first kiss ends in panting breaths and passion restrained.

“Fuck,” is all I can croak out.

“Ditto,” she smiles, landing another peck at the corner of my mouth.

“Do you have plans tonight?” I put feelers out, wondering if she’d like to continue this.

“You tell me, Sir,” she is delighted when that response earns her a low growl. We are so close, I’m sure she can feel it rumble in my chest.

“Let me cook for you at my place tonight. We can talk and spend time together,” I press, hoping this isn’t too soon to invite her over.

“I’d like that,” she leans back to look into my eyes, “May I have one more kiss? Just one and then I’ll go and let you get back to work.”

“Just one?” I ask, sly grin unhidden. She nods, biting her bottom lip. I reach up and tug that lip free of her teeth and lean in. I debate saying ‘No’ to watch her squirm, but we both need this.

I put my hand behind her head and slot our mouths together. Promises untold and wishes unmade dream up an expanse that we occupy for a few moments more. We pull back to catch our breaths, and before I take her right here on my desk.

“Go back to work, Princess. We have about,” I check my watch and look back to her, “An hour and a half til the end of the day. Think you can make it without letting your mind wander too much?” I question. My thumb is ghosting over her bottom lip before she takes the digit into her mouth, letting it go with a little sucking sound. That goes right to my dick and it takes everything out of me to not adjust right myself right in front of her.

“I can handle it, Sir” she murmured, stamping a kiss on the tip of my nose, “The question is, can you?” She moves to back out of the office, but I pull her back in, spinning her around so that her back is flush against me.

I growl lowly, nuzzling into her ear while holding her hips against the evidence of her handiwork. “Feel that, Princess? That is all your doing. No one else does that to me,” I admitted, letting her try and squirm against me before guiding her toward the door again, “Feel free to think about that, and thanks again for the file.” I bellow, smiling at her as I opened the door for her to leave.

She is visibly flustered but wipes it away before going back to her desk without another word. This is too much fun.

Walter’s POV

Tuesday Evening

At about twelve after five, a knock on my door pulls my attention. Kamaria stands there, holding her coat and purse while dramatically checking a non-existent watch on her wrist.

“Quarter past a freckle, is it?” I shake my head and she laughs, coming all the way into the office.

“A freckle, indeed,” she teased, “I have a request, by the way. And you’re more than welcome to deny the said request. But you did also say that ‘mine are the hands you want to hold’ though”, she encouraged while doing a spot-on posh English accent to mimic my words.

“And your request would be…?” I wondered, watching as her face adorably scrunches up in thought, “Does Princess want to hold my hand as we walk out?” The look of disbelief on her face is 100% worth overcoming my fear of public displays of affection.

“How…ok, maybe I did make it a bit obvious. But I also wanna see Nina and Sophie’s faces when they realize I wasn’t joking about having my eye on someone. They kept trying to get me to talk to the waiter at the diner and give him my number.” She twirls one of her locs around a finger, while I push down the urge to get jealous about a waiter making eyes at her.

“I’ll hold your hand on the way out, under one condition,” She tilts her head and raises her eyebrows as I speak, curious about what she’ll have to agree to. “You let me eat you out tonight until I’m satisfied. No more, no less.” I dared, searching her eyes for intimidation of any kind.

“Hold up, you’ll hold my hand AND you wanna eat me out? Say less! Let’s get out of here, Sir,” she gushed, no doubt forgetting the phrase ‘until I’m satisfied’.

She’ll remember soon enough.

I stand up, grabbing my coat from the hook by the door. I reach out my hand to hold hers, and she smiles, locking our fingers. We walk out of my office, and down the hallway. I throw on my coat and help Kam into hers. The baffled faces of the twins as we walk by are more than enough, but the sputtering Nina does as I kiss Kam’s cheek is enough to do it all over again. Kam waves goodnight to her friends and we exit the building.

We walk to her car and I make sure she has my address programmed into her phone’s GPS before kissing her through the open car window. I get in my truck, pull out and wait for her to follow me. Before long, we are in the driveway and I’m taking her hand to help her out.

Walter’s POV

Tuesday Evening (continued)

While I am in the kitchen, whipping up a quick penne alfredo, I allow Kam to roam through the living room. She turns on a playlist from her phone to play on my Bluetooth speaker. She seems to like music that she can move to, and I do enjoy watching. As I set up our plates on the dining room table, I watch as she sways to a favorite of mine, ‘Human’ by Rag’n’Bone Man.

‘Oh, some people got the real problems

Some people out of luck

Some people think I can solve them

Lord heavens above

I'm only human after all

Don't put the blame on me

Don't put the blame on me’

I walk up behind her and slot my arms around her waist, swaying along with her. “Dinner is ready, Princess,” I informed, leaning to kiss her cheek. She beams at me, peeking around me at the table.

“It smells wonderful and I am starving,” she piped over the sound of the music.

She turns the volume down on the speaker and switches it to some light classical music. I recognize a piano arrangement of ‘Pure Imagination’ as she comes to join me at the table. I pull out her chair for her and she allows me to do so, my love language on full display. I sit across from her and nod for her to eat.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone cook for me before. I’m in my early thirties and I’m being romanticized and I’ll be honest, I don’t quite understand how to process this,” she says, twirling some noodles on her fork, “So, I’m doing what I always do and I’m letting my brain force words out of my mouth at high speed.” She stops herself, shoving almost too much food into her mouth and the most sinful moan follows. Noticing the smile on my face as I chew my first bite, she realizes all too quickly that I enjoy her sounds as she does mine.

“Good?” I surmise as she tries to hide her enjoyment.

“Very good,” she nods, stopping before taking another bite, “I absolutely love pasta. I’ve never met a pasta I don’t like. From a simple spaghetti to an intricate tagliatelli. I fucking love it. I love food. I’m sure that’s evident, right?” She shakes her head at herself, no doubt berating herself for putting herself down.

I put my fork down and put my hand over hers. “You know, it’s not hard to see your inner struggle with self-confidence. But, if I may say, the way you immediately try and correct yourself is astounding. In the same breath, you reign it in. A lot of us wish we had the same power. Don’t sell yourself so short.” I posit, trying to reassure her.

“I know that self-confidence is not exactly my strong suit. But I am confident about certain things in my life. Like my fashion sense and my taste in music,” she pauses, putting down her fork, “But before you? My preference for companionship left a lot to be desired.”

“How so?” I prod, giving her the space to talk freely.

“Um, that’s a long story honestly. But I want you to know the long and short of it, so I’ll just come out with it. I was in a long-term Dom/sub relationship where I was emotionally abused. And he went on to cheat on me multiple times…with my best friend of all people, which is why I find it difficult to trust most people. When I find a connection with someone, I tend to latch on to them tightly or push them away completely. I feel like I only know two emotions sometimes. Fear and loneliness.” Her hands reflexively flex, as if they are grabbing at the air. I place mine over hers and squeeze, urging her to continue.

“My ex, Christopher, and I met in college where we were art majors. He was absolutely beautiful. Sun-kissed skin, gorgeous blonde hair like spun gold, and these eyes that could draw you in making you feel like you were the only one in the room. We were like night and day, complete opposites. But he was relentless in his pursuit of me. He used to say I was his muse, a real starving artist type, ya know? Even though his parents paid for everything. Pretty soon, he moved me into his loft, with promises of love and understanding and I fell for every line he could throw out. Every lie, I fell for. Every half-truth, I believed. I was in love and nothing else mattered.” She squeezes my hand, and I rub the back of hers with my thumb.

“Soon after I agreed to marry him, he began to refer to me as his property. I was his, but he was never truly mine. He would comment on my weight, restricting my diet and putting on what I later realized were diet pills. He would say my best friend Britnee and I would be the perfect soulmate for him if we could somehow meld our personalities and bodies together. I would just laugh, I had no idea that I was being abused. I thought I was just in love with someone who wanted me to be better for them. And by better, what it really meant was, completely different. He wanted a doll. Someone he could parade around and do hideous acts to. Someone who wouldn’t complain about being mistreated.” Her breathing picks up and her eyes become vacant.

“He had never raised his hand to me in anger until the night I found out he and Britnee were having sex. There were times, of course, when he would take a ‘scene’ too far but I was able to bury those after a while. I told him I was leaving. He told me I couldn’t leave because I had no one to run to. That was true, my mother had given up on me completely when I was a child because she never wanted to be a mother. And my Dad was halfway across the world, working on his photography career. I was alone except for those two people who were draining me. One who treated me like a doormat and one who wanted what I had, weirdly enough. I walked in on them in our fucking bed and he gets mad at me, punching me full-force in the jaw. I barely reacted, I just knew I was done. When I say I barely reacted, it is a slight misjudgment of action. I picked up the nearest thing I could, my old sculpture of a heart I did my first week of art school and I hit him over the head with it.” I can only stifle a gasp, not sure where this was headed, but my interest was piqued tenfold at that moment.

“I hit him so hard that it knocked him out, and gave him a bit of brain damage as well. My Dad always told me that if a man raises his hands to a woman, she has every right to defend herself to whatever degree necessary. So, I did. And he never pressed charges against me. I doubt he even really remembers a lot of what he did. If he did, pressing charges would only shed light on the emotional abuse I suffered, so why bother?” She peeks at me for a second before continuing.

“I left that night. Never saw Britnee again either. And last I heard, Christopher was in rehab and quit art school. I was hospitalized soon after. I had gone to class for weeks after the incident until one day, I just stood up in class and started screaming and wouldn’t stop until EMTs were called and I was sedated. It was like my energy reserves were finally depleted. I had nothing left to hold onto. I was in the hospital for a week or two, medicated and getting therapy to deal with PTSD from being with a narcissistic lover and a terrible best friend. Until Nina and Sophia, I gave up on finding friends and letting people in. They still don’t know the details, but they know I had a bad breakup over a year ago. But I wanted to tell you the truth, I want you to know everything. So you can decide if I’m worth it.” She adds in the last sentence almost as a whisper.

“Where is Christopher now?” I coaxed, worried about her safety.

“Last I heard, and that was a year ago, he moved with his Dad back to Europe to be closer to his family. He still doesn’t remember what happened and I’m not sure I want him to.”

I place my hand on her cheek, ghosting over her warm skin. “Thank you for telling me. It means a lot to me that you would trust me with your past enough to bring me into the loop. And, please, believe me, this only makes me understand you more. It does not make me want to stop getting to know you.” She latches on to my hand where it rests on her cheek and locks eyes with me.

“Even after all I’ve said, you still want to be with me?” She chokes out, her armor cracking under the pressure of her truth.

“Of course I do, Princess. I, very much, still want to be with you. If you’ll let me,” I let go of her as she rounds the dining table and falls into my lap, crying her eyes out. “Shhh, I’m here, baby girl.” I cling to her in my arms, as tight as I can manage to try and convey that she is truly safe now.

I pick her up in my arms and carry her to the couch. I hold her in my lap and rest her head on my chest, running my thumb along her cheek as tears fall. “I’m right here, I’m not letting go.” I hum, rocking her back and forth in my arms.

“I…don’t like…seeming…weak,” she cries, still trying to hold onto a strong thread of her past.

“And you don’t seem weak. You are so strong for telling me. So strong. And I am so proud of you. Now, let me be strong for you, ok? You just reopened some old wounds and your body and spirit are going to need to rest. So let them. And I’ll be right here when you’re ready to talk again. I’m not going anywhere, Angel.” I kiss her forehead as she settles into me.

“You…wanted to…be intimate. I ruined it,” she whimpers, clutching my arms as I hold her tight.

“No, you didn’t ruin a thing. Don’t worry about that, my main concern is your safety and your comfort. You will never be alone as long as I’m here, I promise you that. Now, rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” I feel her body snuggle down and relax into me.

Kamaria’s POV

Tuesday Evening

I awake late in the evening, still perched on Walter’s lap. His arms are still around me, his head tilted against the back of the couch. Soft snores escape his lips, his chest rising and falling in a comforting rhythm. I look at the clock on the bookshelf as it blinks at 9:27. The Bluetooth speaker now softly playing ‘Clair de Lune’.

I look back to Walter as he shifts in his sleep, never letting me go. The serenity in which we sit contradicts our earlier conversation. I try and reconcile that I needed aftercare after speaking about my past relationship. I did lay it all out on the line, I’m actually not that surprised that my entire body needed a recharge.

I listen to the song float on to the ending and reach up to caress Walter’s face. He slowly smiles, eyes still closed, turning his head to kiss my palm.

“There’s my Angel,” he looks down at me, “How are you feeling?”

“Lighter, like a weight, has been lifted,” I sighed, placing my hand on his chest, “You’re the first person outside of my therapist to know about all this.”

“Thank you for letting me in, for trusting me with it,” he cooed, placing his hand over mine.

“For the record? I also like being called Angel, especially in this kind of setting,” I admit, not wanting to use the word and risk embarrassment.

“Do you mean especially during aftercare?” he soothed, no doubt reading my mind.

“Yes,” I mumble, cuddling into him, “and I really like to hear ‘Clair de Lune’. It helps to ground me.”

“Alright. I think I’ve got it. Hold you tight, call you Angel, and play your comfort song. We’ll add to the list if need be.” His sweet voice is truly a marvel to go along with his massive frame.

We look into each other’s eyes for a beat, leaning in at the same time to press our lips together. Not as passionate as earlier in the day, but it doesn’t need to be. This kiss is more of a tenderness than a need to thrill.

“I think I need to head home, I really am still quite tired and need to let you get rest,” I mutter, secretly hoping he doesn’t ask me to stay, not knowing whether or not I’m ready to stay.

“Yes, it is late. And I wouldn’t want you feeling too tired for work tomorrow,” he cautioned, lifting himself effortlessly with me still in his arms. He places me down on my feet and kisses my forehead. “I’ll walk you to your car, Princess.”

My tiny hand in his massive paw genuinely makes my heart flutter as we take our time to kiss goodbye, leaning against my car. I could kiss him until the sun rises, but instead, he pulls away and straightens my coat collar around my neck. I’m not used to being cared for and I think he can tell, but he still does the most anyway. Before he lets me go, he pulls off his sweater and shoves it in my hands, making me promise to text him when I get home. Did I just get a ‘boyfriend sweater’ shoved at me?

I get home, immediately shedding layers in the bedroom and putting on his sweater, sending a quick text.

Me: Home now!

Walter Marshall: Is it weird I gave you a jumper and not a hoodie?

Me: It smells like you, I’ll take all the jumpers you wanna donate

Walter Marshall: You’re wearing it now aren’t you

Me: [image sent]

Walter Marshall: It suits you

Walter Marshall: Godddd those legs

Walter Marshall: Can’t wait to have them wrapped around me

Me: Around your shoulders or your hips?

Me: 😈

Walter Marshall: Both?

Walter Marshall: Both.

Walter Marshall: Both are good.

Me: Dork

Walter Marshall: You like this dork and he likes you back so what does that make you

Me: Seriously lucky 😇

Walter Marshall: Good.

Walter Marshall: It’s late Princess

Walter Marshall: Ready for bed?

Me: Ready

Me: Cuddle me?

Walter Marshall: Always

Walter Marshall: Night Princess

Me: Night Sir

A/N: It was touch and go there for a second, hope you enjoyed it!! 💜💙

Chapter 4

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parapluiepliant · 6 years

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Hey peeps! I know it's been a while since I was active here and I missed out on a lot but my Work and Travel experience in Canada is quite tiring at times which keeps me from going online.

However, it also has it's very rewarding times to it as you can see here with that beautiful rainbow in front of a waterfall at Johnston Canyon close to Banff.

Knowing that we all go through a rough patch at the moment, I hope that this photo will remind you that there is always gold at the end of the rainbow as long as we keep going. And I know that this fandom is a master in turning any form of negativity into positivity with the means of memes, fanfics, edits, vids, gif sets, metas and many, many more.

In the same breath, I also want to thank all those people that still do their best to keep the fandom going and, personally, want to thank all those good souls that still think of me and tag me despite my involuntary absence. Much appreciation and gratitude from me to you, folks!

In no particular order:

@moonaskingtostay @griffinnblake @nightbleeder @head-and-heart @jasperjoordan @lightcomingthroughthedarkness @thehundredtimesobsessed @starboybellamy @tracylorde @sly2o @pendragaryen @blakeperalta @amazalina @junebugninja @fromtheasheswewillrisetogether @weavemeamyrtlecrown @insufficient-earth-skills @tristanthorne @bellsclarkey @blyedeeks @as-inevitable-as-morning @em-ori @dropshipmail @a-timely-interruption

@ all my Anons and so many more I probably forgot or cannot find because of alias changes and my current scatterbrain.

Do me a favor and tag them, for me to find them again, or just for them to see that small rainbow before tonight's episode. :)

Be well, be kind.

#posts von meiner wenigkeit #bfsn #I totally forgot how to tag stuff #please send help #my brain is fried and I still have a few hours of work ahead #so no live watching for me

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peterparkersnose · 2 years

Text

the witch and the spider chapter 6- blink

tasm!peter x reader

tasm/nwh!peter x reader

NO WAY HOME SPOILERS

After you and your Uncle, Doctor Strange, closed the portal on the statue of liberty life went back to almost normal. Besides the fact that the two other worldly Peter's were trapped in your universe.

*this is probably the farthest thing from anything canon

*Tony Stark, Black Widow, young Steve Rogers, Vision, Loki are all alive

*Timeline is completely off for some facts

next chapter linked at the bottom

word count: 2.5k

warnings: anxiety, negative body image, injury

a/n you guys i’m starting to really fall in love with this fic, it started out eh but these last few chapters are just *chefs kiss*

masterlist

read time: 9 mins and 26 seconds

gif credit @rebeatros

Peter found himself in a white room. A light blinked from above him, too far to see up. The light burnt out, and quickly snapped back on. In the room then emerged Gwen. Peter ran to her, grabbing her in his arms. She still felt the same in his embrace, the deja vu kicked in. "Gwen!" he yelled, kissing her hard on the lips. She laughed. Peter then realized. "Gwen,"

Gwen was dead.

"Peter, don't be afraid." she smiled. "Your going to be okay."

"What- how are you- how am I?" Peter scrambled to say.

"Your not going to stay. I can tell you that much right now." she laughed, crossing her arms. "What? No, I want to stay. Gwen, I want to be with you please let me stay!" he cried, tears rolling down his face.

"No Peter, it's not your time. You have more to do." Gwen reassured him.

"Oh Peter, you have such a good life ahead of you." she chuckled. "I'm liking this Y/N your hanging out around."

"What? O-oh she's just a friend I-"

"Please. I want you to be happy. I need you to Peter. For me," she sighed. "Gwen, let me stay!"

"Go to her Pete. Trust me, she's a keeper. You have my blessing."

"Gwen," he cried, a full on ugly sob. "I am so sorry."

"Peter, I have never been angry with you. I know you did what you could- it wasn't your fault. I don't blame you for my death. I still love you. I want to see you lead a healthy loving life. It hurts me to watch you live this lonely life, all because of me." Gwen sighed, holding Peter in her embrace.

"For me Peter, please."

She touched the side of his cheek, and Peter rested his hand against hers. As he did that, the room became empty and he regained his consciousness in his body.

You were found by both of the Peter's left. Peter 3 let a signal go out of his suit once you were unconscious. He was mostly fried, nerve shock. The Peter's freaked out when they found you, especially Peter 1. He thought you were dead, that Electro really did it. He held your body, mourning you. He had just lost his Aunt and now he thought he had lost one of his closest friends.

You two were rushed into the medical in Stark Towers. They would have taken you to a regular emergency room, but with your powers you were unpredictable. Stark's doctors took care of you two fine.

Peter 3 had sustained minor burns to his thighs, where most of the impact was sustained. His nerves were temporarily fried, leaving him in a frozen state for a few days. His body would eventually catch up with his brain, but doctors weren't sure if it'd be a few hours or days. He could look around, breathe, was deemed conscious and aware. He couldn't speak or move his body. His skin was charred black, his hair looked like it was straight ironed up. Nothing a good shower (or in his case, sponge bath) couldn't fix.

You were out of energy. Simply, your body barely had enough to keep you breathing and your heart beating. You were given an IV of fluids to rejuvenate your body of it's natural energy. That helped your natural human restoration powers start working again. When those were working, your recovery was a fast and easy one. You were fine by the next afternoon. Of course, you had some natural fatigue and body trauma, but you were ordered to rest and be off duty for the next week.

You were released from the medical wing. You went back to your apartment in Stark Towers. Everything was the same. You could tell your cleaning lady had been there, the kitchen was spotless. You made your way to your room, and curled up in your bed.

You hurt him.

Peter is in the hospital because of you-

Tears rolled down your face as your anxiety attack set in.

Meanwhile in the hospital, Peter's Spider Senses set off. The nurses were astonished by the amount of brain activity that went off during this time. He could sense something was wrong, and it definitely involved you. He was in no imminent danger. It was different than his usual sense too- this one felt more intimate.

A shower sounded like a great idea. After all, you hadn't been able too after your fight. A shower would due you good, you were in desperate need of one. The water washed the dirt and grime off. You noticed a small stitching on the side of your waist. The thread was feeling tight, so you pulled it out. Painful to say the least. You watched your skin absorb the wound. You made a mental note to put a note in your medical file about stuff like that.

The hot water poured down your body. You stared at the drain, trying not to think of Peter. The guilt in you was so bad, you felt like you had to throw up.

Once you were out of the shower, you stood in front of your body length mirror. You had always had issues with body image, but when your anxiety was high your confidence became lower and lower. Your thick thighs were always your point of mental abuse. Sure, an hourglass figure and semi-normal tits were a blessing. The little pouch of fat on your stomach and your thighs drove you crazy. No matter how much training you endured, they never left. You always excused it as your human side- you weren't a perfect looking god such as your father once was.

Sweatpants, a tight tank top, and a black hoodie suited you well. You tried to find anything in your home to do to distract yourself. Cleaning was already done. No food in the fridge, no eating. TV was boring as always. You were banned from the training room for the next week. Oh, how this was going to be fun.

You paced your apartment staring at the tiled floor. One foot per tile kept you occupied. Your thoughts rambled on about Peter. Thinking about what he's thinking about, to your crush, and that lead to a rabbit hole of: you two together, sex, dates, romantic gestures, proposals, kids-

You had to stop yourself. You couldn't let yourself think like this. He was going to go home. He didn't belong here. You knew that better than anybody else. You quickly emptied those thoughts and tried to sleep. Sure, it was 7:30 PM. Why not get an extra few hours.

Meanwhile in the medical ward, Peter 3 said his first words since the accident. "Y/N," he whispered. A nurse turned around and quickly wrote your name down on a piece of paper. She got a doctor, and he inspected Peter.

"Mr. Parker, listen. Blink once if we heard you correctly. You said, Y/N?" he asked.

Peter blinked once.

"What can we do to help? Would you like to hear about Y/N's condition?"

Peter blinked once.

"Alright, here." the doctor said, pulling your file up on a tablet. "Y/N L/N was discharged an hour and a half ago. She was drained of energy when she arrived. Once we got her natural energy back, her self reparation powers began properly functioning again. She was deemed well enough to be discharged and was approved by her Doctor. She is on medical leave from her duties and required at least a week of rest before resuming her duties at Stark Towers."

Peter took a deep breathe.

"Blink once if you need anything else," the doctor said, handing his tablet off to the nurse.

Peter blinked again.

"Would you like to see Miss L/N?"

Peter began blinking rapidly.

"Okay, okay Mr. Parker. Two blinks if that is a yes."

Peter blinked twice.

Tears started coming to his eyes. He wanted to see you so badly, more than anything else at that moment.

You were almost asleep, when your speaker system beeped in your apartment. You groaned and rolled over in bed.

"Y/N L/N, you are requested in the medical ward."

Your eyes shot open, and you almost sprinted out of bed.

Peter was either awake, or died.

Please be okay please be okay

You flew down the stairs, almost knocking over Bucky. You gave him a quick apology rushing past him.

You were met by one of Peter's nurses. You were out of breathe and disheveled. "Miss L/N, we really recommend no physical activity-" "Is he okay?" you interrupted. "He is asking for you,"

You let out a sigh of relief.

The nurse lead you to Peter's room. You gasped when you saw him in his state. His legs all bandaged up, he wasn't moving. "Peter," you gasped. His eyes started blinking rapidly as his vitals increased.

"Mr. Parker's nerves suffered some severe damage. It is all temporarily, but you will have to move right next to him if you want to communicate." the doctor explained.

You moved next to Peter. You looked down, swiping a strand of hair behind your ear. "Oh my god," you gasped. Peter managed to curl his lips into a tiny smile. "I- I am so sorry."

All he could do was blink his eyes.

He wanted to scream out.

"Don't be upset. This isn't your fault. I am so sorry. You look so beautiful. I will be okay. Everything is okay."

Hell, he wanted to jump up and kiss you.

You grabbed his hand, and you felt his fingers twitch in his palm. A tear started to roll down his eyes, matching yours.

"Hey, no no no. Please don't cry." he wanted to belt out. He didn't want you feeling like this was your fault.

You grabbed his hand tightly. Peter felt calm for the first time in hours. His vitals returned down to normal.

You sat with him all night. Peter didn't want to sleep. He wanted to spend every moment he had with you.

The thing with being in this state is you get to think. All the time in the world to think. And when he felt you grab his hand on that roof, and now, he realized something. He wanted you. Always there by him. He hadn't felt this way since Gwen. Oh, Gwen. He couldn't get her voice out of his head. "Go to her Peter," rang in his skull over and over again. "For me," followed it.

He didn't care anymore. He didn't care about anything but you. He was willing to give up his whole other universe just for you.

It was near three am now. You sat in the uncomfortable medical chair half awake, still holding Peter's hand. Peter was asleep. You tried to think of anything you could do to help this poor boy. Any medical devices Tony might have invented lying around. Anything you could have read in a book. You were thinking of your own recovery when you remembered your powers. Your healing powers.

What if I try to transfer them to him?

You didn't care about your own medical risk. This could take a lot of your energy, and you needed that.

"Pete, hey." you whispered, shaking his shoulders gently. He was delighted to wake up to your face. "I'm going to try something, just hold on."

You placed your hands on his abdomen. If he wasn't completely comatose, he would be having an internal heart attack by about now. You mustered the feeling of his pain through your hands, and tried releasing as much energy as you could into him. After a while, you were becoming exhausted. You then almost collapsed, falling backwards in the room. You were caught by two warm hands holding you tight.

"Y/N?" Peter asked, holding you in his arms. At this point, you just felt like you had been up for three days. Awake, but exhausted. "Did that really work or am I hallucinating?" you asked him. He smiled, pulling you closer. He grabbed your cheek, and kissed you.

"Definitely hallucinating." you yawned, rocking in his arms. Peter let out a tiny laugh. "You saved me," he smiled.

"Saved you? Your dumbass took the blow of Electro," you chuckled. "I'm not full human Peter. I could have sustained that." "I couldn't bare the thought of him hurting you," Peter sighed. "Here,"

He pulled you closer to him in his hospital bed. There was barely enough room for the both of you. You rested your head on his shoulder. "How do I know this is real?" you asked him. "Tell me something only you would know." you asked, looking up and meeting his brown eyes. "Let me think," he said. "I remember when I came to check on you, when MJ was there," he began. You nodded your head. "When I came back to get the last digit- I heard you screaming with MJ about me."

You sighed. "Oh, uh-" you laughed in embarrassment. "It's cute." he smiled. He took your hand and interlocked it with yours. "This is bad," you chuckled. "Bad how?" Peter asked, suddenly concerned. "No, I'm very happy right now. But Peter, your from another universe." you sighed. You squeezed his hand tighter. You hated the thought of him leaving. "You know- in the few days I've been here. I love it." "Yes, but you need to go home." you sighed. "Y/N I don't want to go home."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to come on too strong. But Y/N, there's something about you that I didn't get with Gwen. My senses- my body reacts to you. I'm drawn to you in ways I've never been drawn to anyone else,"

"Wait shut up,"

"What?"

"No Peter, my senses have been all off ever since you came here. I can't read your aura. Your vibrations everything when I'm around you just- feels right."

"Oh?" Peter asked. He was grinning so hard.

"Your right, I don't want to come on too strong. But Peter-" you said, looking up at him. "My Uncle couldn't read his ex-girlfriend's aura. And ever since then, he hasn't ever had a good relationship that lasted very long."

"Oh so your saying we're soulmates," he laughed. You yawned, and moved your arms to around his bicep. "No, well-"

"What about her?" you asked him. He knew that the 'her' you were referring to was Gwen. Peter could hear the tiny feeling of encouragement given to him by Gwen.

"It's okay." he smiled. "She said it's okay."

BONUS: At the Sanctum Sanctorum, Dr. Strange paced around the floors. He had been trying to conjure a recipe to send the Peter's home for days. No spell he could find was right.

Sure, he could send both of them home. To different universes. Or, stranded in the jungle of a universe, the possibility of it being theirs was slim to none. He searched through old scripture and writings.

He had finally found one that could possibly work. He was so excited and read the ancient text. Everything seemed perfect, correct universes and everything. But one would have to stay. An exchange for the other in the eyes of the universe that seemed fair.

He threw his hands in the air and grunted, skipping to the next old text to find possibly anything.

Little did he know, he just found the answer to everything.

Chapter 7

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tsunderedoctor · 3 years

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Hi Purple 💖 I would like to request Headcanons...or mini scenarios? Whatever you want and are motivated to write! I think it's kinda an alternative universe idea?

The idea is: character and female reader had an argument/fight (you can decide why or just not mention the reason). Then character leaves for work and when he comes back he finds his s/o (sleeping and) cuddling with a pillow that wears his shirt.

How do they react? Characters are: Marco, Kidd, Shanks and if you want you can add Law?

Thanks a lot, have a great day and stay safe! ✨

Oh interesting idea! Sorry for the delay on answering this btw!! Also I changed a few of the cuddling portions so they were holding other items in their sleep, hope that’s okay! I also kept these in their world by accident- like I reread your ask and just realized now you wanted an AU- I’m so dumb-

I can totally rewrite a new prompt if you don’t like these ones! I’m so sorry my brain is fried 😭😭

Warning: swearing; mostly on Kid’s part, mentions of self-hatred on Shanks

Babes down below!!

Marco

You two rarely argue; usually Marco’s chill demeanor makes it easy to find a middle ground. However, after Whitebeard’s death, Marco has been picking up more responsibilities to keep the Whitebeard pirates in check. Which means he was working over his usual hours. You only brought it up out of worry for his wellbeing, but Marco took it in a more personal matter that you felt the crew wasn’t important.

In the end, you found yourself both upset and confused on how you feel. In both your minds you were right and you two were too stubborn to apologize. Marco went ahead and headed out first to check on the crew leaving you alone in your shared room.

You knew he wouldn’t come back till late tonight, meaning you had time to go through your emotions and thoughts alone. After a few hours you were finally able to see where he came from and how your words might have hurt him. A feeling of sadness washed over knowing he was probably still in some way hurt. Feeling tears prick your eyes, you quickly stand up and grab the first thing of his you can find. Curling up in bed you held his night shirt tightly to your chest, eventually you felt unsatisfied with just hugging his shirt and found yourself placing it around his pillow. Feeling his scent and some cushion you eventually drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Marco returned a few hours later, still feeling the ping of hurt himself at your words earlier. Knowing you were probably asleep he didn’t announce himself and got undressed to throw on his night clothes. Noticing his night shirt wasn’t where it was from that morning he turned to see if he left it on the bed. Seeing your sleeping figure holding his pillow with his shirt made his heart throb.

Finding himself crawling into bed next to you, he gently moved the pillow out of your arms and replaced them with his own body. Kissing your forehead as a silent apology the blond found himself overcome with a much needed rest.

Eustass “Captain” Kid

This man can’t help but argue! He loves to see the fire in your eyes and doesn’t mind if you swat at him a few times. However, everyone has their breaking points and he found yours. He likes to get under people’s skin, it’s what he’s good at, but seeing those idiots; Strawhat and the Surgeon of Death; not giving a shit about him put the red head in a foul mood.

Coming to check on his bandaged limb you didn’t expect to be greeted with a scowl. Figuring it wasn’t your problem and that he would get over it eventually you made your way over to rebandage him.

“Fuck off, I ain’t got time to deal with you shit.”

Feeling your smile twitch at his cold words you quickly sat the medical kit down and went to work. Grabbing his arm, you went to undo the bandage before he shoved you hands away.

“Are you deaf now too? Get lost, go find someone else to nag bitch.”

“You need to change your bandage, or do you want to get an infection smart ass?” You can feel your own anger rising from the surface, but tried to keep your cool knowing it wouldn’t work out for either of you.

“Like I give a shit, besides my devil fruit won’t let me get hurt too much, I ain’t weak like the likes of you.”

Clenching your hands, you tried once more to grab at the bandage.

“For fuck’s sake, when will you learn? I don’t need you!”

That was it, those words alone drove into your heart and down to your feet. You stood up and walked out leaving the man to bandage himself if he wanted to. He didn’t need you? Fine, let him rot away then.

You didn’t stop walking until you found yourself face first in your bed. Your body shaking on adrenaline alone as a broken sob exits your sore throat. Why did you even try with him? Sometimes you wondered if you were the crazy one between you two for even trying. Turning to face the window you were entangled with his fur coat. As another sob escaped your lips you clenched the coat for dear life.

After he had his time to cool down and ask someone else to rewrap his bandage, Kid came to grab his coat for another cold night of drinking. He figured you went out as well, but seeing you curled up fast asleep and using his coat as some blanket made the man want to stay indoors instead. He would never openly admit his apologies to you, but the least he could do would not wake you up in the morning with a hungover mess. He owed you that much.

“Red Haired” Shanks

Another one where you just don’t see yourself arguing with. He’s generally level headed and serious when he needs to be and knows just the right words to cheer you up. However, there were things that seemed to gain you the opportunity to see the red headed devil.

The man hates when you belittle yourself for whatever reason. In his eyes you are perfect, so why would you doubt his words. Are you subconsciously calling him a liar? It annoys the red head to no end seeing you struggle with your self-worth. Just when will you see how amazing you are?

However, seeing his fiery glare only backfired. Instead of understanding his side you quickly fell into a bigger form of self-hatred. You managed to make even him angry with you? Now you know for sure how pathetic you are.

Quickly walking out of the room before he could lash out at you, you ventured to the bedroom. Trying to wipe away your tears you found yourself hiding in your makeshift comfort space. Shank’s closet wasn’t spacious, but it managed to fit you in at the tail end right corner. Giving you the space you needed to calm down when things got too rough. Taking a deep breath, you held on to a worn out shirt of his, feeling yourself slowly relax your overwhelming nerves.

Shanks watched you leave and felt you needed time to digest his disappointment and irritation. He doesn’t mean to show his anger, but he also wants you to see how important you are to him. Deciding to give you the rest of the day to come to terms with that was the best he could do. Once the sun finally set and his crew was good for the night, he made his way to his room. Already forgetting his anger he happily entered and was greeted with a quiet emptiness. Looking around he couldn’t find you in the room nor the bathroom. Heading back to the room he almost left when he heard a quiet sound coming from his closet.

Opening it to see what it was, his worry quickly turned into relief and sadness. Your tear stained face was fast asleep while you were drooling cutely on a worn shirt of his. Sighing to himself at his stupidity for leaving you alone, he picked you up and placed you in bed. Perhaps he should find a better way to express how much you mean to him.

Trafalgar D. Water Law

Law has always been a stubborn man. Ever since birth the world had to work his way or he refused to accept it. You supposed that made sense how he managed to live so long with what he had faced. Still, it didn’t mean he was always right.

Law had decided to leave on his own for Punk Hazard, without the support of his crew. He felt that this was a battle he had to face alone. Part of you knew what he meant, but another part wish he understood the crew saw him as family too.

Voicing your concerns and feelings fell on deaf ears as the man continued to pack his things. Biting your lip you tried to make one last feeble attempt to get him to let the crew come.

“What if you don’t come back?” Your voice was barely a whisper as you felt the pain of bringing those thoughts to the air; but it was too late as he faced you.

“Then that means I failed and you picked a shitty captain to follow.” Whether he was joking or not you couldn’t tell, but his answer made your heart hurt even more. Shitty? Please he was the best, whether he wanted to admit it or not. No one could come close to accomplish the things he had in such time.

Stating he had to grab more things from the operation room before leaving for the night, he left you alone and empty inside your once sacred place. The rest of the day left you with no chance to talk with him as he seemed to avoid you like the plague. By the time the sun set you found yourself curled up against Bepo. He was another one who seemed to worry about his beloved captain. You had eventually drifted into a fitful sleep while the unsteadiness of the situation tried to settle in your stomach. Bepo was about to cover you up when Law entered the shared space among the crew.

“Captain! Are you leaving now?”

Law turned to face Bepo, seeing your worried expression even in your sleep. He nodded a silent reply before walking over to you two. “Once you reach Zou remember to stay hidden; if I don’t come, make sure no one finds out who you guys are. Trafalgar Law dies with your names as well, understand?”

Bepo could only nod and accept his captain's words as his grey eyes turned to face your sleeping figure. Taking off his old hat and replacing it with his new one, he placed the withered one on your head. It’s time to start anew for everyone, and that means you too.

#tsunderedoctor #ask #marco one piece #eustass captain kid #eustass kid #trafalgar d water law #tafalgar law #marco x reader #kid x reader #trafalgar law x reader #red haired shanks #red hair shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks x reader #one piece #one piece headcanons

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yoongiseesawmp3 · 3 years

Text

just about perfect - seonghwa

howdy folks, back with another fic but i’m switching it up on ya! i might start writing regularly for ateez as well so y’all are cool with that right? right.

summary: this is NOT inspired by seonghwa saying he watches nevertheless. why would you even think that.

warnings: not the kind of warning u were expecting but there’s no smut (i know its based off a show abt friends with benefits so that’s why i’m warning u. do not get ur hopes up) a little cussing, a lotta me waxing poetic abt the perfect man park seonghwa. also slight tomfoolery from the teezers

word count: 10.6k

the bookstore just off campus is your current go-to study spot, mostly because the cafe inside has a drink special where you buy one coffee and get a voucher for the new bakery next door. so, let’s just say the past few days you’ve been well caffeinated and well fed. you’re on the way there now, already planning out what your treats are going to be.

today you were supposed to meet your “study group” after your last class of the day, but it looks like you’re the only one here so far. and you say “study group” loosely, the professor for your music theory elective encouraged everyone to make a study group for the upcoming final and your group of friends chose to work together. there’s been no studying going on, though.

especially not when hongjoong’s new friend seonghwa has been flirting with you literally nonstop. he’s apparently friends with everyone else in your group too. san knows him from an art class they took together last semester, meanwhile wooyoung and yeosang claim they lived on seonghwa’s floor freshman year and he always bought them booze. seonghwa denies it, only because hongjoong would slap him if he admitted to buying alcohol for underage kids.

tasteful delinquency aside, seonghwa is a fine person. you mean personality fine, not like, fine fine even though san would beg to differ. he knows you’ve developed a thing for seonghwa despite trying not to, and he’s secretly trying to get you two together.

which is why san suddenly texts you and says he can’t make it, and neither can yeosang or wooyoung. they decided to ditch studying to practice for the final in their dance class instead, so it’ll be just you, seonghwa and hongjoong. and little did you know, hongjoong was trying to do the same thing as san. so we’ll see how this goes.

“y/n, you can’t do that,” hongjoong warns you, referring to the scale you were trying to fill out.

“why not?” you ask, looking down at your work and wondering what’s wrong.

“because it’ll sound like shit,” seonghwa replies before sipping his coffee.

“what he said,” hongjoong agrees, grabbing your paper and erasing some of the notes you had scribbled out. “it should look more like this.”

you glance over at what he’s done on top of your old work and sigh. you took this class because you like music, and you thought learning about how it works would be interesting, but it’s hard.

“can’t you just do all my work for me?” you plead. at this rate, you don’t think you’ll be able to pass the final.

“no, i don’t want you dragging me down in this class,” hongjoong replies. “my grades are great.”

“i hate you.”

“what are you struggling with, y/n?” seonghwa asks as he finally looks up from his laptop. he had been working on an assignment for another class this whole time because he, like hongjoong, is great with music theory. so maybe this study group was a good thing.

“here, you can switch seats with me,” hongjoong says as he clears the spot next to you on the weathered loveseat. “i’m going to look for a book i should’ve started reading two weeks ago.”

before you can protest, seonghwa is sliding his laptop across the coffeetable and slides himself into the spot next to you. when he sits you notice your thighs are touching, which is weird because there was plenty of space when hongjoong was here. you don’t know that seonghwa is doing this on purpose, that hongjoon really left so he could flirt with the cute cashier in the cafe to give you and seonghwa some alone time.

“so,” seonghwa starts once he’s settled. “what are you struggling with?”

“hmm, all of it?” you reply. your answer makes seonghwa smile, and you like the way his eyes sparkle when he does.

“then i guess we’ll be here a while.”

about an hour later, seonghwa has walked you through all the major and minor scales you need to know for the test and you’re starting to understand a little more. you’re still having problems with the back of the study guide where you have to come up with note combinations that can apply to those scales, but you have time to work on that since the final is two weeks out. right now, your brain is fried and you need a break.

“do you mind if i go get a coffee?” you ask seonghwa, who was in the middle of sending you the minor scale cheat sheet he made. he looks up from his laptop and shakes his head before he speaks.

“i would only mind if i can’t come with you.”

“it’s literally right over there, why do you need to come with me?” you question.

“i think i would just miss you too much,” he pouts, and you roll your eyes. seonghwa shuts his laptop and stands up. “what if i need coffee too?”

“you already had one,” you remind him as you stand.

“yeah,” he nods. “but teaching you is exhausting, so i need another. c’mon.”

he walks ahead of you to the counter, and you’re too busy searching for your wallet to notice he took his jacket off, revealing a sneaky tattoo on the back of his neck. it isn’t until you’re behind him in line that you get a look at the hand drawn star right on the nape of his neck, and you have to refrain from reaching out to trace the lines.

“i didn’t know you had a tattoo,” you decide to say. he turns around and instinctively rubs his hand across the tattoo, smiling at you with those sparkly eyes again.

“yeah, i have a couple,” he replies. “but this one is my favorite.”

“why?”

“because my name means ‘to become a star’, so i like knowing that i have a reminder with me all the time,” he explains.

“nice. it’s really pretty.”

“thanks, so are you.”

“sir?” the barista calls, pulling seonghwa’s attention from you. he steps up to give his order as you stare at the tattoo again, noticing alongside it a couple of freckles that almost make it look like a constellation.

“y/n?” seonghwa’s voice draws you out of your thoughts and you realize he’s finished ordering. “what do you want?”

“oh, i can get it,” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“no, my treat,” he insists, and you sheepishly walk up to the counter to give your order. seonghwa makes a mental note of what you get, and he also snatches the bakery voucher from you before you can put it in your pocket. you make a confused sound and seonghwa laughs.

“why’d you do that?” you whine.

“you only get to use it if you come with me to the bakery later,” he teases. “say yes or i’m drinking your coffee and getting myself an extra cupcake.”

“fine,” you huff. “but i have an assignment due at midnight, so i can’t stay long.”

“it’s 4pm, that’s not enough time for you to finish it?” he asks while you step out of the way for the next customers.

“i haven’t started yet,” you admit.

“you like saving things until the last minute, don’t you?”

“what makes you say that?”

“well, it looks like you haven’t been studying music theory at all, and now this,” he shrugs.

“not everybody can be perfect like you, park seonghwa,” you grumble as the barista places two coffee cups on the bar. you hear seonghwa giggle shortly, and you give him a questioning look.

“so you think i’m perfect?” he smirks.

it’s the next day, almost midnight, and you really need spray paint.

why? well, you’re stressed because you have so much to study for your finals and you don’t know where to start. yes, seonghwa helped yesterday, but he’s not in all your other classes, so you’ve decided you need a break from tearing your hair out over the material you can’t comprehend. the best way to distract yourself from that is to finally paint that dresser you got from a garage sale a few months ago, hence the spray paint.

thankfully, san is still awake, and he has a car, so you ask him to pick you up for a quick run to the art supply store that’s surprisingly still open. a bonus of going to college in the city, you can get anything almost whenever you need it.

“thanks for coming to get me,” you tell san as you hop into his car.

“no problem,” he replies. “i was bored and hongjoong said he needed paint pens so this is a win-win situation. plus, i get to hear about your date with seonghwa yesterday.”

“it was not a date,” you groan, choosing to ignore the suggestive way san is looking at you right now.

“but you spent the whole afternoon together,” san starts. “he bought you coffee and you went to the bakery together and talked about, like, your favorite colors and stuff. sounds like a date to me.”

“how do you know all that?”

“seonghwa told hongjoong and then hongjoong told me,” he explains as he turns onto the street that’ll take you to the art store.

“well tell hongjoong that i’m still mad at him for ditching us,” you reply. “and i’m still kinda mad at you and the other two for bailing in the first place.”

“hey, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had your first date with seonghwa,” san points out.

“it was not a date!” you cry. “we studied most of the time we were together, then he bought my coffee and bullied me into going to the bakery. i couldn’t stay long because i had a paper to write, so we talked about stupid shit until i had to leave.”

“it sounds like the beginning of true love to me,” san sing-songs.

“stop the car, i’ve decided to walk.”

when you get to the store, san separates from you quickly because he sees his friend mingi behind the counter. they’re busy talking while you search the store for the paints, and you’re so busy looking up at the aisle names that you don’t notice you’re about to run into someone.

“hey-” you start to complain, but you recognize the man you almost bumped into. “oh, seonghwa.”

“y/n,” he smiles at you. “what are you doing out so late?”

“uh, distracting myself from how small my brain is,” you explain. “what are you doing here?”

“hongjoong needed paint pens,” he says, and you’re about two seconds away from finding san and slapping him. did they really plan this too?

“why didn’t he come get them?” you ask as you remember what you’re here to find. your eyes scan the aisle behind seonghwa and you spot the paint cans at the end, but he’s in your way.

“i offered,” he says with a shrug.

“you must be a really good friend, then.”

“well you did call me perfect yesterday, so...” he trails off, smirking. you roll your eyes at him but can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. he interrupts his new favorite activity of staring deeply into your eyes (just to fluster you, of course) and he sees that you’re looking past him at the shelves of paint. “you need something down here?”

“um, yeah, the spray paint,” you reply, awkwardly trying to skirt around him to get into the aisle. he steps aside to let you through, but still follows you as you search for the color you want.

“what are you making?”

“i’m painting a scuffed up dresser i’ve had for a while, so i want something simple that’ll go with the rest of the things in my room,” you explain as you stop walking and crane your neck to scan the bottles on the top shelf. seonghwa stops behind you and places his hand on the small of your back as he reaches for a can just out of your reach.

“what about this one?” he offers, handing you a can of light blue paint. it’s really pretty, and it’ll stand out with the white furniture you already have, but you really like it.

“oh, that’s perfect!” you say as you take the can from his hands.

“there you go again,” seonghwa teases, and you shoot him a questioning look. he smiles as he responds. “calling me perfect?”

“i said the paint was perfect, weirdo,” you snap. “but thank you for finding this.”

“anytime,” he tells you. “you said your favorite color was blue right?”

“right...” you mumble, thinking back to the conversation you had at the bakery yesterday. “how’d you remember?”

“ugh, i’m hurt!” he exclaims, hand flying to his chest in mock surprise. “i can’t believe you already forgot that it’s my favorite color too.”

“hm, guess i was too distracted by how perfect you are,” you joke. seonghwa laughs at that, a sharp sound that seemed to catch him off guard. he covers his mouth to stifle the sound, but you’re close enough to the cash register now that it draws attention from san and mingi.

“find what you need?” san asks with a shit eating grin.

“hm, just about,” you say as you place the paint on the counter. “couldn’t find a hammer big enough to drop on your head, though.”

“wow, harsh,” san scoffs. “and to think i brought you here out of the goodness of my heart.”

you’re too busy half-bickering with san to notice that seonghwa has paid for your paint and the pens he promised hongjoong. he mumbles something to mingi, who then hands him a piece of paper. he scribbles his number down for you before handing you the can and his number.

“i gotta go, but i’ll see you later for study group, right?” he confirms. you’re still processing the fact that he keeps buying things for you and you can’t respond in time, so san steps in.

“yeah, y/n will be there,” san assures seonghwa. he nods and shoots you one last smile before he excuses himself and leaves. you’re stuck with san and that stupid grin again. he looks at you and then checks the paper with seonghwa’s number on it. “yep, i think you got what you needed.”

even though seonghwa very willingly gave you his number, you’re still afraid to text him. it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s into you the way you’re into him, so you’re fine with just seeing him for study dates. or, uh, not study dates. study gatherings. with just the two of you. because the other guys have bailed, again.

this time, though, you’re not working on music theory. you have an assignemnt due for your ethics class, and you need family and friends to read about your results from this morals test. you wanted san to do it, but he’s currently “chasing a sweet piece of ass,” whatever that means. he’s probably bothering his lab partner that he claims descended from greek gods. you would usually tease him for saying something like that, but it’s a thought you’ve had about seonghwa, so you kept your mouth shut.

anyway, you know you need someone to answer these questions for you, but you can’t bring yourself to ask seonghwa. he kept up his “perfect” demeanor again today, showing up at the bookstore before you so he could get you the coffee you like. you would ask why he keeps doing things like this for you, remembering your favorite color and your coffee order, but you’re afraid he’ll stop if you bring it up. little do you know, every time he learns something new about you, he writes it down in his notes app, keeping a running tab of the things you like.

“y/n?” you hear him ask. his voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been staring at him this whole time. the smirk you’ve become so familiar with makes another appearance as he gets ready to tease you. “something on your mind?”

“no, i...no,” you stutter. “i’m just thinking.”

“about what?” he questions as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips. you watch the way he slightly pouts them before taking a sip and you have to stop yourself from staring again.

“just this ethics assignment i want to finish,” you explain. “sorry, i didn’t realize i was staring at you.”

“must be an important assignment,” he nods, leaning forward to put his cup back on the table in front of you. you get another glimpse at the star tattoo on his neck as he does. “because i was definitely staring at you too, and you didn’t even notice.”

“oh?”

“yep,” he confirms. “i was giving you my best puppy dog eyes and everything.”

“puppy dog eyes?” you ask, unsure of what’s coming. “do you need something?”

“eh, not really,” he shrugs. “i’m just worried.”

“why?”

“you never texted me the other night.”

“after the art store?” you ask incredulously.

“isn’t that when i gave you my number?” he smirks.

“i didn’t think you wanted me to text you immediately...”

“well, it’s been three days and i still don’t have your number,” he pouts.

“hold on a second,” you mumble, reaching for your bag. you fumble around in there, searching for the piece of paper with seonghwa’s number on it as he watches you fondly.

“what are you doing?”

“looking for your number,” you reply like it’s obvious. seonghwa laughs a little and places his hand on your arm to stop you.

“you do know i’m right next to you, and i could just put my number in myself?” he asks, eyes sparkling as he half-smiles at you. you blush, because no, you weren’t thinking about that. you sheepishly hand him your phone and watch as he adds his number and then texts himself. he gives your phone back and replaces it with his own before asking, “what’s your favorite emoji?”

“um, the smiling cowboy?” you offer, not sure why he’s asking. he laughs again, like he did in the art store, but this time it’s harder for him to quiet the breathy giggles coming from his chest.

“why that one?” he asks, typing something quickly.

“it’s funny,” you shrug. “why?”

“needed something cute to put next to your name, but you’re a weirdo, so it’s not as cute as i was imagining,” he explains, showing you the contact card in his phone. your number is saved as “y/n 🥰🤠” and you can’t help but laugh. you look up at seonghwa, warmth in your eyes, and he starts laughing too.

“see?” you giggle. “it is funny.”

“whatever, at least now i have your number.”

after exchanging numbers with seonghwa, you’re starting to let yourself believe little by little that he might feel the same way you do. it’s not anything serious, but there’s definitely something there. the texts he sends are always flirtatious, and it has your heart beating faster every time you get a notification, hoping that it’s him. you’re in the middle of studying for your spanish final when you feel your phone vibrate on the bed next to you, and you smile when you see who it’s from.

seonghwa 🥺💫, 6:28pm: are you busy rn?

you, 6:28pm: not really, just studying

seonghwa 🥺💫: can’t be studying too much if you replied that quickly 🥸

you: what do u want

seonghwa 🥺💫: be nice :-(

you: sorry

you: hi seonghwa, how are you? what do you want.

seonghwa 🥺💫: come get dinner with me?

you: right now?

seonghwa 🥺💫: no, in 30 years. yes right now

you: but i’m studying ://

seonghwa 🥺💫: liar!

you: fine, when and where?

seonghwa 🥺💫: i’ll pick you up in ten 🤠

“you sure like staying close to campus, huh?” you ask seonghwa as he walks you about a block from your usual hangout and to a little hole in the wall restaurant that looks like it could seat maybe 20 people, uncomfortably.

“i know what i like,” he responds with a shrug. “speaking of things i like, you look nice.”

“oh, thank you,” you semi-laugh. you’d been close to panic trying to figure out what to wear (because you’re not sure if this is a date) so you went with something simple, but you’re glad seonghwa likes it. not that you wanted to impress him. but you did, a little. anyway, he looks...well, perfect, wearing black ripped jeans and a velvet-y navy shirt. you continually have to stop yourself from reaching out and stroking his arm just to feel the soft fabric (and maybe his muscles).

“so i take it you’ve never been here before?” he asks as he hands you a menu. you shake your head no in response. you can’t tell if he’s doing it intentionally, but seonghwa leans closer into your side as he explains. “you pick a main entree, but each dish comes with these sides. they say no substitutes, but i know the guy behind the counter so you can ask for more of something else if you don’t like one of them.”

“i might do that,” you say. “i don’t really want dumplings, so could i get extra sweet potatoes?”

“of course,” he nods, noting the way you smile slightly. it makes your eyes light up, and his heart does a little backflip knowing that he’s the reason for it. well, the sweet potatoes probably are, but he’s the one getting the sweet potatoes, so he’s taking that win for himself. once you both confirm what you want, he places his hand on your back and guides you to the counter.

“hey seonghwa!” the tall guy with a lopsided smile behind the register greets. “long time no see. who’s your friend?”

“hey yunho,” seonghwa smiles back. “this is y/n, a vip, so make sure you give us the good stuff.”

“extra sweet potatoes?” yunho laughs. you and seonghwa both nod as yunho continues taking your order, and you find yourself comfortably leaning into seonghwa as you wait for yunho to calculate the price. before seonghwa can even think about taking his wallet out, you’re handing yunho cash for the food, which makes seonghwa sputter.

“what? y/n, i was going to pay,” he whines, and you simply shake your head.

“nope, my turn,” you tell him. “you’ve bought me coffee too many times.”

“but i asked you out! i don’t want you to pay on our first date if i’m the one who brought you here,” he continues to complain.

“so this is a date?” you confirm, right as yunho asks suggestively “oh, this is a date?”

“yunho, give y/n’s money back,” seonghwa says, ignoring the two of you. “i’m paying.”

“yunho, if you give me that money i’ll be forced to leave and stand seonghwa up for our date,” you say, emphasizing the last word. now you’re glad you wore clean pants.

“seonghwa, why don’t you let y/n pay for this, and then you can get the next one?” yunho suggests, sending you a wink before he turns to the kitchen to share your order with the chef. you’re left with a flustered seonghwa, which is a sight you’re not used to, and it makes you laugh.

“c’mon,” you say as you pull on his arm. “let’s go find a table.”

you’re the only ones in the restaurant, so the food comes out pretty quick, and you have to stifle a laugh when you see that someone has arranged the sweet potatoes on a separate plate in the shape of a heart. seonghwa blushes at this, and you’re taken aback by how shy he’s suddenly become.

for some reason, seonghwa showing signs of nervousness puts you at ease, and you lead the conversation to something stupid san told you about the boys and their shenanigans at their dorm. the story has seonghwa laughing, and he confirms that yes, yeosang does have a sword by the tv, and yes, hongjoong did threaten to use it on him after he lost an intense match of fifa.

“in hongjoong’s defense,” seonghwa begins, “i do think yeosang cheated. wooyoung was definitely helping him.”

“it still sounds ridiculous,” you tell him. “why does anybody need a sword?”

“yeosang is just...yeosang,” seonghwa replies. “he’s weird but he won’t admit that to anyone.”

“i’m just saying, if i went to someone’s house and there was a katana by the tv, i’d haul my ass outta there.” seonghwa giggles at how serious you look, but this conversation reminds him...

“you never showed me your room,” he says bluntly. you pause for a moment, spoon halfway to your mouth, and seonghwa realizes how that must sound. “i mean, the paint, your dresser. you never showed me a picture once you fixed it up.”

“oh,” you breathe out. “let me grab my phone, i can show you.”

“show him what?” a familiar voice suddenly asks from the seat next to you. when you notice that san, and some of your other friends, have snuck their way into the restaurant, you have to keep yourself from groaning.

“why are you here.”

“i’m hungry,” san replies, then turns to seonghwa. “you didn’t tell us you were getting dinner.”

“i didn’t want to,” seonghwa deadpans. “ i wanted it to be just me and y/n.”

“too late for that, pal,” honjoong says as he slides into the seat across from you. “hi y/n.”

“hey hongjoong,” you grumble. “please tell me you’re getting your food to go.”

“we were, but then we saw our good friends eating all by themselves and thought we should join them,” hongjoong teases. by now, the rest of the boys have sat down around you, some at other tables, and one of them you don’t recognize. that must be jongho, their younger “roommate” who technically lives in first year housing but doesn’t get along with the other guy in his room. you’ve heard seonghwa complain that jongho eats all of his snacks.

“well, i hope you enjoy your food, but seonghwa and i were just about to leave,” you lie, looking at seonghwa with a stare that pleads ‘please go along with this.’

“where are you going?” wooyoung asks, one table over.

“my apartment,” you respond quickly, standing up as seonghwa follows your cue with a stupidly adorable look on his face.

“oh, perfect!” san chirps. “we’ll come with you!”

so much for your date with seonghwa. it was hard to stop the boys from insisting they all join you at your apartment, especially after yunho said his shift was over and he could really use some destressing. and by destressing he meant booze, so you currently have 8 tipsy boys scattered across your living room. if you thought they were loud before...it’s amazing that your neighbors haven’t complained yet.

it started off innocent enough, you were just playing card games at first and the loser of each round had to drink. then it turned into never have i ever, and each time you put a finger down you had to drink. then yeosang suggested shots, and it really went downhill from there. san tried convincing everyone to play a round of spin the bottle just for the chance of making you and seonghwa kiss, but mingi and wooyoung were the only ones down, so majority ruled there.

“san, stop pouting,” you laugh, noticing that he’s upset over his evil plan not working out.

“it’s fine,” he lies, duck lips on full display.

“spin the bottle is such a tween-y game too,” jongho pipes in. “and we’re adults, so it would be kinda stupid to play it anyway.”

“says the baby of the group,” yeosang scoffs.

“what about truth or dare?” hongjoong suggests. “still immature, but we can make it fun.”

“yes!” san shouts, suddenly back in a positive mood.

“i’ll start,” mingi volunteers. he takes a deep breath as he looks around the room, eyes narrowing when he looks at you and seonghwa. you’re currently smushed into your armchair together, not really by choice, because the couch is completely full and neither of you wanted to sit on the floor (you know how dirty it is, and seonghwa has a bad hip). thankfully, mingi has mercy on you and directs his gaze to his best friend. “yunho, truth or dare?”

“truth,” yunho slurs out. you’d say he’s the opposite of stressed by now.

“did you sleep with that girl you met at the party last week?”

“no,” yunho replies quickly, cheeks turning a knowing shade of red. “i just walked her home.”

“and went missing until the next morning?” yeosang asks. he gets a few snickers, and you laugh a little too because you remember san and wooyoung talking about their friend who disappeared for a few hours last weekend.

“whatever,” yunho groans. “yeosang. truth or dare.”

“dare,” yeosang chooses confidently.

“kiss wooyoung on the cheek.”

“no,” he replies, just as confidently.

“then take another shot,” yunho concedes, waving his hand at the stubborn boy. wooyoung mumbles something about how kissable he is as yeosang downs what looks like more than just a regular shot.

“this is boring,” jongho whines, which makes him the next target. he chooses dare, and you have to detach yourself from seonghwa so you can go into your kitchen and find the lemon juice in your fridge so jongho can chug what’s left. he’s sputtering after a few sips and gives up, grumbling up to you, “ i hate you for that.”

“hey, it wasn’t my dare,” you defend yourself. “you owe me lemon juice.”

“i’ll give it to you if you choose dare,” jongho challenges. you roll your eyes and take the bait, earning a round of ooo’s from the boys around you.

“make her kiss seonghwa,” someone hisses.

“or me!” wooyoung chirps. jongho looks over at him with a death glare, and wooyoung shrugs. “i just want someone to want to kiss me.”

“i think you’re cut off,” hongjoong says as he leans across your coffee table to move the bottle away from wooyoung.

“everyone be quiet!” san shouts. “jongho has to give y/n a dare.”

“hmmm,” jongho starts, tapping his finger on his chin. “what should i do?”

“for someone who said this was boring, you’re really milking this,” seonghwa says under his breath. you’re perched on the arm of the chair, close enough to hear him, but thankfully no one else does.

“what’s that other childish game called?” jongho wonders aloud. “seven minutes in heaven? i think you should do that with seonghwa.”

“do i have to?” you pout, and your reluctance makes seonghwa stiffen. he thinks you said that because you’re uncomfortable, and not because you don’t want the boys pressing their ear up to the door while the two of you make out.

“rules are rules,” hongjoong concludes, nodding his head toward your room. “go have fun. i’ll keep the kids from bothering you.”

you look to seonghwa, who isn’t looking directly at you. you tentatively take his hand, giving it a squeeze before you stand up and lead him to your room. there are so many catcalls, whistles and cheers coming from your friends that you barely hear san say “take your time! it doesn’t have to be just seven minutes!”

once you get to your room, you let seonghwa go in first and then you lock the door behind you. he quirks an eyebrow at that, and you shrug shyly.

“don’t want one of them bursting in,” you explain. seonghwa nods, and you both fall silent. it’s not necessarily awkward, just tense. you both want to do what seven minutes in heaven is meant for, but you’re not gonna make the first move and seonghwa still isn’t sure you even want to be in this situation. so he takes this time to turn around and take your room in, pointing to your dresser.

“is this it?” he asks. you hum out a yes in response, and he runs his hand over the freshly painted wood. “it looks nice. whoever picked out the color sure knows what he’s doing.”

“eh, he’s just lucky,” you joke, and you both laugh. you move to stand next to him and place your hand on top of his. “sorry we couldn’t finish our date.”

“sorry my friends are so annoying,” seonghwa adds.

“sorry san pushed me into your lap earlier,” you continue, and seonghwa smirks.

“well, i didn’t mind that,” he says. “i wanted you to sit with me, but i didn’t want to draw attention.”

“oh,” you squeak, feeling a blush on its way to your cheeks. a heavy silence falls over you, and seonghwa is the first to break it.

“listen, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s cool,” he begins. “i kinda got the vibe earlier that you didn’t want to do this, and that’s cool. if you don’t want to do this we’re still cool.”

“you don’t sound very cool about it,” you chuckle, and seonghwa’s face flushes. “but i was only nervous because i didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me.”

“oh i want to kiss you,” he says firmly. “have for a while.”

“why don’t you do it then?” you challenge. seonghwa takes a step closer to you, and before you know it he’s pinned you against your dresser. you balance your hands on it and the cool wood helps you ground yourself as your body heats up from having seonghwa so close.

“are you sure?” he asks, only a few inches from your face. you nod and whisper out “i’m sure” and seonghwa quickly cups your face and smothers you in a kiss. it starts off slow, and your face warms at his touch. once you relax into it you move your lips against his, nipping at his bottom lip slightly and earning a groan from the man before you. you take the chance to slip your tongue past his lips as you bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, slowly brushing through his soft hair. his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly but not too hard, and he leans in to get as close to you as possible. you keep kissing for a few moments, but eventually you need to breathe so you lightly tap on his neck. he pulls back, breathing heavy, and his smile shines like the most beautiful stars in the sky. “so?”

“so?” you repeat, equally out of breath.

“that was nice.”

“it was.”

“the boys are gonna know we made out.”

“of course they are,” you laugh. “your lips look swollen.”

“so do yours,” he counters.

“but wasn’t that the whole point of us coming in here?” you ask. your hands have fallen to his chest, and you finally get a chance to smooth out the soft velvet of his shirt. and you notice his chest is very, uh, firm, too.

“we didn’t have to kiss,” he says with a shrug. “we could’ve just talked.”

“about what?” you ask with a smile.

“my keen eye for interior design,” he replies. “how sexy you look in low lighting.”

“so you think i’m sexy?” you tease, and seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“i just had my tongue in your mouth, does that answer your question?”

another silence comes over you both, but this one is lighter than before. you’re subconsciously rubbing your hands over his shirt, and seonghwa brings a hand up to cover yours, stopping it right over his heart.

“we don’t have to tell them,” you offer. “i mean, they kept it a secret from us that they were trying to get us together this whole time.”

“oh no, i was fully aware of that,” seonghwa tells you, and you scoff. “do you think i really wanted to get out past midnight just to buy hongjoong some expensive markers? he never even paid me for them.”

“well now i really don’t want to tell them we kissed,” you whine. “how could everyone be in on this except me?”

“it was more fun that way,” seonghwa teases before pecking your lips. “but we can keep this between us, for now.”

“i think we should,” you say with a nod of finality. “it’s more fun that way.”

“c’mon, let’s go back out there before they send a search party.”

you return to the living room before seonghwa (so he can sneak into the bathroom and fix his hair) and you find most of the boys asleep on the floor. you sigh as your eyes meet hongjoong’s, and he shrugs.

“at least they didn’t bother you,” he says.

“can you help me find pillows and blankets for them, please?” you ask, and he nods before jumping into action. he throws one of the couch pillows down to yeosang, who takes it and hugs it to his chest. you have a couple extras in your hall closet and you pass them to yunho, who’s sitting up when you come back. he places one under mingi and another under jongho and keeps the last one for himself. san and wooyoung are on the couch, and hongjoong tells you he’s fine with the armchair. seonghwa is out of the bathroom by now, and, like the perfect man he is, he’s carrying blankets in his arms. the three of you work on getting all the boys covered before you realize that seonghwa doesn’t have a place to sleep.

“i can take another spot on the floor,” he assures you. “do you have another pillow i can use?”

“let him sleep in your room, y/n,” san mumbles from underneath wooyoung. you pause and look at seonghwa, who’s looking back at you with something you can’t read in his eyes.

“it’s not a bad idea,” hongjoong pipes in from somewhere within the blanket cocoon he made for himself. “he was just there. you can put him on the floor.”

“y/n?” seonghwa asks, pulling your attention back to him. “i don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.”

you would try to fight it, so you could hopefully ignore taunts from the boys in the morning, but you’re suddenly really tired and you just want to lay down.

“i’m ok with it if you are,” you yawn. “take the rest of those blankets, we can use those for your bed.”

“make good choices,” honjoong mumbles as seonghwa leads you back to your room, and you hear san going “oooooo” as you close your door a second time tonight. this time you don’t lock it though, and when you turn around you see the blankets on the floor and seonghwa sprawled out on your usual side of the bed, so you tell him.

“well why don’t you come join me then?” he teases with a grin. you blush and shake your head.

“scoot over.”

he does, but only by an inch. he still looks at you with that flirty glint in his eyes, and you can only shake your head again as you crawl into the tiny space next to him. he immediately wraps an arm around your waist and gives you a tight hug, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“thank you,” he whispers into your back.

“for what?” you reply.

“for not putting me on the floor. and for liking me.”

you just woke up from maybe the best night of sleep you’ve ever had. seonghwa’s arms and legs are draped over yours, so you can’t get up without waking him, but having him so close is a welcome source of warmth. your apartment is quiet, and the sun is peacefully filtering into your room through your curtain. it’s the perfect moment, with your perfect boy, until-

“i think they’re still asleep,” you hear someone whisper from the hallway.

“wooyoung, leave them alone!” another voice hisses. there’s silence for a moment, and then a smack, followed by someone jiggling the doorknob to your room. you quickly untangle yourself from seonghwa before you watch as the door cracks open a bit, revealing wooyoung in all his bed-headed glory. you close your eyes as much as you can while still peeking at who’s sneaking into your room, and you see jongho close behind him. he must’ve been the one who got smacked. or did the smacking. either way, they’re both staring at you and seonghwa in your bed, but you notice wooyoung smile and pause.

“i knew it! they definitely got together last night.”

“how do you know?” jongho asks. “maybe y/n let seonghwa sleep on the bed because of his old man hips.”

“whatever. they’re in the same bed, so that’s at least something,” wooyoung replies. “lame, but still something.”

“what did you expect?” jongho asks incredulously. “you thought we would catch them doing it?”

“i mean, not exactly, but couldn’t i get a little cuddling maybe?”

“you want me to cuddle you hyung?” jongho deadpans.

“yes, actually-”

“hey!” a third voice whisper shouts. you hear footsteps and then you see hongjoong pulling wooyoung out of your room by the neck of his shirt. “leave them alone. and you, jongho, i’m surprised you’re playing along with this.”

“well...” jongho mumbles.

“well what?” hongjoong asks, sounding like the mom-est mom to ever mom.

“they’re the only ones that know how to make breakfast.”

“both of you, out! now!” hongjoong semi-shouts, and you feel seonghwa stirring behind you. hongjoong doesn’t realize you’re both awake and closes the door as he leaves.

“what time is it?” seonghwa grumbles out, and your heart skips a beat hearing how deep his voice is when he wakes up.

“early,” you reply, turning around to be face to face with him. his arms slowly snake around you as you look up at him and share a sleepy smile. “how can you look this good when you first wake up?”

“weird, i wanted to ask you the same thing,” seonghwa replies, leaning in to kiss you but you touch your fingers to his lips and stop him, so he pouts.

“uh uh, not until i brush my teeth,” you say as you try to get up, but seonghwa’s grip on your waist keeps you down.

“please,” he pouts again, sparkly eyes on full display as he pleads with you. it takes about half a second for you to cave and kiss him quickly, catching him off guard. he shifts to pull you on top of him and deepen the kiss, but he loses his grip on you and you’re able to slip out of bed before he can stop you. a noise comes from deep in his chest that almost sounds like a growl, and you shoot him a glare.

“hey, you got your kiss,” you warn. “now i’m going to make breakfast for the gremlins. do you want to help me?”

after the intrusion into your bedroom, wooyoung obviously told the boys what he saw. but, like jongho said, most of them thought it was just because of seonghwa’s hips that made you share a bed with him. there wasn’t enough evidence otherwise, and none of them really expected either of you to make a move despite their efforts. but they’re starting to get suspicious.

little do they know, after the set up fell into place, seonghwa wanted to take you on a real date. the only way to do that without your friends knowing was to sneak around without them, which was kind of fun. it was nice having this bubble with seonghwa, just the two of you, but it was getting harder to avoid your friends. seonghwa lived with them after all, so they pestered him about how often he was out and who he might be out with.

“san keeps asking if you’re a good kisser. i told him i didn’t know, and then he asked if he could find out for me. should i be concerned about that?”

“we need to be more careful, yeosang said he saw us at the taco place yesterday, and he said we hold hands weird.”

“hongjoong has been saving seats for us at the bookstore, and each time we don’t show up i think he steals something from me.”

you have been ditching study group lately, but that’s more because you need to do some deep studying for your other finals and your friends are too much of a distraction. seonghwa can be distracting too, but at least he can take a hint and back down when you really need to focus. it’s been nice actually, just spending time in his presence. you were so nervous around him just a few weeks ago, and now you feel like you could trust him with just about anything.

today, you don’t get any personal study time, though. your music theory final is coming up and seonghwa wants you to get all the terms memorized before the review session in class tomorrow. he’s motivating you with a kiss for each right answer and the promise of him making dinner once you’re done. you’re currently cruising on five wrong in a row, and you’re getting frustrated.

“c’mon y/n, you know this,” seonghwa encourages you, but you just whine in response. “we did this like four minutes ago, and i told you the answer so you could remember it.”

“yeah, well i obviously didn’t,” you snap, and seonghwa fakes being hurt. “sorry. can we skip this and come back to it?”

“sure,” he agrees quickly. “but first you need to write down the circle of fifths for me.”

“i hate you.”

“hm, wrong answer,” he hums. “but kiss anyway. maybe that’ll keep you from getting so grumpy.”

“i am not grumpy,” you defend after kissing him gently. “i’m stressed.”

“you know what you need?”

“hm?”

“you need to go on another date,” he begins. “with me, obviously.”

“damn, i wanted to know if yunho was free,” you tease, and seonghwa doesn’t think it’s funny. “now who’s grumpy?”

“ignoring that,” he scoffs, but you can tell he’s trying not to smile.

“when would we go? i’m really busy the next few days.”

“what about after class? we could both clean up and do something nice before we get some dinner?” seonghwa suggests. “why don’t we go to that art exhibit you told me about?”

“ugh,” you groan as you learn your head on his shoulder. “that sounds amazing, but we both said we’d be at study group tomorrow, remember? hongjoong practically begged me to be there, and i said i would ask you to come.”

“what about not letting them know we’re a thing?” he pouts. you don’t tell him about the youngest two that saw you all cuddled up, but instead you assure him that you inviting him to study group wouldn’t look unusual to the boys.

“plus, if we both cancel last minute, they’d know for sure we were up to something together,” you continue. “so yes, we need to go on another date, but just not tomorrow.”

“fine,” he mumbles. “now i am grumpy.”

“would something from the cafe make it better, my little boba ball?” you ask in a baby voice.

“ooh, actually, boba sounds good,” seonghwa smiles. “let’s go.”

the next day you get to the bookstore late because your professor gave a pop quiz at the end of class and you’ve been so busy studying music theory you forgot to study for anything else, so you needed all the time you could get. when you finally arrive, all of the boys are there, surprisingly. since you’ve never seen yunho, mingi and jongho here before you’re a little confused, but happy to see them nonetheless.

as you walk up to the usual spot, you notice a coffee cup sitting in front of an empty chair, and you point to it as the boys greet you.

“is this for me?” you ask, placing your bag on the ground before grabbing the warm mug. “thank you, coffee angel.”

“you’re welcome, actual angel,” seonghwa replies, and you almost choke on your first sip. what is he doing?? you’re supposed to be sneaky sneaks and keep your relationship quiet, but here he is flirting with you in front of everyone!

except, that’s what he did before you started dating too, so it’s not out of the ordinary. in fact, no one pays any mind to it, so you’re left with a burnt tongue and blushy cheeks while seonghwa looks at you with a stare that only you would understand. you quickly shoot him a wink before you put your mug down and reach for your notes.

“um, hello? what are you guys doing?” you ask yeosang next to you, who’s rabidly tapping at his phone, just like everyone else. if they weren’t distracted they might have picked up on the vibes between you and seonghwa, but thankfully they’re the oblivious ones now.

“playing a game,” half of them respond, just as hongjoong says “writing lyrics” and jongho mumbles “texting my mom.”

“aren’t we supposed to study?” you ask. “or did you already learn everything in the world while i was gone?”

“well you’ve missed a lot of study sessions, y/n,” san begins. “so yes, we have learned everything. now we just come here to hang out.”

“so then why did you insist on me being here, joong?” you ask newly orange-haired hongjoong. it’s been a while since you’ve seen him, he must’ve dyed it recently.

“we missed hanging out with you,” he says simply, eyes peeking up from his phone. your heart constricts at this, and you catch seonghwa’s eyes again. you might have to rethink the whole sneaking around thing if they really do miss you.

“yeah, we missed you AND we had to make sure you and seonghwa are still spending time together,” wooyoung adds, wiggling his eyebrows.

“where have you been anyway?” yeosang asks. “you don’t have other friends.”

“yes i do,” you scoff.”

“give me names and numbers.”

“ignore him,” yunho tells you, and you nod.

“i always do. but i’ve been really stressed about finals, so i had to do some soul searching on my own to decide if i need to graduate or not.”

“seems fair,” mingi agrees. “i almost had to drop a class.”

“because he forgot he was even enrolled in it,” jongho clarifies, and you laugh.

“but seonghwa has been missing a lot lately too,” san starts. “i wonder what he’s been doing.”

“or who,” wooyoung snickers, and hongjoong reaches over mingi to slap him.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” seonghwa says with a shrug. “i’ve mostly been in my room, or at the pharmacy to get medicine.”

“oh, so you could’ve bought new paper towels for the dorm then, huh?” hongjoong asks, and as the two of them start to bicker, yeosang nudges your arm.

“i saw you two,” he says quietly. “at the mexican restaurant.”

“i know,” you whisper back.

“so i know you’re dating.”

“are you gonna say anything?”

“hmmm, no,” he thinks. “but you have to buy my silence.”

“with coffee?” you offer, and yeosang smiles. he stands up and puts his phone away before speaking, looking directly at seonghwa.

“my best friend y/n is gonna buy me coffee, we’ll be back,” he says as he loops his arm around your shoulders. seonghwa watches as you walk away (and stares at your ass) but he’s mostly thinking about how he’s a little jealous right now. like, he knows you wouldn’t do anything, he trusts you, but he doesn’t want his friends thinking you have a thing for anyone but him. so while you’re gone, he talks.

“i haven’t been sick,” he admits. “i’ve been seeing y/n.”

“we all knew, dude,” hongjoong says casually, and everyone agrees.

“then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“because YOU weren’t saying anything,” jongho replies.

“yeah, we figured that we did enough trying to get the two of you together, so if you didn’t end up dating then that was your fault. we were just waiting on you to make a move,” san explains.

“then why did you let us lie to you like that?”

“it was fun,” wooyoung shrugs. “by the way, did y/n let you sleep in the bed because of your hips, or because you wanted to cuddle?”

the red tint on seonghwa’s cheeks gives him away, and the boys start laughing and ooo’ing so loud he’s afraid you’ll hear it over by the coffee counter.

“ok, ok, just. keep this quiet for now,” he says. “y/n may still want this to be private.”

“but you just told us about it,” yunho says. “why would you do that if you knew y/n wouldn’t want you to?”

“well,” seonghwa begins. “i need your help with a date.”

seemingly by an act of god, you have time this weekend to go on a date with seonghwa. little did you know, he’s the reason your plans suddenly freed up. san said you could critique him and wooyoung for their dance final another day, hongjoong said he would send you his music theory notes from the review and save you hours of studying and then yeosang found the exact spanish book you needed to finish your performance final ahead of time. it was the perfect circumstances, orchestrated by your perfect boy and his perfect-adjacent friends, who all agreed to help him with this (hopefully) perfect date.

it starts with seonghwa picking you up from your apartment, coffee in hand.

“you’re the man of my dreams, you know that?” you say in passing as you grab the warm to-go cup. even if you were only saying it lightly, it made seonghwa’s heart soar. you notice he hasn’t said anything to you, so you meet his eyes to find them full of stars like always, but this time there’s something scheme-y in there. he’s up to something.

“are you ready for the best date of your life?” he asks with a smile that puts the stars in his eyes to shame.

“yes, i think,” you respond, grabbing your keys and locking your door. “but i don’t know what we’re doing.”

“and it will stay that way until we get there,” seonghwa says firmly as he laces his hand into yours. you squeeze his hand and sigh.

“i guess i just have to trust you then.”

“but that won’t be hard right?”

“wait, didn’t you say something earlier about going to that art exhibit? is that it?” you question, even though you know he won’t budge. seonghwa just shakes his head no and punches the button for the elevator. a moment of silence passes before you guess again. “a movie? you rented out a movie theater, like you said you wanted to?”

“i tried, but it was expensive,” he admits and you have to laugh. “funds are tight right now.”

“i watched you buy a couple hundred dollars worth of legos the other day babe. maybe that’s why the date fund is lacking.”

“you’re not coming between me and my collectables, y/n,” seonghwa scolds. the elevator pings to open to the parking garage under your building, and you’re confused for a moment before he explains. “i want this to be a nice date, so yunho let me borrow his car. it would be no fun if we show up all sweaty because we were walking.”

yunho’s car, which is actually pretty nice thanks to all the tips he gets from flirting with clientele, is parked by the elevator. seonghwa leads you to your door and opens it for you, revealing a basket of flowers and candies in the seat. you coo as you pick it up, and seonghwa looks on proudly. you lean over to give him a kiss, and you whisper your thanks as you pull away.

“that was mingi’s idea,” seonghwa tells you, smiling brightly “i got all your favorites.”

“i see that.”

“but look around the flowers,” he guides you. “there’s something else.”

you hold the basket up to eye level, noticing the silver sparkle around the stems of the flowers. is it glitter? you tug at a flower and realize it’s a chain, and attached is a hand drawn star charm to match the tattoo on the back of seonghwa’s neck.

“seonghwa, this is beautiful,” you say breathlessly. “we’re gonna match! that’s so cute. who’s idea was this?”

“would you believe me if i said it was mine?”

“no.”

“that’s what jongho said too,” seonghwa laughs. “it was his idea.”

“tell him thank you,” you say as you play with the charm. “mingi and yunho too. it’s a good date so far.”

“oh baby, it hasn’t officially started yet.”

in the car, seonghwa plays a mix of songs that he really likes, and he’s mixed in some of your favorites too. he has to keep convincing you that the songs aren’t clues, because you ask every time a new song plays.

“so are the songs just distractions?” you ask, finally giving up on getting any information out of him.

“why do you ask that?” he smirks as he turns down a familiar road.

“because i can tell you just took the long way to the record store,” you explain. “are you stalling?”

“me, what? why?” his response does nothing to manage your suspicions, and suddenly you remember how your friends have helped with the date so far. are they all in on this? you need answers.

“seonghwa, i swear to god, if san or wooyoung jumps out to surprise me wherever we’re going-”

“that won’t happen,” seonghwa laughs while he parks the car. “we’re here anyway, and i promise this is the last surprise of the night.”

“the record store?” you question, looking up at the shop you’ve been to countless times to shop and to bother hongjoong while he works.

“yeah, you said there was a new album out you wanted to get, right?”

“yeah,” you blush. “but i just said that in passing, i didn’t expect you to remember.”

“y/n, i want to know everything about you,” seonghwa says seriously. “so of course i remembered. wait, don’t get out yet. i’ll open the door for you.”

as seonghwa helps you out of the car, you quiz him on the other things you’ve said around him that you didn’t think he remembered. sadly, he does remember you saying your favorite disney movie is ratatouille and you’ve always wanted to try the mushroom/cheese concoction remy makes in the first scene.

“that’s a little embarrassing,” you sigh as you reach for the door. you’re going to complain some more about how seonghwa doesn’t need to remember everything about you, but the sight in front of you makes you stop mid-breath.

the record store has been decorated from floor to ceiling in fairy lights, and there’s more flowers all over the place. as you look around, you notice the flowers are tucked in the shelves next to your favorite artists. next to the door is the album you were talking about, and a little further down you see your favorite album of all time with a few extra flowers next to it. you’re still taking everything in when you notice hongjoong behind the counter.

“did you help him with this?” you ask breathlessly, and hongjoong nods.

“yeah, but the flowers next to the albums was my idea,” hongjoong explains. “we’re running a new special called “y’n’s favorites” so everything that’s marked with a flower is yours, if you want it. everything is on the house.”

“i...i don’t know what to say,” you start. you turn to seonghwa and there are those starry eyes that you love to see. you reach out to cup his face and smile. “thank you. this is...perfect.”

“it’s even more perfect now that i’m here!” wooyoung shouts from the front door of the shop, followed by san and yeosang. you look at seonghwa and all he does is laugh.

“what? at least he didn’t jump out and scare you,” seonghwa teases.

“oh, i would never,” wooyoung nods with a half-serious look on his face. “but i definitely wouldn’t do that when i have your dinner in my hands, i can’t let all this hard work spill.”

“especially not on my clean floor,” hongjoong warns.

“you made dinner for us?” you ask wooyoung, but you’re looking at seonghwa, who simply shrugs.

“yep, i made one of your favorites and then threw in a couple recipes i thought you’d both like,” wooyoung says as he and the two other boys place food down on the counter by the register.

“and what did you two help with?” you ask san and yeosang.

“who do you think made this place so beautiful?” yeosang asks incredulously.

“yeosang did the lights and i bought all the flowers,” san explains with a smile that makes his eyes turn into happy half moons. “you’d be surprised how many places i had to go to get all your favorites.”

“i really don’t know what to say,” you whisper in disbelief. “i can’t believe you all did this for me.”

“it was all seonghwa’s idea,” san tells you. “we did it for both of you.”

“yeah, we’re just his little minions,” yeosang jokes, and wooyoung giggles.

“you tell me how that food tastes, got it?” he asks as he backs out of the store. “don’t say anything mean though. i only accept compliments.”

“wooyoung,” seonghwa smiles tightly. “please leave.”

wooyoung holds the door open for san and yeosang as he gives seonghwa a thumbs up. san waves goodbye sweetly and yeosang gives you a knowing smile before the door closes behind them.

“well, i think that’s my cue to go,” hongjoong says, handing the keys to seonghwa. “don’t make a mess. if i get fired, i’m selling all the stuff i stole from you when you were sneaking around with y/n and not telling us about it.”

“i’ll keep him under control,” you assure hongjoong, who nods as heads to the door. you don’t see him leave because seonghwa has stepped in front of you, and he places his hands on your waist to pull you closer.

“so,” he begins.

“so.”

“what do you want to listen to while we eat?” he asks, pulling you by the waist over to a row of records. you stand there quietly, looking over the albums hongjoong pulled to the front for you, and you just can’t believe how much work went into this date. you can’t believe how sweet it is that each of your friends helped, and you put your hand on seonghwa’s and give it a squeeze.

“hwa,” you whisper. he hums in response, but you place your hand on his cheek and guide his gaze to yours.

“thank you,” you tell him. “thank you for this.”

he smiles at you with a look in his eyes that can’t be anything else but love, and you smile back with that much love, if not more, in your own face. you use the hand on seonghwa’s chin to guide his lips to yours, and you lose yourself in the kiss, in seonghwa, for who knows how long.

“mm, y/n,” he mumbles against your lips before detaching. “the food will get cold.”

“you’re right,” you sigh. “but we didn’t pick any music.”

“how about this?” he asks, pulling an album out from the top shelf. you smile at the cover, knowing exactly what song seonghwa wants you to hear.

“perfect,” you agree. “i’ll put it on while you get the food?”

and that’s how you end up eating the perfect meal, on your perfect date, with all of your favorite things around you, sitting right next to your perfect boy.

#seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa imagine #seonghwa one shot #ateez one shot #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #seonghwa imagines #ateez fluff #park seonghwa #park seonghwa fluff #park seonghwa imagine #park seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa one shot

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 4 years

Text

Fury of Their Scales

m.yoongi / reader

genre: dragon!au, wyvern!yoongi, human/herbalist!reader,

warning(s)!!: isolation/alienation, mentions of war, injuries/blood/violence, dragon boy yoongles is stuck in a trap bc he’s dumb, y/n is so sO pure, protective dragon yoonyoon, villagers physically bully y/n a lot :(, unfair situations, y/n takes so much shit like a champ she deserves an award, dragon boy is a dragon for the first half of this (sorry, not sorry), don’t be scared there's actual humor and wholesome stuff too :D, slow burn (kinda)?

w.count: 17.7k

Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble | [Rated: T]

synopsis: a world of dragons, demons, devils, gods and ghouls- humans were of small number. you’ve lived on the outskirts of your human village in the woods ever since you could remember. living alone in a small cabin with nothing but woodland trees, ponds, lakes and animals was like a small paradise- with the occasional bump in the road. as someone who’s studied and experimented with nature to make all sorts of concoctions- your home was ideal. it didn’t matter that your village didn’t like it or that they rejected your life of medicine. what did matter, however, was the dragon stuck in a trap not too far from your home that you just discovered.

a/n: i literally haven’t sat down to write fanfiction in over a month bc my brain was fried and i got sucked balls deep into a fandom of an anime i dont even watch (yet). It took me three hours to edit this bc i pass tf out, pls be easy on me LOL

A shrill whine echoed through the woodland area. Bouncing off trees, echoing in caves, spooking off wildlife of rodents and critters that crept along the ground with far too many spindly legs. Rustling in the wind, entangling with the leaves that blew and then erupting when a campfire crackled, settling in it’s burning pit of wood and stone.

-x-x-x-

You shot awake in bed, the morning light peeking in through your bedroom window that was covered in a beginning to tear curtain. You breathed out a heavy sigh as you flopped back down onto your mattress that squeaked at your movement. You really should be getting a new bed sometime soon. This one was old and did nothing for your pressure points or back while you slept. What was the point of a good night rest when you wake up feeling like you just wrestled a bear and lost?

You looked at the small streaks of light that soaked into your wooden home as you closed your eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again before getting out of bed. You threw your covers off, your nightdress coming down to your knees as you started to stretch. Your arms reached above your head as you stifled a yawn.

You could hear the birds outside and from the way the sun angled into the room through the drapes, you assumed it was still fairly early. You hated that you could never seem to sleep until later into the morning, but you couldn’t help the fact that when you're up, you're up for the day unless you’re ill.

Walking to your window, you drew open the curtains and immediately shut your eyes. Peeling them open slowly in a squint, the morning light was brilliant until you finally adjusted to the sudden light difference. Letting the morning sun warm your room with sunspots, you started to change.

Tossing away your nightdress, you changed into your everyday- not at all flattering- attire.

A dress of a faded moss green skirt and a stretched, overly used leather corset around your waist that tucked around the white top half of your dress. Tying your hair back you slipped on some socks.

Leaving your room, you immediately dashed to your fire place where a kettle of day old water hung from the single hook inside the top of the pit. Striking a match, you ignited the wood that had not yet been completely burnt and noted to refill the kettle with fresh water later on- too lazy to do it right off the bat.

You walked around your small, cabin home jumping place to place with small tasks or chores that took a mere few seconds to complete to start your day off waiting for your kettle to whistle with hot water. When it finally did, you carefully took your kettle with a cloth wrapped around your hand and set it on your countertop. Grabbing a clay mug from your cupboard (that you made on your own to your pride), you dropped in a few leaves from a box of herbs you had and poured the steaming hot water over them.

“Alright,” you assured yourself as you left your kettle to cool off again. After a handful of minutes, you took your mug and sat yourself at your small table that was made for two- but only occupied by yourself. You lifted open your window and let out a breathy sigh at the fresh air. You placed a small plate of grain and food on the open window seal and soon enough, birds were flocking to it to grab something.

“Good morning you guys,” you chuckled as you basked in the small moment of peace before the day ahead. You weren’t sure how long you were sitting there in your spot of sunlight and birds with the occasional squirrel, but after the sun had shifted just enough to get you to notice, you deemed it long enough.

Getting up, you set your mug into your sink and took the plate that was previously filled on the widow as you walked to your door. Grabbing a white cloak to tie around your shoulders, a small gathering basket and placing a pair of worn down, brown boots on, you were leaving your home. Grabbing the key that hung on a nail beside the door, you locked your cabin door behind you and placed the key around your neck.

Taking a list from beneath the small cloth in your basket, you started reading aloud to none other than yourself. You kept yourself company, that’s the only way you stayed somewhat entertained in your lonesome cabin.

You lived on the outskirts of your village, having been born in this cabin and growing up in it even when your parents left you there as a child. You found out quickly how to grow and live independently and by now it was just second nature. Sure, you had your rough days of work and weather, but it was manageable. At least you didn’t have neighbors that stressed you out- only the occasional bird, bat or squirrel that got stuck in your chimney that you had to chase out.

“I need to find some goldenrod for sure,” you muttered. “I’ll need to make sure not to grab yarrow in its place; although, I guess it wouldn’t be all that bad if I did.” Your knowledge and interest in medicine was also another reason why you never branched further into the village as a person. All they did was ridicule you for not following the status quo. “I need honey too, but I’d have to go to the village for that unless some merchant runs into me while I’m out.” You sighed, “I doubt it. I’m never that lucky.”

You started your way off, passing by the small well in your front yard and bypassing the small station of firewood you had yet to cut and move. A pile of logs sat sliced into thirds under a tarp beside your front door. The hardest part of your life was building the muscle and stamina to cut your own firewood, not to mention swinging and actually hitting the wood with your axe instead of magnificently missing it and getting the blade stuck in the stump you used to chop on.

As you walked away from your cabin, the trees becoming thicker as you followed the dirt trail further into the woods, you started looking around. Scanning for any signs of any herb that you may want to snag along the search for the days main goal: goldenrod. You started off the path and began walking between trees and away from small holes from rabbits and moles so you don’t jeopardize your ankles and fall.

You were searching for a while as you were knelt into the grass, scanning leaves and flower petals to identify what was what when you thought you heard something. From somewhere beyond the trees, past the wall of foliage, you though you heard a sort of... whining? Or maybe howl?

A sense of deja-vu washed over you. Had you heard this whining somewhere before? Was it a wolf cub or maybe a bear? No, it sounded too rough to be either of those. A cry echoed after a moment of silence and then the whines from before returned shortly after.

A part of you wanted to forget about it and leave the area immediately. Something about the way it seemed to bend and mold the air around you with it’s unfamiliar cry made your skin crawl. However, the bigger part of your heart that knew that the cries you were hearing were cries for help made you think otherwise.

Rising to your feet, you tucked your basket to your side closer in a pitiful sense of self-comfort as you made your way towards the cries. The trees became less dense and soon you were approaching a small opening. You could hear the sounds of metal clanking together along with the loud cries and whines. Perhaps an animal had gotten snagged in a trap? If that were the case, you wondered if you should free it or not.

Although you felt bad for the animals in the moment, you knew that they were someone else's food source or something important to help somehow; whether it be a pelt for warmth or their claws for weaponry. You had no right to free an animal that wasn’t your prey- so you decided that if it was an animal you’d leave no matter how much your heart ached.

When you could see the clearing ahead, you slowed your footsteps and slowly crept up behind a tree to peer around it. As you did so, your breath caught in your throat as you gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from choking and making a sound. You spun around, nearly dropping your basket from your arm as you hid behind the tree you had peered around and pressed your back firmly to it’s trunk.

Your breath shuttered, shook, halted and repeated. You couldn’t remember how to breathe properly as you tried to be as quiet as possible. Around that tree trunk and indeed caught in a metal trap was no animal.

It was a dragon.

You racked your brain trying to be reasonable. Perhaps it was just a trick of the mind? A hallucination? Maybe the leaves you boiled earlier that morning were hallucinogenic and you were simply too careless about what you were brewing in your morning daze?

You peered one more time around the tree trunk to verify and your entire body ceased up again at the same dragon from the first time you saw it. You didn’t hide immediately this time. You stayed hidden, tucked away but examined the situation the best you could; even if every orifice of your body was telling you to run.

You weren’t too well versed on the dragon race, but this particular dragon you had read about before in a book once- but only briefly. A wyvern you think it was called.

The creature was large, as tall as the trees- one not quiet fully grown yet you imagined. Or maybe it was because the creature was folded in on itself, crouched to the ground as it tugged on it’s trapped legs- so it appeared smaller en masse.

A large bear trap had sunk it’s sharp metal teeth into the scaled leg of the mighty creature. With nowhere near enough space to try and fly away- trap attached or not- and no room to try and back away, shake it off or even break the chain that held the trap in place, the dragon was ultimately stuck in whining pain.

It’s scales were that of ashen red; the color of a fine blush, but rough to the texture like brick. It’s arms were large and folded inwards, the talons of one digging into the earth to steady itself and the other crawling at the trap futility. It’s long tail was curled around it’s back and the length of it disappeared behind the tree line where you suspected it was barbed at the end. It’s head was long, thin and had three horns- one on the end of its nose and two on either side of it’s head.

Needless to say, it was a wonder to witness. A dangerous wonder, but a wonder no less.

Dragons were a very rare sight around human territory. They hated the human race and for reasons that you couldn’t blame them for. Years ago, you had read about a war- if you could call it that- that took place between human and dragon.

The humans in their invincible high from all sorts of discoveries and conquering of other places had decided to set their sights on the dragons. If they could tame the mighty beasts of the skies and elements and use them as war creatures- the people would reign over all. That’s what they had assumed.

They had no idea just what they had signed themselves up for when they marched into Dragon Country. The doom that took place was instantaneous for the first brave and foolish group of marchers and it only got worse.

A group of nearly 400 men were slaughtered at the hands of just a few dragons who were the first to be approached as mere animals. Burned alive, crushed, eaten, slashed into ribbons- the humans stood no chance in hell.

Then, the dragon’s returned the favor. If the humans wanted war, so be it. The dragon race was smart, far smarter than the average genius human being. With magic on their side along with their mighty strength and numbers, they took to the Humanlands and burned it to the ground.

This pathetic war lasted no longer than a week and nearly one-third of the human population was blown away from the very beasts they had wanted to tame and use.

The two had long since left each other alone, no one wanting to repeat the past. Humans fear dragons due to the stories- that was unavoidable. However, dragons live long and hate even longer. They can hold a grudge longer than that of a devil or demon.

That is what shook you to your core as you gazed at this one single dragon caught in the woods of the Humanslands. Why was it so far from Dragon Country? Had it wandered here because of boredom? Perhaps it was banished by the king of dragons you had known about. Or maybe this dragon was just foolish. You weren’t sure and you less sure if you’d stick around long to find out.

The creature was a terror and the snarls and whines and cries that came from it were something that would surely haunt you in the middle of the night when you hear the wind howl. Regardless of that however, you felt pity for this dragon.

As of the moment, it had hurt no one and you had heard no word of any dragon attacks. It was just stuck, injured and helpless. Before you could muster up the conscience to quietly leave, you stepped forwards just an inch and knocked a small rock from its place on a tree root.

The dragon’s head whipped up, it’s sensitive nose finally catching a whiff of a different scent that wasn’t of Woodland descent now that it wasn’t as preoccupied with the stupid bear trap.

It’s black coal eyes narrowed as it’s mouth opened to show its rows of white fangs that could easily devour you. A violent shiver ran through your entire body as your eyes connected with its own. You were discovered and there was no going back down.

Swallowing the lump in your throat felt like a massive stone was lodged inside. You took a few more shaky steps forward, showing your entire body to the beast. It’s winged arms lifted in defensive as it’s head lowered; it’s chin becoming level with the ground and still growling. You could see plumes of steam coming from its mouth due to it’s hot breath.

It was clear this particular creature wanted nothing to do with you- a human- and you couldn’t blame it. You didn’t want to be here either. This situation could end with you getting killed, but your morality and ability to sympathize with the weak or injured was larger than the risk of your safety.

Lifting your arms to show you had nothing on you, you started to enter the small clearing.

“Easy,” you hushed softly as the dragon snapped it’s jaw just one time in warning. You gulped again, daring to take another stupid and foolish step. “I want to help,” you said. Earning another growl in response didn’t shock you.

It took several minutes, a handful of snaps to stay away, constant growls and steam filled breaths for you to even get within arms reach of the trap. You were sure that if you made one wrong move the creature would bite you in half- but you had to take a chance.

You think the dragon knew this too. You were the closest thing to an escape it would probably find that wasn’t going to go and tell other humans to capture or kill it. It would cooperate until it was free, you were sure of that- but after? You could only imagine.

It’s winged arms were around you, shading you from the sunlight that the tree’s didn’t cover as your fingers brushed the cool metal of the trap. As you eyed it you wondered why someone would make such a large trap in the first place. It seemed far too large and frankly a bit overkill for a just a bear trap.

You look over your shoulder to see the head of the dragon that was the size of your body staring down at you just above your head. You swallowed for the nth time that morning in nervousness.

“I’m going to try and release it,” you say. “It’s going to hurt.”

You carefully pulled the sleeves of your dress up as you curled your fingers around the thick metal teeth. The scales of the dragon were broken and destroyed as the trap dug into it’s reptilian-like skin.

Blood had already begun to stain the metal. The trap’s teeth were warm- warmer than the rest of the trap due to the dragon's blood being so much hotter than an average animal or human. It’s hot, like steamed bathwater, and it steamed the metal to warm your hands almost uncomfortably.

You took a breath before you started to pull your arms away, fingers aching from pulling on the teeth to try and open the trap. You had been thankful in the moment that you did indeed chop your own firewood because it built up some bit of muscle in the grand scheme of things. The trap began to give and slowly creaked open bit by bit. The dragon’s coal black eyes widened a fraction as it started to wriggle it’s leg.

“Stop moving,” you hissed instinctively. If it thrashed too much, you could loose your grip and then it would just clamp down on it’s leg again. With a whining and grunting mixture of sounds, you soon pried it open enough to where you were almost certain the creature could free itself. “Okay,” you huffed in endurance as you held it open, “move!”

The dragon was quick to rip it’s leg out of the trap and send it, and you, off the ground. The rapid motion tore you away from the trap, the metal scratching your fingers as you fell to your ass and then onto your back in the dirt as the trap snapped shut again away from you. It fell to the Woodland floors empty and bloody as you hissed on your back.

You pain and breathlessness were soon replaced by fear and anxiety when you felt the dragon you had just freed hover over you. It’s taloned, long, winged arms were on other side of your body and it’s hind legs- one of them being the proffered injured one that still bled over it’s brick colored scales- were perched like it was ready to pounce.

It’s nostrils were hovering above your chin as it’s eyes bore dangerously into your own.

This was it. You were going to die, you were almost certain of it now.

The dragon huffed as it opened its mouth. Small licks of fire fanned across it’s tongue in the dark cavern of it’s fang lined mouth and steam pushed from it’s nostrils like a chimney that hadn’t been opened to let out the smoke of the fire in it’s hearth.

You were petrified, frozen in fear and weren’t even capable of breathing. All of your senses were focused on the threat of death inches away from you and you knew that no one would know that you died. No one would find it odd that you weren’t in the village like you were every few weeks or so. They wouldn't find it strange that your cabin was abandoned. And you were certain that they would not conduct a search for you- you didn’t matter to them in the long run.

You were going to die and you were going to do so alone and your body would stay alone until the earth reclaimed it in it’s soil.

The dragon only then opened its mouth further, roared into your face and then sprung off you. It plunged into the tree line, knocking down and busting through the trees and tearing up the soil beneath its claws and talons as it escaped. Running from you and leaving you alive.

“What,” you breathed as you soon let out a strong, almost painful, burst of air that had been held and contained in your chest. Your heart beat strong like it would burst straight from your chest into the sky. You weren’t sure how long you lay in the dirt just trying to regain control of your body that had been previously paralyzed.

When you did manage to pick yourself up- albeit pathetically- you grabbed your discarded basket once again and rushed home.

“No more outside,” you declared to yourself in the clearing of trees and the one bloody trap left behind.

-x-x-x-

Despite the events of the day behind you, once your heart calmed itself and you were able to finally rationally think again instead of assuming you were at death’s door, your mind would flutter back to the dragon and it’s injury.

As you carried in buckets of water from your well or logs of wood for your fireplace, you worried. You felt silly worrying over such a mighty and strong being, but you couldn't stop that cloud from covering your mind. You wondered how it was doing or if it made its way out of the Woodlands- only briefly thinking about the damaged and torn or uprooted trees in its wake.

You went to bed that night far earlier than usual. The blanket of black had not yet completely enveloped the sky of deep orange and red. However, maybe the early bedtime hadn’t been a bad idea, considering you were awoken in the middle of the night anyway.

It was a small noise in the distance. A sound like the padding of paws of a dog running on wood or horse clops on cobblestone. Small and forgettable, but almost irritating and grinding on the nerves of the listener.

Crawling out of bed almost at zero energy levels from your previous encounters, you shook your head to try and shake the sleepiness away. Trudging to your door, you cracked it open to try and see if it was some foxes scraping in the glory of midnight or maybe some critter getting into trouble. Instead, when your door opened, the sounds of an eerily familiar growl filtered through the air.

All tiredness from before flew away as you shut the door harshly and grabbed your cloak to throw over your nightdress. You rushed to your table to grab your glass covered lantern and lit it before blowing out the match and tossing it. Going back to your door you threw it open again and ran out of it. You didn’t even bother locking it, the key still hanging on it’s key as it flopped against the wall from the air of the forcefully shut door.

You ran through the woods, trying your best not to trip on any rocks or sticks. You let out an occasional wince from your bare feet scraping too hard on the dirt or catching on the rough end of a stone. You were going down hill when you saw in the shadows a series of trees uprooted or knocked in two with claw marks on the trunks.

You tried skidding to a stop when the hill started to level out steadily, but there was a fat chance of that happening. You threw open your arms and snagged a tree trunk to forcefully stop yourself from going further. Your legs flew out in front of you far too dramatically for a spontaneous run in the woodlands at midnight as your lantern nearly flew out of your grasp.

You huffed as you heard the same growls you had heard before echo around you. You could hardly see, but you could tell the outline of the dragon in the darkness. You looked around as your lantern had lost it’s flame.

You dug in the pocket you had sewn into your nightdress and struck another match, lighting it again as the fire dimly lit up your face. You were now fully aware you were seen- even though you knew it already to begin with.

The dragon had previously been nipping and lapping at it’s wound with it’s split tongue before you had interrupted it’s silence.

“I knew it,” you whispered as you saw the same dragon from before. You slowly approached it, somehow feeling a little more confident than earlier even though it still growled at you. “Hey,” you soothe, “you know me. Just let me see,” you said as you walked around it’s curled body to it’s injured leg. Lifting your lantern up to see better, you weren’t shocked to see the scales still wet with troves of blood. Just how much blood did dragons have?

If a human bled this much for this long, you were sure they’d be long dead by now.

You carefully set your lantern aside and worked around your neck to remove your white cloak from your shoulders. “Hold still,” you instructed as you started to rather sloppily wrap the wound. You couldn’t let it just keep bleeding and it wasn’t like you had anything else to try and wrap it in- you’d just have to sew a new cloak or buy a new one in the village.

You didn’t even take the time to be shocked that the dragon once again let you do as you pleased in aiding it’s unfortunate situation. In fact, it was silent. There was no growling or snarling, just the sound of hissing when you brushed against the wound or wrapped your cloak around it too tight.

When you finished, you almost pouted at the sight of your cloak already starting to dot with the dragon’s hot blood seeping through the fabric. A loss, yes, but you felt like it was worth it from the relief you felt in your chest at the dragon’s ease of tension.

“If you stay put,” you started, grabbing your lantern again and looking up at the dark eyes of the dragon you were becoming almost familiar with, “I can come back in the morning with something to help you.” The dragon showed no sign of obeying or denying you and you weren’t going to stick around and press the issue.

At the end of the day, it could still very well tear you apart.

You soon left the dragon’s side, the fire of your lantern lighting your way back home. You’d come back just as you said you would and if the dragon was still there, then you’d try and help further so that it can eventually go back home. Even you knew that it had a home somewhere and you were sure that home was missed to some degree.

When you returned to your cabin, you breathed a small sigh of relief when you saw that in your haste of not locking your door behind you- no nightcrawler had snuck in and wrecked your home or stole anything. You walked inside, shutting and tightly locking up behind you as you set your lantern on your table.

Wincing at your sore feet, you wrapped them in cloth and a paste of herbs you had in a jar to help soothe aches and pain before you tucked yourself back into bed. Hopefully, you could stay asleep until the sun rises this time.

-x-x-x-

You were pleased to see that when you opened your eyes again, you could hear the birds and see the sunlight of what looked like late morning. At least you managed to get some decent sleep- although you weren’t all too surprised looking back on the last 24 hours. A lot had happened and to say it was taxing was an understatement.

You were slow moving this morning; another thing you weren’t shocked about.

Trudging around your cabin, you walked around in your nightdress gathering small jars of salves and ointments that could be useful to the dragon in the woods that may or may not still be there with your- no doubt- beyond salvaging cloak.

When you finally got changed, you threw on a dress of a fairly unflattering shade of brown since you may be kneeling on the ground or thrown into the dirt again from the dragon. You wrapped up a new layer of paste for your still sore feet before pulling them into your boots. You grabbed your basket with your half-hazardly thrown together first aid treatments and left your cabin- actually locking the door this time.

It was all a blur on what direction you rushed to last night in your sleepy, adrenaline pumped haze, but you were able to clearly see where your footsteps pressed into the soil. Following your own trail, you carefully descended the hill you flew down the night before and when it all leveled out, you smiled at seeing the dragon sleeping peacefully in the same spot you left it.

“Good,” you breathed happily. You were glad it stayed put- whether it was because you asked or not didn’t matter. You would be able to help more now and nothing filled your chest with more glee than being of use to someone, or rather something in this way. Healing was your passion after all.

You slowly padded up to the sleeping dragon and decided against working on it while it slept. It could spring to life and attack you out of instinct for all you knew. You sat a good distance from its body and in view of it’s line sight for when it woke up you wouldn’t be hidden. You sat on the ground, you're back against the trunk of a tree as you started digging around your basket for the folded and wrapped up herbs you had.

You weren’t sure how long you sat in the tree shaded morning sun plucking, grinding and mixing different herbs together in a cloth draw pouched you had with you. Eventually you started to hear groans from the dragon ahead of you. You figured that if the first thing the creature sees when waking up was you staring at it, then you’d push away any future idea of treating its leg. So, you kept yourself occupied with your herbs until it made a noise of awareness.

A handful of minutes pass when you feel a warm wind push towards you. Instinctively, you look up to see the dragon’s dark eyes looking at you. You smile at the mighty beast, the polar opposite of yesterday’s fear stricken paralysis.

You finished grinding a handful of mint smelling herbs between your palms to sprinkle into an oil you had with you as you swashed it around in it’s cork plugged jar. It was odd, doing your everyday tasks with a dragon for an audience.

When you finished, you stood up after placing the jar back under the cloth of your basket and brushed off your dress’s skirt. You fumbled around to grab the small oval container of salve before you started to approach the dragon.

It didn’t growl and it didn’t snarl. It extended it’s winged arms as it’s head dropped to the ground and it’s leg that was wound with your cloak that was now a deep shade of red was pushed out further for you to inspect. You didn’t want to let it get to your head that maybe, just maybe, this dragon was learning to trust you.

You knew that dragon’s had to have good instincts, so maybe it just realized that you weren’t a threat.

You carefully unwound your awfully tied cloak as you tossed it to the ground in a heap. You were glad to see that the hot blood that had been continuously seeping through brick red scales had finally stopped. You twisted open the container and began to smear the salve over and between the thick scales to the broken skin beneath.

You had expected them to be cooler to the touch like a lizard’s skin, but the scales and skin of the beast was warm like a freshly doused warm towel.

The dragon let you work in peace as it watched you without disruptions or growls. It didn’t even twitch if you touched a particularly pain-sensitive area.

When you finished, you placed the cap back over the salve and looked up at the dragon to address it. “The bleeding looks to be done, but we should cover it with something.” You looked down at your soiled cloak. “We can’t reuse that, it’s already used and we can’t put dried blood back on a wound.” You started to walk away to your basket to place the salve back and maybe take your cloth in your basket to try and at least tuck it into it’s scales or something when something snagged your dress skirt.

Yelping, you spun around and took a moment to process that the dragon had moved it’s winged talon to step on your dress to keep you from moving. Looking up to its face, you saw it looked at you with a calm expression flitting through its eyes and it shook its head.

“What?” You asked more to yourself than the dragon. “You don’t want it to be wrapped?” The dragon only moved it’s head back to look at it’s leg before lifting it’s arm back up and freeing you. You trotted back to the dragon’s leg and squinted at it like he was trying to tell you to.

You gasped at seeing how the wound already looked way better than it had just twenty minutes ago. You saw the damaged scales start to repair themselves as the skin below it’s scaled armor pulled itself back together and became covered again. You looked back to the dragon’s face, relief evident in your expression as you breathed out a sigh of happiness with a hand on your chest like a weight had been lifted off you.

“Oh, thank goodness. I’m glad that the rumors of a dragon’s healing potential are true at least.” You went back to your basket, dropping the container of salve inside as you lifted it back into your arms. “I’m going to be on my way then,” you said. You felt a little bad for leaving so soon, but you had hardly gotten anything down yesterday because of your meeting with the beast, so you were already behind on your own personal tasks.

You still needed to find some goldenrod and if you were honest, plucking some stuff to replace the amount of salve you used on the dragon’s leg wouldn’t be so bad either.

As you left into the thick Woodland, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched. You peered over your shoulder several times and from somewhere you could almost tell that the dragon was watching you from beyond the trees. Dragons had eyesight far stronger than human eyes, so when you felt a stare on your back, you didn’t doubt it.

It was obvious that it couldn’t travel through the Woodlands like you could without plowing down trees in its wake and it wasn’t exactly spacious enough to spread its wings and take off in this section of the woods.

When you left a location you could feel the eyes following you and even heard stomping in the distance of the dragon moving so it could keep you in it’s sights. You wondered briefly why it would be following you around if not for it wanting to eat you, but you just shrugged it off.

It was just past midday when you had finally started to depart back to your cabin. As you unloaded your basket inside your cabin and began to put everything away, you went back outside to gather a bucket of water from your well and you nearly jumped out of your skin from the sounds rustling behind your home.

If the glimpse of horns and wings was anything to go by, you knew that the dragon had somehow squeezed around the trees and followed you back to your cabin. Even closer to human territory. You crept around the cabin and met the dragon face to face for yet another time as you just smiled at it. It seemed relaxed and at ease to your surprise.

“Are you going to follow me around now?” You playfully asked as all it did was let out a small huff. “I know you can understand me,” you teased as you looked it up and down. You felt bad mentally referred to it as ‘it’ all this time, but you had no idea how to tell what this wyvern was. “If you’re going to follow me around girl-” your sentence was stopped short at a small growl. You perched your brow up at the dragon as it glared down at you. “Boy?” You corrected as the unpleasant look left his eyes.

You ticked your head a bit, nodding to yourself.

“Okay, that settles that.”

Throughout your day, you had the company of a dragon sitting in your yard watching you work. When you were inside, you kept the front door propped open with a piece of wood at the bottom and the windows were open so the dragon could still see you and you could still talk to him.

You rambled- a lot. It felt silly to be having a one-sided conversation with a dragon, but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t want him to feel left out- as odd as it was to say in terms of the beast- so you talked about a lot of things. Your hobbies, the process of making an ointment or what herbs to crush and mix with something to get the smell of berries. How you cooked and what it was; you even offered him a loaf of bread; he denied it (which you were glad for because that would have been an expensive sacrifice).

“I actually live here alone,” you speak aloud from the inside of your house so he could hear you through the open window his head rested next to on the ground outside. “I’ve lived here all my life practicing medicine and plants. I take care of myself decently well considering I live in the Woodlands.” You paused, mixing some broth with a pot of steamed vegetables and spices you had been boiling. “My village doesn’t exactly like me or my studies all that much, so my life here works out in the long run.”

You wondered if he found your babbling annoying since he was just stuck listening to you ramble on about whatever came to mind to keep him somewhat entertained. Spilling your life story wasn’t a thrilling tale, but it was a silence filler. You figured he didn’t mind as much as you may think since he stuck around.

When the day was ending, he made a sound of disgruntled groaning that wasn’t exactly a growl, but a sound of attention. He was apparently announcing his departure. You waved the dragon off through the open window as he left back into the Woodlands and you assumed that this would be the final time you met him.

You would be wrong.

Because that following day as the sun was high at just past midday, there he was again. Steadily, he was visiting you often and he became a normal part of your life.

-x-x-x-

“Hey, Suga,” you called when the dragon came into view from your window as you read in the morning light. You had started calling him by the name weeks ago when you caught him sniffing through your window at whatever you were baking at the time and accidentally sucked a bag of sugar up his nostril. You would have called him Sugar, but he just growled at the soft sounding name, so removing the R was the best deal you could cut him. He didn’t indicate what his name actually was, but you couldn’t just keep calling him ‘dragon’ or ‘wyvern’.

You had some decency.

You shut your book, setting it in the open window as you got up and made your way out. The leg that had been injured weeks ago had healed like it wasn’t hurt in the first place. No scar left behind and no scale left tarnished- it pleased you in all honesty.

Walking to him, he lowered his head to the ground with a small sigh through his nostrils as you brought you hand to run along the scales of his nose and head. It was like having a giant lizard fawn over your touch- or rather that was exactly what it was.

“Good morning, I haven’t seen you in a few days. Did you have a safe trip?” You asked as he just let out a small swooned dragon sound. You had gotten good at deciphering what his sounds and noises meant to a certain degree.

You had noted that every so often he would disappear for days on end and then return- be it a few days to a week or more later. He would travel to Dragon Country and then return to check and visit with you, or so you highly assumed. You knew that was his country and his home, so it was no shock to you that he went back. The shock was that he kept coming back to your cabin in the Woodlands.

You had read dragons were loyal, but this was astonishing. If regular visits with a mighty dragon was your reward for treating and freeing him from a trap, you had no regrets in doing so.

You stopped your ministrations on his head as you turned to go check off whatever chore you had left to do this morning off your to-do list when you felt his nose push into your back. Shoving you playfully forwards, you stumbled on your feet as you turned around with a playful smile and lifted brows.

“Oh you wanna play that way, huh?” You riled as he just huffed steam into your face. Your hair and dress whipped behind you as you just scoffed and jumped at him. The dragon shot to it’s legs and winged talons, skillfully dodging your puny, human lunges.

When you snagged your foot on your dress skirt and was ready to take a tumbling, ungraceful fall to eat dirt, his nose shot under you and caught you before you even made it close to the ground. Hooking your wasit with his horn, he nudged you back up to your feet as you just laughed at him and stroked his nose once again in gleeful thanks.

Suga almost purred- if dragon’s could ever.

As you spent your day with your companion, the sky started to tell you that night was coming and Suga’s departure once again was near. You were out in the yard, sitting on the grass with your basket beside you and all sorts of herbs, a grinding stone and jars and jugs to mix and create with. Suga lay behind you, curled around you like a protective wall, lazing away silently, but not sleeping. Just relaxed.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” You asked as you sprinkled some flower petals into a bottle of clear oil. He whined- a signal for no. “Going back to Dragon Country already, huh?” He huffed in agreeance as you chuckled. He sounded so sulky. “Will you be gone for a while this time?” He made no noise, but his head moved to affirm a yes. Another handful of quiet, dragonless days were in your future it seemed. “Well, be safe on your way. Watch out for traps,” you teased as he moved his body back just a bit for you to teeter backward from where you were leaning against him.

When he left you that night, his nose pressed against your torso as your arms wrapped around it in farewell. He had only started doing that recently- after his last trip back to Dragon Country in fact.

You always felt a little bit colder when he left you like that.

Four days passed and on the morning of the fifth, you had walked out of your house early in the morning with a freshly sown cloak of brick red and an empty basket. You dreaded going into the village for a great many reasons. But you simply couldn’t push it off any further and you needed things that only the merchants and shops in town would have.

It helped that when strangers would come into the woodlands and see your house, they would almost always knock on your door from curiosity and you’d always take any chance to sell something of your creation for a decent amount.

Locking your cabin door, you started your trip. You sighed. Hopefully, you’d be able to get into town and then get out just as quickly.

Suga had returned that day as he approached your cabin. He heard nothing inside and saw no sign of you around. Peering into our windows, you weren’t inside from what he could tell and he pouted at not seeing you. He lay at the side of your cabin, his head lay by your front door as he waited for you to come back.

A few hours passed and his ears picked up on the sound of your footsteps- he had familiarized himself with the sound and weight you put into your steps- as his eyes opened ready to greet you. However, a growl slipped past his fangs as he saw you come from the dirt trail between the trees that lead further out of the Woodlands.

You were shocked to see him back so soon as you wiped some sweat off your brow. Sweat that was mixed with dirt and the smallest dried patch of blood.

You had forgotten that Suga had never seen you go into and back from your village before, so the growl pulled from his throat made you shiver. Your forehead had a small cut about the length of your knuckle and your lip had a split in it. Your dress had grass strains in the knees and up the side of it as specks of dirt spotted your face and neck.

You walked to your door, setting your basket down with a cloth over it, the items you had gotten covered as you walked to Suga and placed your hand on the horn at the end of his scaled nose.

“What is it?” You ask, oblivious that it was your current state of disarray that made him fume with unease. He pulled his horn from your palm as he moved to nuzzle his nose into your torso. You stretched your arm to stroke under his eye as you soothed him. “Suga?” It wasn’t until he refused to move that you realized he was wondering if you were well and then you realized. “Oh,” you breathed, “I’m alright.”

He finally moved away from you and stared at you. You moved to pat his horn once before your fingers went under his scaled chin to lazily rub there. He almost hummed at the actions as you smiled with your split lip.

“This happens every time I go down to the village. Don’t worry too much, Scaly Hide.” As you soothed him, you weren’t completely aware of just how your injures made his dragon blood boil hotter than usual. You had been nothing but kind and vulnerable and truthful to him- a dragon- for no other reason than that’s just who you were as a person. Seeing you all cut up because of others? He found it absolutely preposterous.

As you rubbed beneath his chin, you started talking again. Your voice taking on a small wave of emotion he hadn’t heard from you before.

“I’m almost jealous of you,” you told him. His barbed tail twitched at your words. “I don’t know what the world of dragons is like, so I can’t say whether or not you understand the scorn of others. The prospect of you not having to deal with other humans though is one to be envious of.” Your eyes had a far off look of sadness that riddled his scaled body with pain.

He pulled his head from your hand and moved to nudge it behind you. He pushed your body against the giant wall of scales that is his own body as you started laughing at him. It wasn’t hard to understand an awkward attempt of a dragon wanting to console you. You raised your arms, reaching around what you could as you hugged his neck while his head stayed pushed against your back over your shoulder.

Suga didn’t understand how humans could do this to others of the same race. Dragon’s weren’t just comrades in arms in battle, but they were kin. They were branches of family, dear friends and reliant to each other in a way that didn’t just revolve around war and destruction. Of course, his race wasn’t perfect either with the occasional rouge or traitorous dragon, but those specific turncoats were always taken care of.

He couldn’t understand why humans hurt you, and he didn’t want to understand why. He just wanted it to stop.

When you finally stepped away from him and got back into his line of sight in front of him the look on your face made him feel better. It looked like you were already recovering from all the bad emotions that plagued you earlier. He blew a small huff of steam into your face playfully as you swatted at his horn.

“I’ve been curious,” you started, “I read once that dragons have large quantities of magic and even have a second form they can change into. A human form that is different with each species. Do you have one?” His chin dipped as he let out a noise of confirmation. He did have one, though it had been years, maybe even centuries since he last changed into it. He didn’t even remember what it looked like anymore- he had forgotten about it truthfully.

Your eyes light up in excitement at the discovery.

“You do! That’s so cool!” Your over-excitement almost startled the poor beast. You let out a small sigh of contentment as you turned back to head inside and put your things away and to wash off the grime of your injuries. “I kind of want to see what it looks like,” you mutter, unable to realize that your thoughts slipped out in the form of words that were just loud enough for the dragon to hear.

Suga was quiet as he stood guard outside your home for the rest of the afternoon. The only time you left was when you went down to the small lake nearby and washed up. He was a distance away to keep anything or anyone else from intruding on your privacy. He seemed tense, but also not- even if it didn’t make sense. You tried asking him what was wrong with him, but he just nuzzled his head into your chest without a sound.

When you told him goodnight he left in the same silence he had been sitting in all day. It took a little longer for you to go to sleep because of your worry.

The next morning, you woke up and did what you always did. Same old routine with the label of a different day. Though, when you left your home to go and grab a few pieces of cut up wood for your fireplace, you stopped short. Outside your door, sleeping against the side of your house on the ground was a man.

You hadn’t seen this man before in your life and you were shocked speechless as you looked him over. He was dressed oddly, far different than the men in your village dressed.

His body was lean and covered in small scars around his chest, as shown from the absences of a shirt. A long, black cape hung at his back that he used to lounge on instead of the hard, dirt ground as the collar of it was covered in fur that covered his shoulders and brushed against his chin. His pants were brown and baggy that wrapped around his ankles and displayed his bare feet that were no doubt covered in calluses. Red gauntlets ran from his wrists to his elbows on both arms that were crossed against his bare chest.

You were hesitant to wake him up, but this was your cabin and it was early in the morning. If Suga came by to see another man here, he could get defensive and that was a scenario you really didn’t want to witness.

You knelt at his side, the door to your cabin still open behind you just in case he was hostile and you had to retreat back inside in a rush. You reached out and grabbed his shoulder- his skin was hot. You shook him once- nothing.

“Excuse me?” You squeaked as you shook him again. He groaned as his head nodded off to the side before his chin dipped and you saw his brows moving underneath the fridge of his black hair. You retracted your hand when you felt his shoulders move up and heard him take in a breath of awakening. “Sir, are you alright?”

Lifting his head, his eye were narrow and dazed in sleep as he looked up at you. They were beautiful. They were dark, black and shining like obsidian jewels. They were... familiar? You squinted at him as he opened his mouth.

“Oh,” he lazily breathed out. His voice felt like a breeze of summer wind. “You finally woke up,” he told you as you just started inquisitively at him.

“Isn’t that my line,” you quipped back. “Do I,” you hesitated, “have we met before?” He didn’t answer you as he just sat up straighter and raised his hand to your face. His warm hand ran along your jaw to your lip where he pushed against the scabbed over split in it. You flinched away from his touch as you backed away from him, your eyes locked onto his without any will power to break the contact.

“You said you wanted to see what my human form was like,” he point forwardly told you. You looked him over one more time before returning to his eyes. So that’s why they looked so familiar.

“Suga?” You asked with a pitched voice.

“My name is actually, Yoongi,” he smirked as an unfamiliar heat rose in your cheeks.

-x-x-x-

Yoongi’s visits continued and he often stayed in his human form around you now. He would waltz into your home with you and even started helping you with chores around the cabin. He’s taken to splitting your firewood (although he wouldn’t use your hatchet, he’d just rip the logs in half), and would carry things for you when you were moving to and fro. He’d watch you cook and learn if you offered to teach him something.

You had to admit that having him walking and working around with you as a human instead of a wyvern was a lot more convenient. Plus, this way he was able to have actual conversations with you.

The season’s started to change and the cool breath of autumn began to creep into the air. You would often wonder if Yoongi would stop coming to visit when the temperature drops.

“Yoongi?” You called as he sat in the middle of your floor in front of the burning fire. It was late in the afternoon as you were cooped up inside away from the chilly air. He turned to look over his shoulder at you over his fur lined cape collar.

“Hmm?”

“When winter comes, will you still visit me?” You asked as you took a drink from your warm tea before setting it back down on the table with the book you had been reading before. “I mean, you’re still technically a reptile in basic regards, so you must not like the cold that much.”

“It’s true that I don't like the cold,” he said, “I hate it. It makes my scales rough and then that makes it tough to move around.” You let out a small, nearly silent sigh. “However, if you get lonely, I’ll still come see you.” You looked back at him as he was staring at you completely serious.

The conversation died after that, you not having the heart to ask him to keep visiting. You couldn’t ask that of him if he disliked the cold that much. Surely, you’d be okay without him by your side for a few months, right? Besides, you still had until the first snow to spend with him, autumn had just started after all.

Another week passed and you had once more traveled into the village for some items you needed that you had run out of. It was no shock seeing a trip to the village so soon after the last considering you had been feeding and caring for Yoongi when he came to your cabin. Supplies run a lot faster on two figures instead of just one.

Yoongi had been gone the last couple days, so you assumed he’d be popping by anytime now so you went as soon as you could. To your misfortune, when you returned once again roughed up, Yoongi was sitting in front of your cabin door waiting for you. You had half a mind to sneak in through your bedroom window and avoid him for a bit before you let him in to avoid him seeing your freshly beat body.

Though, you spent just enough time in mental turmoil that he had seen you already.

He jumped to his feet, his face an expression of shock as he ran to meet you half way as you walked to your cabin. You greeted him with a smile just as you always did.

“Good-”

“Hush,” he shushed you as he quickly took the basket from your arms and set it on the ground at your feet. He took your chin between his fingers and started tilting and moving your head around in different angles looking you over. Your cheeks flushed as he stared intently at you. You knew it was just an inspection of your wounds, but it still made your heart pound in your chest. “They hit you again,” he growled.

“Yoongi, it’s alright.”

“No,” he seethed, “it is not.” You swore you started to see small wisps of smoke seep from his nose as he breathed steam. He must be really angry, you though. “They cannot just keep treating you like this just because you’re you.” The hand that held your chin moved to rest on your cheek before gliding up to your forehead- pushing your hair back as his hand moved to rest on the back of your head. “Human’s really are cruel,” he whispered.

You couldn't argue with that.

“I’m already used to their treatment,” you attempt to sooth. The physical pain may still occur with each lashing, but you had long since grown emotionally distant from them. They couldn’t break you any further.

“You shouldn’t be. You should be treated with respect and kindness.”

“Like how you treat me,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Yoongi paused, his hand coming down to rest on the crook of your neck, his long nails running over your pulse point as his eye softened.

“No,” he whispered. “I’m the only one who can treat you this way.”

“What?” You were confused. He treated you exceedingly well and he wanted other people to treat you better too, but not like him? “That doesn’t make much sense, Yoongi.”

“It does to me.”

“Well, then the argument is officially over, huh?” You chuckled as he brought his hand off you and reached for your basket. He let a smirk grace his lips as he turned and led you back to your cabin so he could help you clean your injuries.

As he helped treat and dress your wounds and even helped you make the daily meals, he would nit pick about you going into town. He offered to start going with you, or at least waiting on the edge of the village so he wouldn’t make a fuss in human society with his less than human approach to things, but you denied him.

He wanted to argue with you, to let him do as he wanted, but you just told him that you usually only went on days he wasn’t with you. It was never planned, but things just always seemed to fall in that manner.

In the end, he yielded on the subject; however, before he left that night, he presented you with something. A flower-sized, brick red scale. He placed it in your palm before he left you.

“If something ever happens, you use that scale and call for me. I’ll come flying over as quickly as I can.” You laughed at his over protectiveness. Dragon Country was miles off from here, so it would take him more than a handful of minutes to get to your cabin depending on where in the world of his kind he was at in the given situation. You accepted the scale nonetheless, grateful for his tender gesture.

Everything seemed fine again for time, until Yoongi came to your cabin and saw you prepping to go into the village yet again one morning. He scowled as he watched you pull your red cloak over your shoulders and grab your basket as you pulled on your boots. He hid behind the wall of your home as you locked the door and were on your way.

Yoongi didn’t want you to know he was there following you. He stayed behind you as you walked the Woodlands trail back to society and the entire way he pouted that you had once again not told him you were going.

He stood on the outskirts of the village that brought you harm, sitting high up in a treetop to avoid being seen. He knew going into the village after you would get him caught and he knew that if someone even looked at you strangely, he’d probably snap.

He sat there for a while, just waiting and watching until you finally showed up again, ready to head back home. His back straightened as he almost smiled seeing you unharmed. He was going to jump down and greet you, fess up that he had followed you and let you scold him as he walked you back home, but before he could even begin moving, he stiffened.

Knelt on the tree branch he hid behind the brown, red and yellow leaves that hadn’t fallen to the ground and the black of his cape as a group of boys not much older than yourself ran up behind you. You were just at the tree line of the Woodlands when they had taken your basket from you and shoved you from behind, making you fall to your knees with a cry.

He was technically in Woodland territory, he had no problem showing himself outside of your village.

As you rolled onto your back, ready to shove your way to your basket and scurry away just as you had a million times before, something fell from the treetops behind you. Twisting your body, you only saw a blur shoot past you before one of the three boys was on his ass in the dirt groaning.

Turning back to your front, your mouth dropped open.

“Yoongi?!” One boy had helped the other off the ground as the last was squaring up to start a scrap with this random guy who had popped out of the Woodlands. You wanted to shoot up and tell them to stop it and leave Yoongi alone, but they froze before you could even warn them.

The three of them swallowed as they started taking small steps backward in retreat.

Yoongi had tensed his whole body, fingers curled with his claws out. His face had scales trailing from his cheekbones to his chin as his eyes seeped with complete blackness. It was like his hair was standing on end as he snarled and raised his lips to bare his fangs at the offenders. He was daring them to try him.

Anyone with two eyes, even one eye, could clearly see this man was a dragon and nothing short of a fierce one who didn’t know how to stand down. Not willing to pick a fight with a being of that caliber and not being properly prepared to boot, the trio turned tail and ran back into the village.

It was deathly silent as they retreated and Yoongi’s body seemed to relax as you started at his back. His still shoulders went slack as his squared and ready to pounce stance calmed and straightened back out. His hair settled and the small growls you had heard before disappeared.

“Uh, Yoongi?” You call softly, not knowing if he was going to whip around and start yelling at you or not.

He did not.

He calmly walked to the basket they had taken from you, picking it up and walked back to your side. He set it down before he grabbed your arms gently and started to pull you off the ground. Once you stood on your feet, he straightened out your cloak as you brushed off your dress skirt.

“What are you doing out here?” You asked him, but he didn’t answer you. He just placed his hand on the small of your back, turning you around before he gently pushed you forward to start you off back into the Woodlands and back to your cabin.

No matter how you tried to talk to him, he never answered the entire trip. He was completely silent and he didn’t give you any facial ques on what his problem was either. He stayed quiet, a still canvas all the way into your cabin where he sat your basket on your table then sat himself in front of your fireplace that wasn’t even lit yet. It was like the might dragon was pouting.

“Yoongi, please just come over here,” you plead. You walk behind him as you see his shoulders slump in a silent sigh before he’s standing in front of you again. He turns and looks down at you and instead of an angry look in his eyes like you were expecting, you see them shine with unshed tears. “Yoongi-”

He pushes the words from your throat out of you as he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pushes you face into his warm, bare chest. He lets out a small, shaky breath as his hold tightens around you. The hand on the back of your head holding you to him felt desperate and sad. You reach around him and snag you hands on the inside of his fur lined cape behind his back.

“I was worried about you,” he all but whimpers. “I know I shouldn’t have followed you, but you didn’t tell me that you were going to that village again and I just couldn’t stop myself. I was so relieved to see you unharmed as you were leaving, but then those scumbags,” he cut himself off with a harsh breath. “Does that really always happen to you?”

You nod and give a weak ‘yes’ in reply.

“No more,” he tells you. “I won’t let it happen anymore. I’ll keep you safe and I’ll protect you from them. Even when winter comes, I won’t stop visiting you. I’ll keep coming back, I promise.” You wanted to deny him, tell him not to worry about it since he can’t stand the cold. But, you felt selfish and you wanted him to keep coming back. You wanted him to dote on you and to keep you safe like he says.

“I’ll be relying on you then,” was all you told him. When the moment is past, you pull away from his warm chest to look up at him with a playful grin. “You’re pretty pushy when it comes to my safety, it’s almost cute.”

He shoves you at your jest as he tells you to sit down and go unpack your things. He plops himself back in front of the fireplace, huffing a ball of fire to get it going in a hurry. You weren’t sure if it was the light from the fire or not that painted his cheeks pink.

-x-x-x-

You went without village harm for a month now. Just as he said, Yoongi was at your side at least every other day instead of a few days away at a time. He’d always ask if you were alright or anyone had given you any trouble. He knew when you were lying, he had gotten good at telling apart your quirks, so when you told him you were alright he was always relieved.

The weather kept getting colder and you kept getting more concerned about Yoongi’s choice to go against the cold to come see you as often as possible. You always thought about how to tell him to not come after the first winter snow to help his overall health; you just had to figure out a way to phrase it so that he’d actually listen.

It was one of those nights where you hadn’t gotten to sleep very early with your thoughts, and you had just drifted to sleep. You were somewhere between unconscious, yet aware as you briefly heard something in the distance. You weren’t awake enough to care and you weren’t aware enough to think it was something other than the nighttime animals.

A handful of minutes pass when you’re suddenly ripped from your sleep just as you were equally ripped from your bed. A grip on the back of your nightdress yanked you from your side sleeping position and pulled the fabric against your neck as you choked out a surprised gasp.

You kicked your legs in panic, your blanket hitting the floor of your room as you were pulled off your mattress and onto the floor. Hands grasped your biceps and began to drag you backward. You finally found your voice in the form of small screams and protests. You stumbled from the balls of your feet to your heels as you were pulled backward through your cabin before you were through the front door and on the ground.

Laying in the dirt and covered in goosebumps from the cold night air, you rolled to your back and propped yourself up with your elbows to see who just evicted you from your home. You shouldn’t have been shocked to see a band of men from the village, yet you were. You instantly started trying to scoot backward on your elbows and heels.

They were covered in furs and boots with torches in hand to light their way through the darkness. You looked at them in fear and confusion. What were they doing this far from the village and why were they here at all?

“What are you doing?!” You scream, your heels kicked into the dirt as your nails dig into the earth trying to back you away from one oncoming man, a blond one. You squirmed as one of his feet kicked at your wrist and pushed your back to the ground as he grabbed you by the collar of your nightdress. You whined, grabbing his wrist as you grimaced with squeezed shut eyes.

“You witch,” he accused as you peeked open your eyes. “We’ve let you live close to us, but you’ve gone and made a pact with a demon- a dragon!” Your eyes widened. Is this because Yoongi just popped out of nowhere a month ago when he followed you?

“You’re wrong!” You denied. You had no pact with him. He was just- you paused mentally. Was Yoongi a friend to you? You had been unconsciously thinking that for several weeks, but saying that out loud and admitting it to yourself as well as someone else- friendship didn’t feel like it did it justice. Was the connection you had with the dragon you saved from that trap- the same dragon who snarled in your face and decided not to kill you all those weeks ago- really just a friend? You swallowed.

Your breath lurched in your throat when the grip of your collar was released in turn for the hand to now encase around your throat fully. You gagged for a moment as the blond’s nails burned against your skin.

“Ransack the place!” The man who held your throat shouted over his shoulder. The two other men with him ran into your cabin and your squeezed shut eyes opened. You shoved the man’s hand off you, your neck burning as you pushed against his chest. He fell on the dirt as he groaned.

“Don’t! Leave my cabin alone!” You cried as you scurried to your feet. You didn’t get far before your ankle was grabbed and your leg yanked back. You tumbled ungracefully onto your chest, your nightdress riding up your legs and bum as you felt a weight on your back. The blond was sitting on you as you kicked. He held one of your arms behind your back and his other hand pushed your cheek into the dirt, holding your head down. “Stop it!” You cried into the earth as you heard sounds of destruction in your home.

Glass being thrown to the ground and broken, your shelves being pulled from the wall. You heard doors of cabinets opening and slamming shut after everything was pulled from them. The distant sounds of mess told you they were evening throwing things around in your room. You weren’t sure what they were looking for- evidence? But for what? Your connection with Yoongi to use against you?

“Hey!” One called from inside. “I found something!” Footsteps came back outside and stopped above your head. You were yanked up to sit on your knees- nightdress dirty and covered in small tears and frays of fabric- as the blond behind you snagged a hand in your hair pulling your head to look up. You winced as your eyes instinctively shut in pain before your chin was grabbed in a new hand.

A man stood in front of you, brown hair and accusatory eyes. In front of you, he dangled the scale of Yoongi’s he had given you that you had placed inside of a glass locket to keep it safe. You jolted in the blond’s grip, ripping your chin from the brunettes touch.

“Don’t touch that!” You screamed. The blond restrained you tighter. “Stop! That hurts!” You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

You weren’t sure how long those men kept you outside your home as they continued to trash it. You were less sure how long you were out in the cold, pinned to the ground and jerked around like a toddlers ragdoll.

Stomps to your legs to keep you from crawling or getting up and away. Jabs to the stomach to subdue you just long enough to restraining you as you tried to get your breath back. Knocks to the head to try and knock you out as you kept on fighting back. The cold was starting to get to you, your fingers and toes going numb. Scraps on your knees and elbows from the cold, autumn chilled dirt.

You were on your back on the ground, the same blond over your, pushing your face down as your arms were trapped under his knees that pinned you on either side.

You were close to giving up. You were going to lose your home- you expected them to set it on fire- and you were going to no doubt end up losing your life if this kept up. Would they take you back to the village and execute you? Tears trailed down the side of your face as you chewed on your lip.

This wasn’t fair.

“Yoongi,” you whimpered as your palms pushed into the earth, the dirt and rocks pushing into your skin just painful enough to keep you conscious.

It seemed instantaneous to you. It felt like a whirlwind just formed at the center of your small world as the gusts of wind blew around you. The man above you was blown off as he rolled in the dirt away from your tired, weak, and beaten body. Whimpers of terror rang in your ears from the other men as growling accompanied those whimpers.

Stomping and rushes of heat surrounded you with ignited sparks in the night sky. You managed to push yourself over to weakly roll onto your side and twist onto your stomach to look up at exactly what was happening. You didn’t see anything in front of you other than your cabin and the three men all on the ground cowering from the sight of something.

Your dazed eyes narrowed before you heard another growl and the feeling of something massive standing over you. Coming to a stomping halt at either side of you with distance to spare and to not make you feel suffocated, your eyes widened. You felt more awake now than the rest of the evening.

Twisting to look up, you were met with the mighty, giant form of the wyvern you had freed from the metal trap of men. Snarling with bared fangs and small puffs of fire on his tongue, Yoongi stood over you protectively.

Tears ran down your shocked face without your control at seeing him really showing up at your side when you truly, desperately needed him with you. You felt weak, but before your body could slump onto the ground, something grabbed you.

Another new body had looped their arms under yours to keep your chest off the ground and held you to them. You didn't recognize this person as you looked up at them. Another man, but this seemed far more mystic.

Snow white eyes with no iris or pupils to sit in their seas of white. Illuminated scales of white shone on their cheeks and their ears were pointed and finned. Hair as silver as the moon and skin as tanned as cooper. Was this another dragon? You couldn’t tell anymore; all you knew was that you felt safe in this person’s arms with Yoongi above you.

You slumped against them, your consciousness finally starting to fade on you with the adrenaline running low now that you felt a sense of safety. You couldn’t lose it yet, however; you had to calm Yoongi down. The men had stopped their attack in fear, so Yoongi didn’t need to instigate further.

“Yoongi,” you called weakly against the second dragon’s chest. “Don’t,” you pleaded. There was a small hush before the wind picked up and the stomping that was present before was replaced with harsh footsteps. Yoongi had reverted back to human form as he ran at the blond man who had previously held you down.

Yoongi’s long claws tore and pierced through the shirt fabric of the blond’s collar as he brought him up to his nose, snarling down at him. His fists shook in rage as his body trembled with restraint in your presence. Had you not been there, he was certain he would have killed all three of them without hesitation.

He picked the blond off the ground just enough to make his toes leave the grass as he threw him at the other two. He huffed, steam blowing out of his nose as his face remained angry.

“You ever come back here and I, as Y/n’s personal dragon, will tear you apart,” he threatened. “Now, leave!” He roared as the three men scrambled embarrassingly to their feet and down the trail back to whatever hole they crawled out of.

Yoongi huffed, breathless as he quickly heard your whimpers behind him. He spun around, rushing back to your side as he knelt on the ground beside you and took you from the other dragon’s grasp. He ran the back of his fingers along your cheek as you saw him. His calm, worried face brought you a sense of peace as you knew the trouble had left.

“Rest,” he whispered as you finally lost yourself to the unconsciousness that had been choking you around the throat.

-x-x-x-

You groaned slightly as your eyes cracked open. You were on your back as your lidded eyes were blurred staring up at the ceiling of your room. You were in a haze as you looked into nowhere. Thoughts were muddled in your head as you were aware of nothing for a handful of minutes, still high from sleep and drowsiness.

The sun shone through your open window as you heard the birds outside sing. It was bright- far brighter than you were used to waking up to.

It all came back to you all at once like a punch to the jaw. Memories of being dragged out of your bed, your home, to outside and pummeled until you were weak in the dirt as your home was broken into and wrecked.

Your arms shot up from under your blanket as they threw the covers off and you sat up straight as a rob. You sucked in a deep breath that hitched in your throat from the sudden movement that clouded you with a wave of dizziness.

Your palm moved to push into your forehead as your eyes squeezed shut and you hissed. Cracking them open, you felt something burn into your side like someone staring at you. Looking beside your bed, you weren’t wrong.

Sat on a stool beside your bedroom door was that same unfamiliar dragon with snow white eyes from the night before. You stared back at the unmoving dragon. Was he… sleeping? His eyes were open, but his arms that were crossed didn’t even twitch and his body was still as a corpse. He sat straight up and showed no signs of movement.

Did some dragon’s sleep with their eyes open? Yoongi didn’t, but maybe other breeds did.

“It is a relief to see you’ve awakened,” he suddenly spoke. You squeaked in shock, not expecting him to do- much less say- anything. “It has been a handful of hours since you lost consciousness.”

You looked away from him as you looked down at your lap. You scrunch your blanket in your palms, the same palms that you were finally starting to feel the stinging sensation of when you were thrown to the dirt. The small cuts and scrapes on your knees and legs and arms all started to tingle with an indescribably unpleasant feeling.

“So, that wasn’t just a nightmare after all,” you sulked to yourself.

“It seems that Sire holds a great deal of worry about your condition.”

Your brows drew close together in confusion.

“Excuse me?” You asked, confusion painting around your eyes. This dragon with no expression and no irises with the pure white eyes just stared at you. “Sire? Who are you talking about? No,” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “Who are you?” You re-ask, wanting to know this stranger dragon first. He was just sitting in your room watching over you, you figured an introduction wasn’t out of the question.

The dragon brought a webbed hand up to their chest, lowering their head to you in a small bow. You recoiled at such an action. No one had bowed to you before in your life- that was reserved for royals and people of importance. Not someone like you, a Woodlands hermit. The action made a blush fan across your cheeks in embarrassment.

“I am Navia. I work under Sire as the leader of the Dragon Guard of His Majesties palace. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. It is a pleasure, My Lady.” His voice was smooth like the surface of a peaceful lake surrounded by nature. His usage of honorifics only made the embarrassing red cheeks of yours darken.

“Y-you don’t need to address me like that!” You sputtered as you twisted on your bed to slide your legs out of your covers and hang them over the bedside. “Just Y/n, is fine. I don’t need any titles,” your voice wavered in embarrassment as the white eyes of Navia returned to you.

“I do not know if I will be able to address you so casually. It may displease him.”

“You keep mentioning someone; Sire? Who is that exactly?” Navia never got a chance to answer when their was three knocks on your bedroom door before it was opened. The redness in your cheeks was broken and a smile pulled on your lips on seeing Yoongi in your doorway. “Yoongi!” You happily called as he quickly made his way to your bed, kneeling in front of you taking your hands into his own.

“How long have you been awake? Are you in pain?”

“I haven’t been up long, I was just talking to Navia and introducing ourselves. I don’t feel particularly good, but I don’t feel particularly bad either. Though, I feel better than I did if that’s anything to be accounted for.”

Yoongi’s eyes softened at your smile. You talked so easily and so soon after you were attacked so brutally. He wondered where you found the strength to do so. If he was in your position he’d be a pot of boiling rage, but he didn’t sense anything like that from you. Yet, instead he could see the sorrow behind your eyes.

“Navia,” he spoke as the dragon behind him stood at the call of his name. “Give us a moment,” Yoongi’s voice was stern with instruction.

“As you wish, Sire.” You looked at Navia as he left. You looked back down to Yoongi who was already looking at you as if you were the only thing he wanted to look at for the remainder of his life.

“Sire? So, he’s been talking about you?” You quirked your brow as Yoongi’s hand left yours and moved to cup around your cheek. “Yoongi?”

“There is a lot I haven’t told you and there are a lot of things we need to talk about. I didn't mean to lie- to keep it from you, but I just never had the chance to bring it up. Things about me I’ve kept from you.” You remained silent as he spoke no more. You both sat in silence for a while as you gathered your bearing.

Yoongi had taken to tending to you. You showed him once how to properly wrap bandages around wounds, and so he did. He wrapped any wound that seemed painful (which was many to his eyes) before he was helping you off your bed.

“Yoongi, I’m not so hurt I can’t walk myself,” you chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your back to support you. One of your arms clutched at the cape behind him as the other supported your balance on his chest. He held you to his side as he was careful not to rush his steps and trip you up.

“Still, you’re in no condition to be completely independent right now. Allow me to help you.” You almost scoffed at his aid as if you weren’t able to handle yourself, but you did appreciate it- especially when he didn’t need to offer such kindness.

As he helped you out of your room, you were shocked to see not a trashed cabin like you expected, but it was almost completely clean aside from the broken cabinet doors that sat against the wall in a pile. Whatever would have been broken was picked up and things were on the counter and on the table out of the way and where they belonged. A fire was even lit in the hearth of the fireplace.

You looked up to Yoongi. Did he clean it up? He helped you to the table where he sat you down on the chair by the window where you would normally drink something warm. You felt a little bad you hadn’t set out a plate of feed for the birds and critters today- but allowed yourself a pass considering your situation.

Navia was sitting by the fireplace as he watched the two of you. Yoongi moved to sit on the table’s edge- as unmanneristic as it was, it somehow suited him. He was in front of you against the wooden table, his fingers brushing along your cheek that had a patch over it to cover your cuts.

“Where would you like me to start, Scale?” He asked you. Your face deepened when he addressed you like that. Was that his form of a nickname? You shook the thought away as you opened your mouth.

“My cabin, I guess?” You realize you didn’t give him much of a specific answer. “I mean, I was expecting it to be a nightmare, but it’s so clean?”

“That is because I cleaned it up,” he softly told you with a small smile. So, you were right. “The times I have been here, I was familiar with the placements of most of your belongings. Others I admit I guessed, but I couldn’t leave it like it was. You have enough to worry about.”

“Well, thank you for that,” you graciously tell him.

“It was nothing.” You spent a good portion of that day talking to Yoongi where you were. If you wanted to get up and move to take a break from the flood of answers to any question you had, he would help. Navia would walk around and do small chores for you if you were kind enough to ask- or have Yoongi tell him to. The tanned dragon was awfully obedient, yet kind to a fault it seemed.

The shortened days of winter were showing as the sky started to progressively darken. You watched it from the window of the cabin you had been in all day. It had been a long time since you spent all your time inside without much of anything to do. It was relaxing even if under unpleasant circumstances.

Yoongi had handed you a mug of something warm for your throat as you thanked him and took small, cautious sips due to its heat. Yoongi watched you as you watched outside, the occasional chuckles slipping past your lips when you saw birds or squirrels chase each other around.

“Y/n,” Yoongi called as Navia had taken his place back by the fireplace. He was, unsurprisingly, not fond of the cold so he had stuck to the fireplace like glue as often as he could. “Do you want to leave this cabin?”

His question caught you off guard. You lowered your mug to the table top as you looked at him.

“What?”

Yoongi’s mouth was pressed into a thin line as his eyes were narrowed in a veil of anxiousness. In truth he didn’t want you to live here anymore. What happened the night before could very well happen again and what if he didn’t get to you in time next time? What if next time they drag you off or even kill you? He couldn’t handle that. He didn’t even want to think about it.

“If I left,” you chuckled bitterly as you looked back outside, “where would I go? I can’t just live in a cave or in trees.”

“You could come back with me.” There was silence in the cabin’s front room. The sound of the fire crackling and the small sounds from outside your walls. “Come back with me to Dragon Country and live there.”

“That’s impossible,” you told him. “I am no dragon. How could I live there?” You half expected Navia from behind to slip into the conversation and throw in his opinion on the matter. You, a human leaving the Woodlands and running off to live in Dragon Country? There was no way, it was preposterous. “Why take me back anyways?”

“Dragon’s are only able to choose one being to become absolutely loyal to without fault in their lives. We live for years, decades, centuries. The oldest of dragon’s can live for hundreds of human lifetimes, so we are especially picky when it comes to our choice.”

“What does that have to do with me?” You asked.

“I said so before, I am your dragon.” That’s right. You did remember him saying that in his rage the night before. Something about being your personal dragon and threatening the men not to try another attack stunt again.

“So, then-”

“I chose you,” he admitted. You felt your air leave you in silent waves. “Out of all things I’ve met of my years alive, you were the first to treat me kindly without expecting anything in return. You were my first in many things that warmed my being. That is why I want you to come back with me.”

You opened your mouth then shut it again before you shook your head, trying to process his words. You took a shaky breath and looked back to him again.

“Say I agreed, isn’t it too dangerous? I mean, you might be with me, sure, but I’m still just a human woman. What could I possibly do so you wouldn’t have to protect me all the time? Wouldn’t I just be a constant risk?”

“That would not be the case,” he told you sternly. “I would see to it that every dragon be made aware of who you are. Once they know, they wouldn’t dare lay a talon on you unless they’re turncoats.” Yoongi sounded so serious, you almost believed him. “They would treat you better than these humans ever have,” he promised.

“How are you so sure?” You narrowed your eyes at him, challenging his word. He sure sounded high and mighty for proposing something that sounded so risky.

“Because I’m your dragon,” he repeated. You almost groaned and rolled your eyes. You felt like you were running in circles with him.

“What does that have to do with anything?” So what? You get to boss around and rely on a dragon. As legitimately remarkable as that is, you didn’t seem to connect that to your safety in his country.

“Because my Master in question- you- would be commanding the dragon in charge of Dragon Country.” There was a beat of silence.

What.

“So, you’re claiming to be what? The King of Dragon Country? Am I just supposed to believe that?”

“Yes, you are.” He told you with a straight face. There was no sign of lying or hesitation. He seemed so sure and serious of himself that you were questioning yourself of his truth.

“But that’s-”

“If I may,” Navia spoke, cutting you off from behind you as Yoongi shot him a glare for interrupting you. You turned to look at the white-eyed dragon as his tanned skin shone with the fire’s casted light. “It’s wise to know that the King detests liars and lies in general.”

Your eyes widened as you whipped your head back to Yoongi who was still shooting the other dragon a look before he returned his sights back to you.

“Oh my Gods, you’re serious.”

The night concluded a long, well-rounded talk about just who Yoongi really was. Finding out he was a king was one thing, but it was harder to understand that you were now in charge and in command of that king. You felt simultaneously all powerful and powerless.

In the end, you did agree to go back with him; however, under one condition.

-x-x-x-

You sat at your desk in your room, scribbling line after line of ink on a piece of parchment. It had been a week since your ‘unfortunate situation’ as you called it and you were healing well. You fixed your cabin the best you could and moving around like normal again was easier by the day. You could already almost chop firewood again- not that you actually were. You had no reason to stock up anymore.

On your bed was a bag. One that was large and had the flap open to show the contents inside. A few folded dresses and one of your leather corsets that wasn’t completely ruined. Jars and bottles of salves, potions, crushed herbs, flowers, and sacks of roots and leaves. Even your favorite cup and a knowledgeable book about medicine. All neatly packed.

You stretched as you leaned back in your chair and looked out the window to your room. You smiled as a bittersweet feeling fluttered in your stomach.

You looked down at the letter you had just finished as you folded it up and placed it inside of an envelope before writing the name of to whom it would be addressed on the front.

Your windows rattled with a gust of wind outside. You smiled as you got up from your desk and grabbed your bag. You tossed the flap of ti over the bag, the large button in the flap of it looping through a latch to close it securely. You threw the long strap over your shoulder as you grabbed the letter from your desk and opened your bedroom door.

You stopped, turning to look at the room once more. It was clean, bed made and everything neat and tidy. You smiled sadly at your space before you said goodbye to it. You felt silly saying farewell to a room.

When you walked into the main room, Yoongi had already let himself in. He smiled at you when he saw you. Just as you had asked him a week ago, he had left you alone for the last 7 days. That was your condition, even if he grumbled about it. You wanted one last week on your own in your lifelong home- that was all.

He walked to you and grabbed your arm gently before bending to softly push his lips against his cheek. You jolted as you covered your skin with your hand.

“What was that for?” You asked, flushed.

“Simply, because.”

“That is not an answer,” you scowled. “Did Navia come with you?” You asked peering around his back to look.

“Of course he didn’t. I don’t need an escort.”

“Of course you don’t,” you giggle. You walked around your cabin, running your fingers over the surface of your counters, your fireplace’s bricks, your dining table and around the window frames. You took everything into your memory even though this was the only home you ever had. Maybe that was why you felt like crying.

“Are you unwell?” Yoongi asked, coming up behind you and placing his hands on your shoulders. He could see how hard this was for you even without you looking at him directly. He knew this was his selfish wish, but if you really wanted to stay he wouldn’t drag you away.

“I feel like I'm homesick, but I haven’t even left yet,” you chuckle as your eyes stung. One of Yoongi’s hands moved to rest on your head as he pushed his cheek against the top of his hand to lean against your head.

“It will be alright,” he soothed.

“I know,” you chocked.

You spent a little while longer in your lifelong home before you felt like you were finally as ready as you’d ever be to leave. You feared if you stayed too much longer you’d root into your floorboard and then you’d never move again. As you walked out of the house, you took the key that hung on the inside of the door frame and took it out with you. You didn’t lock the cabin door, instead you placed the key on the outside doorknob.

This cabin would be welcoming to anyone who needed it, that was what the key hanging outside the space signified.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Yoongi asked for the umpteenth time, earning him an eye roll from you.

“Yes, now take me away or else I’ll start ugly crying.” He chuckled before he was walking with you out of the Woodlands and when you reached the edge of the lands, he transformed into his wyvern form. You climbed onto his neck just behind his head so you could clutch onto his horns (or his ears, whichever worked best with your grip) before he was flying off with you completely.

Leaving that cabin, the humans and one single letter on the dining table addressed to ‘Villagers’ behind for good.

-x-x-x-

“Father! Look, is this what you were talking about?” A small child cheered as he ran through the Woodlands and came across a small cabin that was covered in overgrowth. The wood had been overrun with vines and moss. Small tree saplings sprung from the wood above on the roof and weeds overtook the ground that was once all dirt. The trunk that had once been used to chop wood years and years ago had a sapling of a new tree ready to grow in the next hundred years.

Nests of birds, holes and burrows of moles and squirrels littered the area.

The child ran around the perimeter of the cabin, eyeing it up and down as small plumes of red smoke puffed through their nostrils in excitement.

“I’ve never seen a human house before!”

“Juilius, come back to me before you trip or get caught in a vine.”

The child trotted back to his father who had come to the Woodlands simply to show his son what the home of a human looked like. Although, times have changed and this is certainly not how humans lived anymore. This cabin was long forgotten to time and nature had long since reclaimed it.

The visit was short and sweet to a degree as the child was soon ushered to be ready to leave. “Your mother wants you home at a reasonable time. We can’t keep her waiting.”

“I’m coming,” the child cheered as he started leaving the Woodlands with his father’s hand in his own. “Will I get to fly part of the way back this time? I swear I can!”

“Alright, you can until we hit the first mountain peak; but don’t tell your mother.”

“I won’t!” He promised.

Landing peacefully in Dragon Country and arriving safely at the palace, the child giggled happily to himself on how well he was able to fly on his own and how his wings were getting stronger day by day.

“Yes, but you still can’t retract your scales yet, now can you?” His father teased. Juilius pouted as his brick red scales refused to fade in his human form.

“Well,” a voice called to them in a happy tone. “You look just like your father when you pout like that with your scales out.”

“Mother!” Juilius cheered as he ran to his mother’s arm, clinging to her as he was picked up and nuzzled into her neck. “Father took me to the Woodlands today. He said that there was a cabin in the woods where you used to live, so he let me see it!”

You blinked down at your blush-cheeked scaled child. “Oh did he? I hope he didn’t let you fly at that dangerous height.”

“Nope!” The child grinned as innocent as can be- keeping his promise to his father in the small little white lie.

“You always assume the worst of me. Don’t you, Scale?” Yoongi teased as he came to your side with your child on your chest as his legs kicked playfully on either side of your hips. He was young, only a decade old. He was still a hatchling when it came right down to dragon ages.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Mother, can you tell me about the humans?”

“You’re always so curious about them. Why do you want to know, Hatchling?”

“Well, you used to be one right? Father said you only got your scales and horns when you came here.”

“Well, then that is going to be a long story. It’s only right if your father helps tell part of it too. It is his fault I became a dragon in the first place,” you looked at Yoongi as he cleared his throat. “Isn’t that right, Your Majesty.”

“I really don’t know what you could be referring to,” he sheepishly retorted, looking away. As Juilius tried annoying the answer out of his father, he just shushed him. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“That’s not fair,” the child pouted.

“My Lady,” your attention was called from Navia who had finally tracked you down. His white eyes glowing down the halls like nighttime fireflies as he approached. “A new hatchling was born in the valley this morning and it’s mother asked if you would be gracious enough to name them.”

Your eyes shined. “I’d love to,” you said as you set Juilius down and kissed his forehead. You moved to kiss Yoongi’s cheek as you allowed Navia to escort you away. The dragon child took his father’s hand.

“So, what mother said about how she became a dragon; why do I need to wait until I grow up to know? Is it some kind of big dragon secret?” Yoongi’s face flushed as he cleared his throat again and was soon leading his son off somewhere else to clean up after his day out.

“I already told you, not until you’re older.”

Who knew that the exchanging of the blood and saliva of the king of dragons was able to gradually change humans into dragons? Yoongi certainly never knew until one morning you woke up with scales dusting your cheeks after a rather specific night.

To which would soon be the outcome of the pestering royal child, Juilius.

-END-

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oftenderweapons · 3 years

Note

I have a prompt!!! Joonie gets jealous of yn’s friendship with a coworker and decides to send her flowers and give her a big sexy kith in front of everyone after work

Okie, probs Joon would never smooch Vixen in front of her office (mostly bc Vixen wouldn't let him — and she'd make him sleep on the sofa for a couple nights cause "That's my workplace, you dumbass!") HOWEVER let's act as if he isn't a celebrity and she isn't the most private human being on Earth.

There we go!

Pairing: Namjoon x Vixen

Wordcount: <1k

Genre: established relationship, romance, allusive

Rating: 18+

Trigger warnings: making out (with audience), jealous!Joon, smooth!Joon, mentions of oral sex/thight riding.

THIRST HOURS ARE OPEN — SEND PROMPT

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken a while for Namjoon to catch up on the extra attention the new assistant was giving you. You had been driven home more than a couple times as your latest project grew gradually more and more complicated. Plus, he could never use the excuse of bringing you coffee to see you during your breaks, since the damn assistant was always ahead of him.

He was growing impatient. And petty. Though his brain insisted on him being rational, one too many late nights lead to the inevitable. He was furious at the man trying to take his spot. It was his own duty to make sure you ate and took your breaks and to drive you home — after all, he had finally managed to get his license only to come pick you up and drag you home whenever you stayed at the office too long.

“Hello darling!” you called from the door.

“Did you eat?” was his immediate reply.

You chuckled and taunted him, “Not even 'hello'?” You knew the question was part worry and part jealousy. He was checking whether you had had dinner with Noah.

“I had dinner delivered at the office. Did you eat?” you asked, just in case he wanted some company.

“Did you have it delivered or did Noah bring it to you?” His tone was venomous, but not toward you. He basically hissed out your assistant's name. You were quite sure that he would apply for the job weren't it for the tiny inconvenience of him being a grammy-nominated artist.

“I had it delivered. Easy, grizzly bear,” you joked before standing before him, running your fingers through his hair to soothe him a little. Too bad you could almost feel the cogs of his pretty head spinning at full speed.

The following day, you realised you could give him a little treat, trying to ease his poor nerves and letting him mark the territory.

Around dinner time, you texted him. The office was empty enough for him to roll around casually without anyone bothering him. So you texted him.

Would you like to bring me some dinner, Joonie bear?

His reply was immediate.

Isn't there ~Noah~ bringing it to you~~~?

You couldn't believe he actually used italics in his text. Good god, he was so annoyed... It made you chuckle mischievously, but at the same time, you decided to reward him for how he had been so disciplined in controlling his jealously.

I wanted to see your big, sexy body though... I guess I'll have to ask "~Noah~" then... :(((

He replied in a nanosecond.

I'LL BE THERE IN FIVE DON'T YOU DARE ASK THE BLOB

You rolled your eyes and laughed out loud. You felt a bit sorry for the poor man; sure, he'd been flirty and courteous in a couple occasions, but it was no big deal. You would always turn him down.

He arrived just in time to assist to Namjoon's great entrance in the workroom where you were currently finishing your miniature building. “Where's my little fox?” he asked from the door, a large, smug grin on his face.

You rolled your eyes at his impertinence, but could you blame him? Not really.

And he was carrying a lush deep purple orchid with him. “Hi, Joonie, come in!”

Namjoon smiled even brighter, fried chicken in one hand, orchid in the other. “Hi baby.” He willingly ignored Noah for a few minutes, kissing your forehead before looking at your project. “You're doing such a good job here, darling.” He bent and studied the miniature, “Wow.” He kissed your forehead again before officially noticing your colleague. “Oh, hi there.”

Noah stood, blinking in confusion once he realised he was half a head shorter than Namjoon. And maybe two thirds of his size. “I'm ____'s coworker, Lim Noah.”

“I'm Kim Namjoon, her fiancé.” Namjoon emanated all his friendly vibes with that statement, using his kindness as a weapon. Noah was no menace. Not with the way your hand was touching the top of Namjoon's ass, away from the assistant's glance. “But let's keep it between the three of us, uh?” Namjoon winked and Noah seemed to give up the fight entirely.

Your fiancé turned towards you. “One more orchid for your little collection. And dinner.” He placed everything on a spare desk. “Make sure to eat everything, mh? Be a good girl.”

You licked your lips and shook your head at the whispered comment, a smirk appearing on your face.

“There's a note on the flowers. You'll need it later.” Read it, he meant. “Can't wait to have you home.”

“I'll be there in a couple hours,” you reassured him.

As he watched your hands grab the note and open it, he spotted your ring finger. Empty?! “Honey, Where's the ring?”

While still reading the note, cheeks catching fire, you untucked a small necklace from your blouse, showing him your engagement ring safely latched there. “I dont want to ruin it when I'm building projects.”

He nodded curtly, reassured. “I'll go, then.”

Noah froze when you stretched your hand towards Namjoon, your man catching it and tugging you in his embrace before tipping your chin up and pressing his lips to yours, entirely forgetting about having an audience the moment you sucked his lower lip in between yours, his tongue greeting your own and envelopping around it, much like his arms around your body, making you squeal once his hand shamelessly, possessively grabbed your left ass-cheek and squeezed it.

You were breathless, way past cloud nine when he took a step back. “We're picking up from there later.”

You giggled like a schoolgirl before he lazily turned around with a hazy look on his face. “Bye Noah.”

You rubbed a hand across your face, oh so embarrassed. But also horny.

Was there a chance he would eat you out in the women's bathroom if you asked kindly enough? Maybe you were still in time to climb in his car and rub yourself all over his thigh once you reached your private parking lot in your building.

“He's very intense,” Noah commented, staring at the floor, his whole face and ears red.

“He is,” you confirmed with a smug grin.

Hope you won't be too tired when you get home, I wanna wear you out with my "big, sexy body". I love you, baby fox. Can't wait to have your taste all over my tongue.

You read the note again. “He really is.”

#kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon scenario #Namjoon drabble #namjoon x vixen #bts fanfiction blog #bts drabbles #Namjoon crack #Namjoon fluff #kim namjoon smut #thirst hours are open

146 notes · View notes

holdmecloser-gandydancer · 3 years

Note

44. “I’m not afraid.” w magnus :O?

Magnus sat in the stuffy waiting room, bouncing his leg restlessly, trying to free some nervous energy. It didn’t seem to be working. He tapped at arms of the chair he was sitting in. It felt like he’d been waiting for hours, thought the very patient tiefling receptionist assured him it had only been about ten minutes. He was just ready to get the interview done and over with.

Honestly, Magnus was surprised when the letter came a few weeks ago, inviting him for an interview. He’d worked as a general security officer for a while when mention of a new, exciting position was made at a meeting for all already involved at the Institute. Something enticing about journeying beyond our planes. Magnus was interested but uncertain if he really fit the bill for the two month mission. His moms had encouraged him to apply for one of the spots.

“The worst they could say is no, baby,” Ma Amada had said one night when they were all in the kitchen, prepping dinner.

“And if they do, then they’re fools,” Ma Arabella said, giving Magnus a cheeky wink and tasking him with setting the table.

So Magnus applied. He skimmed over where the listing said “Knowledge of Casting highly encouraged.” Surely enough other casters would apply, right? Besides, he thought to himself, it couldn’t hurt to try.

That’s precisely how he found himself on the top floor of the Institute, in itchy pants Ma Arabella insisted made him look handsome and professional, ready to start crawling up the walls just to do something.

“Burnsides?”

Magnus’s head whipped around. He was so caught up in thought that he didn’t even hear the door open. He stood up gave an awkward wave.

“Present!”

The gnomish man sent him a bemused look before waving him through the door. Magnus followed behind him and sat in one of the vacant chairs in front of the large oak desk.

“Do you want anything to drink? I have water but I could also procure some tea if that’s more your style.”

Magnus shook his head. “Just water is fine, sir.”

The other man let out a the barest huff of a laugh. “Son, please, you don’t have to call me sir. Davenport is fine.”

“Understood,” Magnus said, reaching for the cup of water Davenport handed him. He took a long sip, trying and failing to avoid spilling some on his nice green shirt. Silently, he cursed his stupid professional clothes. They were the best choice for the interview, he knew that, but they made him feel like some kind of caged animal.

He watched Davenport carefully as he inspected a small stack of papers in a folder. Magnus noticed his mustache twitch a few times; Davenport seemed to be amused by something in what he assumed was his file. He hoped that was a good sign.

“Forgive me, I’ve been at this all day so my brain is a little fried. So, you’re Magnus Burnsides. Human. Currently working as one of the Institute’s security officers, yes?” Davenport asked, finally looking back at Magnus.

Magnus nodded. “That’s right! I’ve been in that job for almost a year.”

“And you have no casting experience?”

“Nope.”

Davenport frowned. “You do know that the listing did say that we preferred casters, right?”

“I do. I also know that I’m still in this interview so there must be something you like about me,” Magnus said, not fully processing his own words as they flew out of his mouth. Rein it in a little, he thought to himself.

Davenport laughed a little. Good to know he seemed to have some sense of humor.

“You do have a point. Yeah, I gotta say, you intrigued me as an applicant. I have a ton of questions I have prepared but honestly? I’d prefer a more casual interview if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh man, I’d love that.” Magnus took another sip of water. He pulled at the collar of his shirt; it was a touch too tight and itched.

“So, tell me why you want to join the Institute’s Planar Exploration mission.”

“Well, I gotta be honest. It just sounds really fuc –“ Magnus caught himself. Not that casual of an interview, he thought. “Um. It sounds really cool. I’ve spent a lot of time looking up at the sky and the stars and stuff and the thought of actually getting to go up there? I mean, you’re the captain of this mission, right?”

Davenport nodded.

“Well, then you get it. There’s this idea that our lives could be meant for something bigger than us. I dig that.”

Magnus watched as Davenport wrote something down in his notes. He was writing for a while, actually. Magnus felt that nervous energy come back.

“I like your answer. Now, I do need you to be honest with me on this next question. What skills do you think that you can bring to this scientific expedition? Because while it’s true that what we’re doing is cool, this is still a research mission at the end of the day.”

“Okay, hear me out. I’ve thought about this a lot. I know you’re all going to be mostly casters and scientists and that’s cool. But uh, aren’t you worried that most of you are going to be pretty squishy?”

Davenport furrowed his brow. “Squishy? What do you mean?”

“Well, think about it. You don’t have any idea of what you might find out there. Could be something awesome, that’s what we’re hoping for. But it could be something that wants to attack, right? If everyone on the ship is busy with science, there’s gonna be no one who can protect the group.” Magnus crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders a bit. “I can be the one to do that.”

“Magnus, you do understand that we have one of the most talented evocation specialists coming on this mission, right? I believe she has us covered when it comes to defensive magic.”

“Sure, but I don’t need any spell slots to do what I do.”

Davenport blinked and nodded before pausing to write some things down.

“Okay. Okay. Fair point. Now, remind me, son, you’re 20?”

Magnus nodded. “Yup! Birthday was two months ago.”

“Right. Alright. Well, I have one last question for you. Obviously we don’t anticipate anything going wrong but we have to always plan for the worst-case scenario. You have the rest of your life ahead of you. Are you prepared to potentially…throw that away? I’m not trying to scare you but with a mission like this, we can never be certain of what we might face.”

For the first time the entire interview, Magnus sat and thought for a moment. He shook his head. “That’s a mighty big question. But I’m not afraid, sir. You’re right, I do have the rest of my life ahead of me. This would be one hell of a start to it, don’t you think?”

Davenport smiled and nodded. He set his pen down and stood up. “Well, this was a very illuminating interview. Thank you. I’ll be in touch very soon.”

“Wait! Can I ask you one question before we wrap this up?”

“Oh, of course. What is it?”

Magnus grinned. “Can I call you Cap’n’port?”

A rich belly-laugh fluttered out of Davenport’s mouth. “Knock yourself out, son.”

#taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #magnus burnsides #thank you for the prompt!!!#Me: oh shit i dunno where to take this particular combo #Me about to start homework: WAIT I GOT IT #tazb #reese writes #taz fic

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dreamingofaizawa · 4 years

Text

Leaving Him, Finding Her

Professor! Aizawa Shouta x Fem! Student! Reader

College AU

***18+ Fic***

If you are not 18 please make your way to the nearest exit, thank you and enjoy the rest of your day.

Warnings: smutty smut, HEAVY DADDY KINK, DD/LG dynamic, Daddy Dom Aizawa, complete sub reader, a temporary collar cuz I have a thing for collars (don’t come @ me, a real collar was too big a commitment to put in a forbidden hookup), praise kink in here, light oral (female receiving), bondage, shibari, unprotected sex, Aizawa being softer than a baby’s bottom, angst, fluff

Word count: 4.6 k

Author’s Note: Alright, ngl I cried writing the end to this cause I’m a little bitch when it comes to the softness after angst. Like, the only thing that makes me cry more than a sad ending is a happy one, and writing these scenes as they pley out is making me absolutely fucking weak. Also, my daddy and praise kinks are beaming, and so is my absolute love for aftercare. I’m lowkey super proud of this one, I’m a sucker for soft doms.

Update: I'm editing it. Timestamp: 3:23 am Fri, May 14. (Very minimal) Editing completed: 4:20 am Fri, May 14.

Enjoy the read~

He's beautiful. Ruggedly handsome in every way. Long, wavy, raven locks pulled into a slightly messy bun, revealing the scruff kept just barely tame on his strong jawline and chin. The dark circles under obsidian bloodshot eyes did nothing to steal from his allure. The scar under his eye and a frame too muscular for a simple college professor made you wonder what he’d done before lecturing in your physics class. It also had you wondering other things.

‘(y/l/n)’

What exactly did all that muscle look like? What did it feel like? Running your fingers down his neck and chest, trailing down his abdomen. Or crawling your hands up his legs, caressing his thick, muscled thighs. At night your thoughts ran rampant with images of your physics professor. A very naked professor, to be specific. And you had a title for him that you’d never want to reveal outside of your dorm bedroom.

‘Miss (y/l/n)’

What did he look like under the white dress shirt that was just slightly tight over his chest? And his pants that were fitted perfectly around his thick legs. You're experienced enough to know how submissive you are, and you wonder if he’d be a good dom, wonder if you could be a good enough sub for him. What did it feel like to have him bend you over his desk? Or tie you up as he ravaged your body? What did it feel like to let him have his way with you, to give him control…

“Miss (y/l/n)!”

You jump, immediately snapped back to reality, and recognize who had called your name. Your words came tumbling out without a second thought.

“Yes da-” you catch yourself, “Mr. Aizawa!... Yes, Mr. Aizawa?” Your face burned and your eyes shot wide at the fact that you’d nearly just called him the title from your fantasies. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice, and neither did any of your other classmates.

“If you aren’t paying attention perhaps the material is not challenging enough for you?” You swallow and shake your head.

“No, sir! I’m just a little tired, that’s all! I’ll be more attentive.” He raises an eyebrow at you, clearly unconvinced.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been distracted during class. See me during office hours.”

With that he continued with the lecture on centripetal force. You groan inwardly, though you only have yourself to blame.

Your grades hadn’t slipped, even if you were zoning out in class. Mr. Aizawa hit the nail on the head when he asked if the material wasn’t difficult enough for you. You’d studied physics before, it was simple for you, and you only needed to ask for notes from your classmates to be sure you did the work the way your professor wanted it to be done. The only reason you’d been enrolled in the class was because it was a requirement, and it was your last year so you had to take it. If it weren’t for your smoking hot professor you’d have hated every second you needed to sit in the lecture hall. He released the class, and you quickly packed up and left, not seeing the darkness in your professor’s eyes as he watched you leave.

It's dark by the time you still back onto campus, Mr. Aizawa’s office hours are strangely extremely late. There's no movement in the dark hallways, the only light coming from underneath Mr. Aizawa’s office door as you approach. The fact that the institution is large enough to give every teacher their own office is beginning to bother you, your overactive imagination getting the better of you.

After a breath, you knock lightly, answered by a muffled, 'Come in'. Another breath. You twist the handle and step into the office, and the man mumbles, 'Close the door behind you please'. You oblige, though your heart is beating out of your chest.

“You wanted to see me, professor?” He hums, eyes flicking up to you as he sets a red pen down on the desk.

“Yes, miss (y/l/n). You haven’t been paying attention in my lectures.” You look down at your hands clasped in front of you, nerves and shame beginning to eat at your resolve.

“I apologize, I’ve been tired lately,” you lie, sticking with your story from earlier.

“And yet you have one of the highest grades in the class.” You keep your eyes glued to your hands, which are now fidgeting nervously. The silence is beginning to nag at your mind, your nerves buzzing.

“I think you’re lying to me.” Your eyes widen momentarily, then you force a confused expression as you look up at your professor.

“I’m not sure what you mean…” He leans forward in his chair, his elbows holding his weight on his desk.

“I mean I think you’re distracted for other reasons. If you were struggling to sleep it would be evident. I’m a prime example,” he motions to his face. You bite the inside of your lip, your heart thumping loud in your ears.

“W-what other reasons would I be distracted?” He stands up and slowly makes his way around his desk, stopping mere inches in front of you. The close proximity has your breath shallowing and your heart pounding. You keep your eyes locked onto his, something akin to fear - no, maybe it's closer to obedience - not letting you look away. He narrows his eyes at you, a skeptical but knowing look.

“Don’t think I didn’t catch that little title you let slip in class earlier.” Your eyes blow wide, your breath hitching in your throat. He walked to the door, locked it and walked back to you, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“I d-don’t…” Your words fall short when he leans down, his breath hot on your ear and neck.

“Don’t lie. What was it you almost called me?” Your body shook, your breaths jagged, but you don't answer. At your silence, he nearly growled in your ear. His left arm snakes around your waist, pulling your body into his. His right hand comes up under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Answer me, kitten.” The commanding tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine. You take a small breath before closing your eyes and answering.

“D-daddy. I...almost called you daddy.” He hums, the sound rumbling through your body.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.” You obey nearly instantly, swallowing as you meet his gaze. He let out a small sigh, words ghosted from his lips.

“Good girl.” The praise makes your entire body shudder, and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Now, tell me why you would call your professor ‘daddy’ so automatically.” You felt your face burn, a mix of embarrassment and arousal coursing through your veins.

“I… I think about you… at night…” He tilts his head and quirks a brow, urging you to continue. Your voice is shaky, your eyes struggling to keep eye contact as you reveal your darkest secrets to the man at the center of them.

“I call you daddy when I’m alone in bed…”

“Or when you’re in the middle of a lecture.” You bite your bottom lip and nod as he finishes your sentence.

“Such a naughty little girl, aren’t you. What should you say when you do something wrong?” You swallow thickly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry.” His hand under your jaw turns and grips it hard, just enough to make you wince.

“I’m sorry, what?” Your eyes widen and your jaw quivers. Is he asking what you think he is?

“I-I’m sorry… Daddy." His grip on your jaw loosens as he turns your face to the side, leaning in and leaving a kiss under your ear.

“That's right. Such a good girl.” Your body shakes again, the feeling of his scruff on your cheek, his lips on your skin, and his voice in your ear, making your body react on its own.

“Do you have classes tomorrow, kitten?” You search your brain for the information he’s asking for, closing your eyes in concentration. After a few moments, you find the answer.

“N-no…” He pulls completely away from you, moving behind his desk and leaving you dazed. You watch, your body still recovering from whatever just happened, as he gathers his belongings. He holds the door open, turning to you.

“Come now kitten.” You blink at him, your mind trying to make sense of the situation. You follow him anyway, letting your body move on its own.

He’s a few steps ahead of you, and you follow him as he walks to his car, opening the passenger door. You get in, not quite able to question what’s happening, but trusting the man regardless. Soon the car pulls into a driveway, and you get out and follow the black haired man into the house, still dazed. His voice brings your attention to him, his hand under your chin again.

“Do you want this, kitten?” You nod.

“Use your voice, pretty girl.” God, hearing the praise is making your head spin.

“Yes. I want you Daddy.” His thumb strokes your cheek idly, grounding you in the moment.

“Good girl. Do you know what a safeword is?” You nod, the concept is more than familiar.

“Yes Daddy.”

“Do you have one?” Another nod.

“Gemini.” His hand lifts your chin gently as he leans down and slots his lips against yours. Your body relaxes, sinking into the kiss, focused on the sensations of his touch. His lips are soft, gentle, and his hands smooth down your back, landing on your hips.

He separates from you, looking down at your half-lidded eyes and blissed out state. You're already slipping into subspace. Your mind is floating, wanting to zero in on something. Anything. Your eyes aren’t quite focused, searching Aizawa’s face for a focal point. He recognizes that look. You need a platform to stand on, an anchor, and you need it desperately. He grabs your wrist and pulls you along behind him. He reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out a small, but sturdy, black fabric choker. A play collar. Moving behind you, he loops it around you and clasped it at the back of your neck. When it's secure, he quickly moves in front of you and loops his finger under the material, giving a gentle tug. You shudder and take a deep breath, your eyes fluttering closed. It was enough. He hums, stroking your cheek gently.

“Is that better kitty?” You open your eyes to look up into his, and he swears there are hearts shining in them.

“Yes. Thank you daddy.” He pulls you into another kiss, this one more passionate. When his tongue licked at your lips you let your mouth fall open, his tongue searching the wet cavern fervently. He pulls away and tugs your sweater up over your head, tossing it somewhere in the room, doing the same with your bra. With your top half bare he pushes you backward until your knees hit the bed and you fall onto it. He leans over you, leaving soft kisses along your collarbones as he removes your jeans and panties.

Completely naked, he lets his eyes rake over your form laid out in front of him. A small, elated sigh rolls from his lips.

“So pretty, kitten.” Your eyes flutter closed from the praise.

“Thank you Daddy.” Aizawa groans and leans down to kiss and lick at your neck, letting his hands smooth over your hips and legs.

“Such a good girl. So obedient for Daddy.” He feels your body shiver beneath his fingers from that bit of praise. Getting up off the bed he reaches into a different drawer, pulling out three bundles of rope. Turning back to you, he gives a command.

“Middle of the bed, kitten. On your back, arms up.” At the order, you move, getting into the position he specified.

He crawls over and begins to tie your wrists to the bar at the headboard, the rope secure, but not too tight to be uncomfortable. When he’s done with your wrists, he moves down to your legs. One by one, he lifts them and bends them at the knee, tying your ankle to your upper thigh, and spiraling the rope up to your knee, tying knots down one side and up the other in a beautiful leg tie. Finished with his task, he leans back to admire his work. You’re nearly purring. You know how much you love being restrained, and this man had made you into an artwork, laying out for his eyes, completely at his mercy. He can see the doe-eyes you're giving him, see how still you're being, how trusting you are of him to take care of you. And he loves it.

He moves between your legs, you automatically spread them to give him room, and he leans over, whispering against your lips.

“Such a good girl for me,” before giving you a soft kiss.

“Stay still for me, pretty thing.” He gets off the bed and swiftly undresses, returning to you. You sigh out, elated as your eyes trace down his toned body, drinking in the sight of thick corded muscle rippling under scarred skin. Your gaze lands on his already erect member, thick and long, a prominent vein running underneath. You’d imagined what he could look like, but reality far outshone your imagination. The sheer awe shone through in your voice.

“You’re beautiful.” His eyebrows raise slightly, surprised at your words. Leaning down, he kisses your neck sweetly.

“Thank you kitten. Now let me take care of you.” Back between your legs, he sits on his knees and kneads your breasts in his hands, pulling and tweaking your already hardened nipples, making you mewl. Your skin feels hot at his touch, your body relishing in the pleasure his fingers give you. He leans down and takes a bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking it before pulling off with a small pop and moving to the other, giving it the same treatment. Rough hands grope and knead down your body, giving appreciative squeezes at your hips, before smoothing his palms down your pelvis. He sits back on his heels and gazes at your glistening pussy, already dripping with arousal. Swiping a finger up your slit, he gathers the slick there and brings it up to his lips, sucking your juices off his finger with a groan.

“You taste so sweet kitty.” You respond with a mewl and another ‘thank you’. He takes his finger and slides it into your heat, and you sigh at the sensation as he pumps it slowly, before adding a second finger. The stretch is wonderful, and he begins to curl and scissor his fingers, searching. You let out a small moan and your back arches slightly off the bed when his fingers curl and hit that spongy spot inside you.

“There it is. Does that feel good kitty?” You nod, floating on bliss.

“Yes, Daddy, it feels good.” He hums and returns his attention back to the task at hand, increasing his pace as he pumps his fingers. His other hand comes up to your pelvis, and his mouth latches onto your clit. The stimulation has you gasping and squirming under his ministrations, and the hand on your pelvis holds you still.

He slips his fingers out and holds them to your lips, and you open your mouth to suck your essence off of them.

You can feel the coil in your belly tighten, winding up as Aizawa hits all the right spots inside you that has you softly moaning and straining against your bindings. Your wet walls are fluttering around his fingers, his tongue lashing at your puffy nub.

“I can feel you. Cum for me kitty.” He reattaches his mouth to your clit and sucks harshly, his fingers digging into that soft patch inside you, and your walls clamp down as you come apart, the muscles in your abdomen tensing and arching your back off the bed. Aizawa releases your clit, but keeps pumping his fingers, letting you ride out your high.

“Such a good girl, kitty.” He pulls your hips up onto his knees as he rubs his painfully hard cock up and down your core, gathering the slick on his shaft. You desperately want to feel him inside you, but you still yourself and hold back your begging mewls. Your resilience and need to be obedient and good for him makes Aizawa groan.

“I want to hear you, kitten. Every sound you need to make, I want to hear it.” He lines himself up with your slicked hole as you nod. With that he pushes his cock into you, and you mewl out at the delicious stretch he’s giving you. You’re both panting as he bottoms out inside you and holds still, allowing you to adjust to him.

“You’re so tight babygirl. Feels so good inside you.” He grips your hips and begins a slow pace, grinding into you, making you moan and squirm, but it’s not enough.

“Please Daddy, harder, please.” The near growl that escapes him has you reeling.

“Since you asked so nicely, kitten.” He pulls out almost completely before slamming into you and setting a brutal pace, and you’re moaning out loud, your voice a sinful melody in Aizawa’s ears. Your limbs are struggling against the restraints, tugging and flexing hard. Before you know it, that coil is tightening again, pulling taut in the pit of your stomach, searing white hot pleasure pooling like magma. Your walls are fluttering again, and Aizawa reaches down to rub tight circles onto your clit, urging you to come undone. He’s pounding into you with reckless abandon, and as you feel yourself coming to that edge his hips begin to stutter, making known he’s close too. He angles his hips and ruts into you, hitting your g-spot mercilessly, and you’re pushed off the edge, moaning loud, toes curling, cumming hard and clamping down on his cock. A few more strokes, and he pulls out as he’s cumming, covering your chest and belly in his hot, thick cum.

You’re both panting as you come down from your highs, exhausted and spent. After a few minutes, Aizawa gets up and disappears behind a door, returning with a damp washcloth. He cleans his cum off of you and tosses the cloth into a hamper, before beginning to untie your legs. Once they’re both free, he slowly pulls them out and massages them, relieving the slightly cramped muscles, and you’re sighing gratefully as the tension in your body is released. He does the same with your arms as you lay there, your body weak. When he’s done, he puts a palm on your cheek, and you nuzzle into his touch, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“How are you feeling kitty?” You let the tears fall, the intensity of the night beginning to take a toll on your mind. He pulls your body into him, cradling you as you cry quietly, letting you ride out the emotions.

He rocks you in his arms, rubbing soothing circles into your back and whispering praises into your ear, until your cries subside into small hiccups. He leans back and looks down at you, nuzzling into his chest.

“You okay, (y/n)?” You nod and take deep breaths, relaxing in his arms.

“I’m okay. Thank you.” He hums and lifts you off the bed, carrying you into the bathroom. He plugs the drain and turns the handle, letting the tub fill with warm water. As it fills, he holds you close and places soft kisses on your face and lips, showering you with affection. When the tub is full he turns off the tap and sinks down into the water, your back to his chest, and the warm water soothes your aching body. Aizawa grabs the soap and washes you, massaging you as he goes. He scrubs shampoo into your hair, fingers massaging into your scalp making you hum appreciatively. He washes himself, then drains the tub and turns on the shower head to rinse the both of you.

When you’re all rinsed, he steps out and dries himself with a towel, before helping you out and wrapping you with a fluffy towel of your own. Dried off, you leave the towel on the counter, and Aizawa scoops you up again and lays you down on the bed. He disappears again for a minute, and reappears with a glass of ice water, giving it to you to drink and climbing into bed.

When you finish sipping at the water, you leave it on the bedside table. Before you can move to get your clothes back on, Aizawa pulls you back into his chest, spooning you with his warm body.

“Sleep,” he grunts into your ear. You're too tired to argue, so you relax in his hold and let the blackness take over your mind.

You wake up in your professor’s arms. You turn to look at him, admiring his sleeping face. His voice startles you.

“It’s not very polite to stare.” Your face heats a little and you look away, suddenly shy.

“S-sorry.” He pulls you closer, nuzzling into your neck.

“It’s alright.” You sigh at the realization that this is going to end, that it has to end. You can’t share a bed with this man while you're his student, it could ruin both of you, moreso him. So you begin to move out of his arms, but he holds you tighter.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You sigh, a tired, sad sound.

“This can’t continue, Mr. - ”

“Shouta.” You blink.

“What?” He grunts, clearly unbothered.

“Call me Shouta.” You swallow down the lump in your throat.

“Shouta...this…can’t become a thing. You know that.” You can feel his breath on your neck as he sighs, and he releases you from his hold. Silently, you dress yourself. You dare to take a look back at him before you leave.

“Thank you, Shouta. I wish things were a little bit different.” He nods, whether in agreement or understanding you aren't sure.

“I’ll see you in class in a few days, (y/n).” You give a soft smile, and leave.

____

The few months before graduation were agonizing. Having to see Shouta three times a week drove you absolutely mad, and when you finally graduated you were almost happy that you didn’t have to see him again. But it was just as painful not seeing him. Your mind was riddled with the dark haired man for months after graduating. You’d lay awake at night wondering if you made the right choice, wondering if somehow you two could have met more often and kept the rendezvous a secret. Often you found yourself letting a few stray tears fall, wishing you’d been able to stay in bed with Shouta longer that morning. You were miserable. And you knew it was because even if the only intimacy you’d shared was the best sex you ever had, you had fallen madly, hilariously in love with your college physics professor.

____

Shouta stared up at his ceiling for what felt like the millionth time. His mind is on you. Always you. After you graduated, he knew he’d never see you again. And it killed him. Nearly 6 months had gone by, and he's still stuck on you, on your body. On your obedience. On your beautiful face sitting in his lecture hall. He’d seen you on the first day, and he was entranced by you nearly instantly. You were extremely smart, and he loved that. But he was a professional, a professor. Your professor. And you were his student. So he buried that attraction he felt and made sure to never let you see how much he wanted you. He only noticed you dazing off during class because he’d glance at you more often than he’d like to admit. He let it go, simply because your grades remained high. But that day he just happened to ask the class a question, and when nobody answered, he went to you because he knew how intelligent you were.

But when your words slipped from your mouth, something in him snapped. He knew there were very few explanations for you to use that title, all of them being you were thinking of someone using it. And by the near instant speed of your response, he could guess who was on your mind. That night was pure bliss. He loved every moment, and never regretted it. Even as you thanked him and walked out of his house, even knowing he may never get to spend another night with you, he didn’t regret anything. He let you walk away because that was the best thing to do. After you graduated, he could approach you again, and he’d get you back. But he couldn’t find you.

In the time since graduation he’d told his best friend and fellow professor Hizashi Yamada about the complex situation. Hizashi felt for him, knowing when Shouta fell, he fell hard, and the situation is a bad one. He was never judgemental, as he’d had his fair share of forbidden romances. The blonde would visit him in class often, bringing a fresh cup of coffee for his sulking friend. The loss was affecting him more than he liked to admit, and his sleeping habits were bad enough as it is. Hizashi’s visits were always welcome, and a nice distraction, even if they were short. But he was still hooked on you.

He's sick of feeling so defeated. He's tired of feeling so lovesick. He needs a distraction. He needs coffee. He got up and showered, and got ready to drive to the nearest cafe a mile down the road. As he stood in line to order his coffee, he let his eyes wander the cafe, drinking in the soft pastel colors on the walls. It reminds him of you. You’d always wear pastel sweaters. Once again, his mind drifted and landed on you.

And so did his eyes.

____

You had a day off work today. Deciding you didn’t want to sit around the house and sulk like you usually do, you took a shower, got dressed, grabbed your keys, wallet, phone, and a book to read, and headed to the cafe on the corner two blocks from your apartment. Sitting in the plush seat of the booth with your hot mocha latte, you cracked the book open and dove in. You got lost in the words on the pages, your mind living in the adventure written in black ink. You were ripped from your imagination when a deep voice interrupted you.

“Do you mind if I join you, kitten?” Your eyes froze on the page, jaw clenched, heart beating out of your chest. You tore your eyes from the book and looked up at none other than Shouta Aizawa.

You haven’t seen him in almost 6 months, and the man still plagued your thoughts. But the sheer joy you felt seeing him overtook you as tears fell from your eyes. Not even a moment later, you leapt from your seat and threw your arms around his shoulders. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you tight, afraid you’d slip from him again. You cry softly into his shoulder, letting yourself enjoy the moment with the man you know you love. You can’t help the words coming out of your mouth.

“I missed you so much, Shouta. I couldn’t stand not seeing you.” Somehow, he holds you tighter.

“I missed you too, kitten.” He reaches a hand up to pet your hair as he leans back, his dark eyes peering deep into your own.

“I’m here now. And you’re not my student anymore. So if you’d let me, I’d like to take you on a date.”

You freeze in place and look up at him, shocked at what you're hearing. You don’t know if he loves you the way you do him, but in this moment you know he has very real feelings for you. Like it's instinct, you lean in and kiss him passionately, letting your tears wash away the pain you felt ever since you left him that morning. When you broke away you were both breathless, and you nod your head frantically.

“I’d love to go on a date with you Shouta.” A genuine smile spreads across his face, a clear show of his happiness.

“Would you like to come back to my place?” You nod again, and grab your book and phone and follow him out to his car.

This time, you had no reason to leave.

This time, he had no reason to let you go.

This time, you’d stay.

#aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #professor aizawa #bnha college au #aizawa bnha #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Dreams, Chapter 17

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 17

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2203

Summary: Milwaukee’s finest African dream root gets put to the test.

Warnings: FLUFF, swearing; it’s so nice to finally take angst out of these warnings

You’re walking up the stairs from the bar basement with a six pack in your hand—it’s a raspberry beer from a microbrewery you’ve only had once in Pennsylvania, years ago. There’s no way you’d be able to stock it in northern Wisconsin, and ironically that makes you realize you’re in a dream faster than hearing Sam and Dean talking at the bar top.

“Look who decided to show up!” Dean smiles, ready affection spreading over his face like warm butter. He’s sitting on a stool like a patron, a few fingers of scotch in a glass in front of him where Sam stands behind the bar. You can feel yourself beaming as you cross over to them, setting the cold six pack out between you. It feels natural to slip into the space under Sam’s arm like you do so often here serving customers together but you stop short of it, instead grabbing one of the bottles and pivoting so it looks like you were trying to grab the bottle opener out of his back pocket all along. He raises his elbow to give you better access, letting you slip it back into the denim without touching him.

When you look up, Dean still has those gooey caramel eyes trained on you. “You look good, kid. What’re you drinking?”

“What’re you drinking, that’s all you have to ask?” you giggle, hopping up to sit on the bar. “No ‘how are you both here, what’s going on?’ none of that?” For your part you’re practically exploding with gratitude that Sam’s long shot worked.

“We’ve been waiting on you for a minute, Jolly Green Giant over here gave me the scoop. So what’re you drinking?”

You hand the bottle you’ve opened to Sam and grab another. “It’s a raspberry lambic from Pennsylvania. From what I remember, it might’ve been my favorite beer ever.”

Dean raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Well, come toast me with that Juicy Juice.” You and Sam both touch the lips of your bottles to his glass, and the smile on Sam’s face is as smooth and effortless as chiffon floating off a tropical cabana. “I got my brother, my girl, my car, and a few fingers of single-malt, this is perfect. To Sammy’s big ole brain and the beauty of dream root.” Something about that rings a bell in an even deeper part of your mind and you don’t take a sip right away until a vision of Dean flashes, holding two plastic trays piled high with burgers and fries. Dean winks as he finishes his glass. “Did you two get any better at pool since I’ve been gone?”

Playing pool with Sam and Dean in a bar—in your bar, with the dent in the paneling behind Dean where the table is a little too close to the wall—is as comfortable as if you’d never stopped, that there isn’t this giant hole not being acknowledged. Sam ribs Dean when he makes a shot his big brother missed and blocks fast when Dean tries to jab him in the ribs with a pool cue in retaliation, smiling through the horse play. You wipe a stealthy tear out of the corner of your eye and take another sip of lambic; you can’t think of anything more beautiful than watching the Winchesters goof off like this, are already starting to miss it as it happens in front of you, and then you feel stupid and wasteful for being so prematurely nostalgic that you can’t enjoy it. When you look back up having collected yourself, Sam floats a delicate hand to your back. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, just all kind of got to me for a second.”

His eyebrows twist in concern and he looks over to Dean, exchanging a look you can’t quite read and even that you’ve missed so much you have to hold your breath for a moment to keep it together. “Let’s, uh, let’s get out of here,” Sam suggests, laying his cue down on the felted table.

Dean nods almost imperceptibly before grinning wide. “Yeah, why don’t you knuckleheads show me the rest of this town?”

Sitting in the backseat of the Impala is just right for the mile or two it takes to get ‘downtown’—as far as those 7 businesses on a main street rural enough not to have curbs can be called a downtown—and when Dean opens the back door it’s with an outstretched hand for you to get out into the parking lot of the hardware store. “It’s not really going to be the same without all the people,” you offer, taking his callused fingers in yours and standing up.

“Babe, you have people in your dreams all the time.”

“Yeah, but not like real people, not like you or Sam.”

“You haven’t explained all this stuff to her yet?” Sam asks, incredulous over the top of the Impala as he walks around to you and Dean.

“We’ve been, uh, busy,” Dean says lasciviously, waggling his eyebrows and not reacting when you shove him in the chest.

“Dude, gross.” Sam’s little brother reflexes show themselves to be intact once again.

“That’s not what your girlfriend said last night.” It almost makes you panic with surprise, that blatant acknowledgement of the situation, but neither Dean nor Sam seem to pay it too much mind, already moving on to the next thought. You get the sense—as you always did—that they’re still able to communicate without speaking, but who knows? Their time together, Sam’s dreams, even the time that it took you to find them in this dream, is theirs. If they’re comfortable joking then maybe you should be also; you’re the one who gets to have your cake and eat it too. It conflicts with your current strategy of ignoring the deeper element to both your relationships, pretending like the present predicament is no different than before you started dating Dean, platonic and jocular all around. In any case you’ll be damned if you ruin the unbelievable joy of this moment by harping on awkwardness.

Sam rolls his eyes at Dean and turns to you. “It’s about how well you know people. Someone you know really well, your mind will be able to project what they would or wouldn’t do in a given situation or context. If you only know them sort of tangentially it’ll be harder for your mind to guess, so you might start to get like, repeat phrases or whatever. Think animatronics.” You probably look as confused as you feel and you can see the cogs of Sam’s mind turning rapidly to try to find another way to explain. “Okay, so take Diane, right? You know her enough that she might show up in a dream, but you probably don’t really know her motivations or mannerisms really well, personal history outside of those pictures of her grandkids she’s always showing? In a dream she’d probably only be there for a while, to get you from one thought to another, so if we go in right now and talk to her for hours and hours, she’ll probably start repeating stuff: sentences, facts, whatever.”

“Sounds a little Island of Misfit Toys to me,” you grimace, beginning to feel a little queasy.

“More like Westworld,” Sam suggests, opening the door. “This is, uh, the hardware store? Not really sure what you’re wanting to see, Dean.”

Dean is strolling down the center of the small shop, head ducking into each aisle like he’s looking for something specific but doesn’t know where it is. He picks up a package of Red Vines, opens it, and tears into one like a lion with a chunk of sinew before continuing his walk. There’s a degree of wonder in his eyes that you wouldn’t have expected; the hardware store is just like any other you’ve ever been in except smaller and with more of the bits and bobs that shops in little towns tend to have.

“Sweetie, would you like me to ring those up for you?” The voice comes from up ahead, behind the cash register where Diane has appeared. It sounds entirely kind and helpful but you know she’s gently chastising Dean for opening the package without paying. Sam can hear it too and smiles conspiratorially at you before walking to catch up with his brother, grabbing the candy out of his hands and tossing it on the counter to get out his wallet.

“I can get them.”

“Oh, Sam, I didn’t see you there! Look at you, Johnny on the spot. How’ve you been, honey?” She’s ostensibly ringing him up but her eyes are roaming all over Sam’s body hungrily, enough to make him blush.

“Uh, fine. Just hanging around, you know.”

Dean sidles up next to Sam and shoots out a hand to Diane. “I’m Dean, Sam’s brother.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Dean. Diane,” she answers, her handshake as warm and no-nonsense as she is, but she only takes her eyes off Sam for half a second to address him. It should be your first hint that something’s up when Dean seems smug at the almost-diss rather than annoyed. Sam finishes the transaction and presses the licorice flat into Dean’s chest as he turns back toward the two of you and the exit. You have to hustle a little to keep up with his long strides.

“Dude, come on, that’s hardly fair,” he says, low and trying for serious but there’s some playfulness in his tone.

“I just wanted to see what she was thinking,” he chuckles around a bite of licorice, following Sam down the road to one of the burger joints. “Lucky you.”

“Diane? Why do you care about the cashier at the hardware store?” you ask.

“Kid, I want to know everything about your lives. Hardware stores included.”

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother again and smiles, annoyed and maybe a touch shy. “You, uh, you don’t know Diane well enough to recreate her in your mind, but you know that she, uh, she knows me, right? So the way she acts toward me in your dream is the way you think people must act toward me in real life.”

You’re getting tired of feeling confused and out of the loop. Dean interjects, “If your projection of Gramma Goodwrench has the hots for Sammy, then you must think chicks are falling all over him.”

The heat rising in your cheeks makes you sheepish for a second before you realize the futility of it. Yet again, if Sam and Dean are willing to treat this like something to be joked about you can let them lead the way. “Whatever, you guys are a pain in my ass. Are we eating or what?”

You end up walking through town for a while, going into all the tiny nooks and crannies of the places you spend any amount of time in, decidedly trying to keep the boys from talking to anyone for too long. Dean takes it in like it’s fascinating, a 6 year old at Disney World for the first time, asking all kinds of questions and doing goofy things like trying out different stools, looking into every bathroom stall to really understand the full scope of it all. After a while he gets hungry but wants to go back to the cabin, so you grab groceries that would normally be impossible to find in the local grocery store—there’s a perk—and head home. Sam gives Dean directions to your house, which feels odd, like some kind of reverse deja vu.

You have an idea. Tapping Sam’s shoulder and leaning forward to put your head between the boys’, you think maybe it’s not something you want to do, that you don’t want to share Sam and Dean together again. But if Dean wants to see your life, they’re the closest relationships you have. “Do you, um, do you think I know the Kaisers well enough that you’re not going to be able to Vulcan mind control me or whatever?”

Sam looks over his shoulder back at you, curious and sweet as a gentle smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, I bet you do. What’re you thinking?”

“Maybe we could go to theirs for dinner? If it’s a—”

He reads your mind. “They’ll have something, you’re right. Dean, what do you think?”

“Guess who’s coming to dinner! It’s just past you guys?”

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 18

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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botanicials · 3 years

Text

wish this was the full part, but here is a sneak peak of falling in love at a coffee shop. the first few rough paragraphs. coming soon! littles will be posted until then ❣️

falling in love at a coffee shop

i. (sneak peak!)

October 13

The cold NYC wind is forgiving for once, all things considered. You had just spent your evening watching over seven sugar high eight-year-olds that had decided finger painting was the ideal after school activity. It was laborious at times and their parents probably weren’t too pleased, but the kids were happy.

Your phone is warm against your cheek as you walk, owing to the Disney Favorites playlist you were asked to play- and Eloise skipping nearly every song that wasn’t sung by Elsa or Moana. Your mother’s words are insistent in your ear: plane tickets, dinners, graduation details.

“It isn’t for another… what? Four months? We’ll figure it out.”

You hear your mother sigh. “I’d rather plan everything out now, the end of the year brings me enough stress as is.”

“It-“

“And what is it with your graduation ceremony being in January? Such an odd time. I mean, right after the holidays? Don’t they realize we might want a bit of a break?”

You laugh lightly at that, eyes spotting the familiar rusting sign hanging up ahead. “Um, has to do with my hours and the kids’ semester ending. I don’t know. Tickets should be cheaper, they usually are after Christmas.”

“Suppose that’s a positive.”

“Definitely a positive- I’ll call you later, I’m grabbing some food so I can hurry up and get home. There's an apron covered with paint in my bag and I’m convinced it’ll stain everything I have inside.”

You begin to unwrap your scarf from your neck as you near closer to the mahogany red door, turning to push it open with your side. “You put an apron covered in paint in your bag?” She sounds incredulous.

“It’s rolled, mom. I’ll call you later.” You repeat.

“Soon.” She says, and you hum before finally ending the call.

A gust of warm air hits the chilled skin of your face when you enter, along with the strong aroma of brewing coffee and a hint of vanilla. You move quickly to close the door behind you, not wanting to disturb anyone with the reality of what they’d have to endure once they leave.

“Welcome in.”

Your eyes follow over to the voice that called out, to catch him take a quick glance at you before turning to meet your eyes again.

He’s not much taller than the familiar college students that work here, but judging from his shoulders, his build is clearly much larger. Atop his wool baby blue sweater is a- definitely used -burgundy apron you’ve seen time and time again. Who you haven’t seen, however, is him.

Once his eyes flicker to the new customer in front of him and back to you, you realize that you’d completely ignored his greeting. And hadn’t moved from the door?

You find yourself sending a clumsy smile before moving across the hardwood floors to stand in line behind the short balding man repeating his order.

Your phone is in your hand a moment later, needing a distraction as to not ogle at the pretty green-eyed barista any longer. Your thumb instinctively lands on Instagram, as much as you wish it hadn’t.

A selfie of an old friend from high school.

A photo of someone’s newborn. The third you’d seen this month.

The conventional food flat lay.

You hear the man in front of you make a second order of two dozen bagels for a big meeting tomorrow morning. “Hoping for a promotion,” he says, a clear smile in his voice. You silently wish him the best. With bagels from Coldwell’s, he was bound to make a good impression.

You’ve been coming here since the beginning of your junior year, finding the cozy café to be a home away from home. You’d discovered it after moving out of your dorm, it was an unmistakable upgrade from the campus coffee shop you were forced to visit every morning.

Thick floor to ceiling windows on one wall, exposed brick and a menu on another; coupled with the bulbous string lights, numerous plants hanging from the ceiling and perched on shelves with the occasional vintage record.

There were unspoken sections inside; couches and low tables for group study sessions, a line of comfy booths along the back for brunches and dates, a few tables with mismatched wooden chairs for those who’d rather spend some time alone. It was always clean and well kept, and during Christmas, it smelled of nutmeg.

Depending on which barista had their phone connected to the speakers, the shop was either playing Spotify’s Chill Lofi Study Beats or smooth jazz, both welcomed by the regulars that filtered in day-to-day.

You hear the last drop of the bagel slicer when your phone buzzes faintly. Milo: We should go for breakfast one morning. When are you free? :) That message alone was enough for you to stuff your phone into your bag. Jesus Christ.

You watch the man’s scuffled loafers as he makes his way out, the arm free from two large boxes lifting to wish his barista a good night. Speaking of, he’s got a welcoming grin on his face when you step to the counter. There was no doubt he was recalling your odd entrance.

“Hello.”

His eyes are bright, they remind you of a dewy morning in a garden - and you wish you were in the right state of mind to watch him the way he was watching you. “Hi, um”, your eyes fly up to the menu as if you weren’t sure of exactly what you were getting. “Are you still selling those bottled fruit drinks? I usually get them in the morning.”

“The Pressed ones? Got a few in the back but I’ll grab one for you. What flavor?” You take a second to inwardly scold yourself for focusing too hard on the way he’d flavor, there was no second-guessing on whether he had an accent or not from moments ago.

“Blackberry,” you say, sending a small smile.

He taps at the screen of the POS, his lips tucked into his mouth as you reach into your bag for your wallet.

Not there. No. Not that pocket either.

You frown.

“So, a blackberry Pressed, anything else?”

Your head is nearly inside of your purse as you move your belongings around, cautious of smearing Crayola paint anywhere. “Please, a blueberry um...”, you flip the apron to stick out a bit and allow you more room to see, careful not to squeeze it too hard, “bagel?”

A beat of silence.

“You sure?”

Your head snaps back up to find the barista- Harry, his name tag reads, it suits him -smiling at you, teasing.

You laugh at yourself a bit before buttoning your bag closed. Your wallet was nowhere to be found; which would frighten you if you hadn’t already left it in the classroom twice this week. “Yes-. Yeah, sorry my brain is like, fried from studying.”

“No, yeah totally get it,” he says. Tot-ally.

You find yourself contemplating on whether you should tell him to completely scrap your order or give in and finally figure out how ApplePay works. He scratches at his chin. “Erm.. cream cheese?”

You have some at home. “No, thank you.”

He nods and you take a glance at the tiny hoop earring that catches in the overhead light as he does. You’re just about to resume digging in your bag to check one more time, when he surprises you by saying something that isn’t your total. “What are you majoring in?”

You readjust. “Education. I want to teach 3rd grade.”

“Do you?” His smile is wide and you notice the dimples that sink into his cheeks. Because of course, the guy has dimples.

His genuine happiness takes you by surprise and you laugh. “Yeah, I graduate this year. Well- hopefully. Still have to pass my finals.”

He’s still tapping at the POS- definitely taking much longer than normal, but you don’t mind. Thankfully you had nowhere to be for once.

“M’sure you’ll do great.” You smile, despite the fact that his eyes were still on the screen in front of him. “I um, I graduated just last year,” he looks up to see your eyebrows rise in question. “Film.”

“Film?” you repeat. “I.. Honestly, I can see that.” The earring, the eyes, his style. It made sense.

Tap. Tap. You catch the price going down.

“That because I’m working at a coffee shop?”

“That- What? No, no. I-“

He lets out a boyish giggle and shakes his head. “Only joking. That was a bit of a dig to us film majors, hm?”

“A little. It just makes sense,” you continue. “You look like a film major.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a compliment,” you say, and his lips twist to fight a smile.

“I’ll take it,” he says, slipping a glove onto his left hand. Your eyes immediately take notice of the cross etched next to his thumb. “Total comes out to $3.21. I’ll go grab your-“

“You didn’t have to do that.” You’ve ordered this countless times, and though Anne let you have your things for free when no one else was around, it’s always come out to $6.78.

Harry only frowns, shaking his head. Don’t worry about it. “I’ll go grab your drink.”

“Sure. Thank you.”

The second he disappeared into the kitchen you’ve seen so little of, you quickly lift your wrist to try and figure out how this stupid watch worked.

You told yourself to test this out at some point, but you just haven’t had the time. The pad of your figure taps and swipes against the tiny screen, nothing screaming pay with me!

Not that app.

Not that one either.

Had you even set it up?

You hear the door smack lightly against the wall. “Alright here’s- oh,” Harry stumbles upon return, eyebrows drawn together. “Did the card not work? There’s a chip at the bottom-“

“No, I was- I left my wallet at work and I’m trying to..” You point at the card reader. “Does this have Apple Pay?”

His eyes flicker between your watch and the reader before nodding. “Yeah, you’ve just got to..” he leans over the counter a bit and his hand hovers over yours. “May I?”

With confirmation, his nimble fingers press lightly into the inside of your wrist, tilting it toward the reader. His touch is soft- he’s excessively gentle despite only adjusting your hand. He moves his thumb to double click a button on the side of your device, the palm of his hand brushing the side of yours.

The both of you look up at one another, eyes meeting in much closer proximity than any time tonight.

You can’t possibly pick up a guy at a coffee shop. Right?

Ding!

You look down at your wrist that’s still in his hold, your tiny screen now displaying a successful checkmark.

He swiftly pulls his hand away, the gloved one quickly grabbing your bagel as the other grabbed a waxed baggie. “Sorry-“

“No, thank you.” You can’t help but let out a clumsy laugh at the moment the two of you just shared. Silly, you think to yourself.

“To go, yeah?”

“Please.”

He smiles, eyes focused on the screen before the printer hums to life and begins to spit out your receipt.

You watch as he works the bagel slicer and toaster without conscious thought, large hand pulling off his glove before taping the flimsy paper to the front of the bag. He’s sliding your items over to you to grab when you speak once more.

“And thank you again, for the discount.”

He only shakes his head, lips turning down into a funny looking frown. “Don’t worry about it, really. Good luck on finals.”

You smile gratefully, managing to hold your juice and bagel in one hand as you make your way back over to the door. “Thank you! Have a good night.”

“Bye, love you—“ He practically chokes on his own spit, turning quickly to cough steadily into the crook of his elbow.

You were halfway out of the door when you heard him, and now you stare, amused as the cold wind nips at the left side of your face. “Love me?”

“I-“ His nose crinkles, and he coughs one last time. “Sorry, I-“ You watch as he visibly relaxes once his focus is back on you and not on trying to breathe correctly.

Your head is tilted to the side, an obvious glint in your eye.

He lets out a breathy laugh before trying to continue. “I don’t-” Your eyebrows rise as he stumbles. “- love you. I just- I say it to friends a lot and I guess it… slipped? I don’t know-“

“I’m teasing.” You call out over the wind that blows through as you push the door open wider. You can’t help but laugh to yourself as you move to leave. “Don’t worry. Bye, Harry.”

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mommymooze · 3 years

Text

Dreaming of a Different Day

Reader, Fe3h Characters, Modern AU

Blood, gore, fighting, dead bodies, homework, sweating

7986 words

Working night shift at a gas station isn’t the most glorious job, but it helps pay the bills while you are trying to complete your degree at college. Determined to graduate without getting buried under an insurmountable amount of student debt, you work two jobs, sometimes three, even if it means taking 10 years to get a 4 year degree. Scoring a job in building maintenance for the college certainly helps with getting reduced fees on classes and books. Between two current jobs and classes or study time, there isn’t much time to sleep. Sometimes you volunteer your body as a lab rat for some of the studies done at the university, if you can work them in to your hectic schedule. This time they want to study your brain while you sleep. Getting paid to sleep? Sign me up!

Filling your 32oz. thermal bucket with coffee, you head out to catch a bus to campus. You have about an hour to study before you make it to the appointment at the psychology building.

An alarm sounds on your phone, time to pack up to make it to your appointment on time. Stashing your laptop and books into your backpack you head up the stairs to the third floor. Opening the door, you see a sleepy looking green haired student gathering forms together and stapling them into packets, placing them into manila folders.

“I’m here for the 8:00am appointment.” You announce.

He hands you a folder and a pen, telling you to fill out the paperwork and return them to him when complete.

You fill out the forms completely and honestly. Your sleep schedule is hell, you sleep when you can, mostly during daylight hours. You don’t recall any of your dreams or nightmares. No drinking or drugs. No sense in lying on these forms, they’ll find out if you’re trying to say something to please them or force yourself into their study group. Forms complete, you place them on the front desk as the young man nods.

Returning to your table you pull out your laptop and begin working on homework. You notice someone is standing in front of you.

A tall young woman with short blonde hair smiles at you, asking you to follow her. You grab your things, she leads you to a small room with a bed and several different machines, some on tables, some freestanding.

She tells you to change into a hospital gown, tie in the front because they need to attach some wires for monitoring. Most of the wires are attached to your head. She tells you the liquid they use to have it stick to your head is easily washed out of your hair. Once you are fully wired, she leaves and comes back with the fluffiest, warmest blanket you have ever felt and wraps it around you leading you to the bed. She asks if you want a sleep mask to block out the light and you do. The hum of the machines, the darkness and the fluffy warm blanket are enough to get you to fall asleep quite quickly.

A soft alarm goes off and you hear the voice of the green haired man asking you what you remember. You stay still, thinking. You recall walking down a corridor, speaking with other people. They are dressed differently. Maybe wearing a school uniform? You were carrying a book headed to…you can’t remember. It is strange, why suddenly have a dream here of all places? Taking the mask from your eyes you look to see him writing. He finishes his notes and leaves muttering a soft “Thank you.”

The wires are removed, you are told to change back into your regular clothes. They will message you if you will be chosen for further study. Handing you an envelope full of cash you head out the door, just in time to make it to your class.

Classes done for the day. You are mopping the floors of the student housing building 3. Yet another party to clean up after. Sure, you could notify the RA’s and make the other students do it, but they would make more mess and take too long. It is easier to simply clean it up yourself. Giving the floor a final mop, you shriek as someone steps behind you and taps on your shoulder.

“Hey, sorry we made so much mess for you.” A handsome male with dark hair, darker skin and brilliant green eyes smiles at you.

“No prob. No mess, no job, right?” You answer. They always show up when the work is about done.

“Can I interest you in some cake? We have some left.” He gestures with his hand open towards you.

“Nope. Smelled it too long cleaning it from floor vents.” You keep swiping the mop back and forth, then dunking it in your soapy bucket, squeezing it out and slapping it back on the floor.

Claude attempts to introduce himself. “Claude Riegan, Senior, Political Science.”

You answer in a monotone voice, “I am the janitor.“

“Hah.” He forces a laugh. “I’ve seen you in the halls here and there. You’re a student as well.”

You shrug, going to the closet to dump out your bucket. “Gotta run. Bldg 2 calls.”

He smiles and waves, you sort of wave back.

Work complete you head back to the smaller than an efficiency apartment you rent. Hotplate, and microwave for cooking, it has a half bath so you wash in a plastic tub. One small room for everything, no closets. Everything you own is in labeled tubs. No windows, but there is a door that locks.

You work on homework until your brain is fried. Collapsing on your bed you set an alarm, plug in your phone and laptop and sleep for a few hours before you have to get up for work tonight at the gas station.

Making it to class 5 minutes early you haul your bucket of coffee with a straw in it to your seat. Did you see that Claude guy in the halls? He likes yellow shirts. Both times you saw him in that color.

Today you listen to the lecture while looking around the room. Most of the time you take notes but you know this particular subject well. There’s a guy with light green hair and glasses to the right. Why does he look familiar? Have you seen him in a class before? You recognize the emo guy in front with a brown haired girl always huddled together. Oh no. The horrendous heartbreaker is here. Who doesn’t know about him? How many messes of his have you cleaned up because he’s dumped a girl and she resorted to violence and damaged school property? At least 100. You had no idea he was in your class. You lift up a book to block his direct view of your face. Perhaps you can remain nonexistent to him.

The professor ends the lesson. You note the work to be turned in, due date, assigned reading. Just as you’re about to finish tossing everything into your bag, you get a text. The psych guys want you for another sleep study. You tell them you can daytime sleep Tues or Thurs or Fri til 5. Great. They take all 3.

Cool. You may actually have some free cash for a few weeks. Maybe you can splurge on new shoes.

Monday night at the gas station is quiet. They usually are. Coffee keeps you coherent enough to make correct change and clean things properly. You have enough time to get home, clean up and hit the psy lab by 6am. They are to wake you 2 so you can make your class in plenty of time.

Mercie is the girl that wires you up to the machines. She hands you the sleep mask and fluffy blanket. It doesn’t take you long to go to sleep having come off your caffeine high a couple hours ago.

The alarm goes off and you bolt upright to a seated position in the bed, gasping for breath.

“Tell me quickly.” The green haired man encourages you to speak.

“I was fighting for my life. There was a battle. It was primitive. There were swords and long spears and huge axes with blades bigger than your head. A woman had fire coming from her fingers killing a man. I could smell his flesh burning. I stabbed bad people with my spear. I had to help my friends. We were fighting…um…a gang? thieves? They were hurting people nearby. My friend was hit by a spear and I killed the guy that hit him. Then I was…touching my friend’s stab wound. Light came from my fingers and I watched the hole in his side close up.” You sat there, staring at your hands. They were your hands but no longer covered in blood. You were grimacing as hard as you were in the dream, concentrating on your hands. But they did not glow.

“What else? What about the land?” His disinterested voice demands more.

“It was in a wild undeveloped area. No buildings. Just trees and rocks and bushes. We were fighting our way up a hill. Some of us going up one side, some going the other. I could hear them fighting on the other side of the hill. We were going to meet at the top. I couldn’t wait to see the leader, I kept looking for her blue hair. I knew she was the best fighter ever and would do everything to keep us safe.”

“Anything else?” His last follow up question.

“It’s faded a lot now. So much blood everywhere. The smells, they were awful. Metal banging on metal was so loud.”

He stands and stretches. “Thank you.” He says as he closes the door behind him.

You get dressed and grab your stuff heading for your afternoon class. Why are you suddenly dreaming? You don’t remember dreaming much before since you were a kid. This was a nightmare. You didn’t drink anything. You had slept over 7 hours, that’s the longest you’ve slept in…months? If the nightmares keep up, you’re not sure this is worth the extra cash.

After class you head home. You don’t feel as exhausted as you normally do, so you work ahead on a class or two. Most of the time homework can be done while you’re at the gas station counter.

Class in the morning is boring. Only a few more weeks to suffer before you get a break. Heading home you lay in your bed. You want to sleep. You really, really do. But now you’re afraid if you close your eyes, will the dreams continue? You grab your accounting book and start reading. You wake up with your alarm going off so you can get ready to head to work tonight. You do not dream, not even a about spreadsheets.

Work is uneventful. Mostly the same people coming in to buy the same things. Taking deliveries of different foods and replacing the purchased items on the shelves. Completing homework as time allows. Finally, it is time to clock out as the next shift comes in to deal with the daytime crowd.

You hit the bus, get to your room, swap out what you don’t need with what you do, toss your backpack on and head out to the Psych lab. You’re wired up and under the blanket. You feel a bit anxious about sleeping, however it is totally dark and the humming of the machines soon overtakes your thoughts and you fall asleep.

You awaken to hear the same guy as before asking you to talk.

Not opening your eyes you go through what happened.” There was a battle but not a real battle. Everyone is fighting but you aren’t really trying to kill each other. The weapons are fake. The magic is real but not seriously real. It reminds me of watching football practice. Each team wore their colors and are trying to beat up the others. The yellow team wins and everyone goes to a party. The blue haired leader lady said I had done a great job. She asks me to have tea and wants to talk about joining her house. Is she leading a fraternity? I woke up as I was helping clean up the mess after the party.”

“Tell me where this happened.” He asks.

“Well, the battle was on a big open field. There was a hill that someone could pull a lever and fire stuff at others. Scattered clumps of trees here and there, where some people would hide. It was a long walk to get to the field there. When walking I spoke with a grayish haired guy that would talk about stories he read about knights and do gooders. Oh, and on a big hill were three people with bright green hair. A man, woman and a younger shorter girl. They were watching. But they did not go to the party after. The party was in the dining area back at the school.”

You’re dressed, your hair feels sticky, so you put on a baseball cap with the university logo on it and head to your janitorial job. Mind numbing floor sweeping, mopping, and emptying trashcans fills your night. You are glad you had a good sleep at the psych lab, because it’s a short night tonight after getting off at 3am and having a class again at 8am the next day, you make it, like any other college student.

Grabbing something awful to eat after class, you head back to the third floor in the psych building for the last sleep of this week.

You wake up completely and totally freaked out. What a nightmare. Walking forever in the rain until you are soaked through, your skin all cold and wrinkly, and now you go into the creepy tower with the rest of the Blue Lions. You’re on the blue team. An older woman is the teacher, you wish you had the blue haired lady, she was so awesome.

Everyone creeps around and around going up higher in the tower while bad guys are firing arrows and popping out of hidden spaces. You remember using magic. You concentrated and this circle with marks on it appeared in your vision and next thing you know you shot lightning out of your fingers at a monster. A horrifying monster. It used to be a mean ugly guy but he changed and got big and evil looking, like a T-rex heavy on the claws and teeth. Everyone is fighting for their lives.

The worse part is one of them was his brother and had to get something back for his family. There was so much blood. Everyone was freaked out, especially the guy that killed his brother. It was horrible. By the time you finished talking to Linny, you were shaking and holding yourself. He just kept saying it was only a dream and told you that you would be fine.

You head to classes trying to best to concentrate.

Normally the job of polishing floors is nice. The machine does all of the work, you just change out the heads to clean then polish. The hallways here lead to rooms that have been reset for a large Art show presenting the student’s works. Many of the students are in your way, hauling in stands and setting up displays of their work. You keep looking down, studying the polishing machine. You can’t look at most of the artwork it, reminds you of the monsters you’ve dreamed of, or swords, or there is blood everywhere. What happened to fields of flowers? Paint a bowl of fruit or something bland.

You clock out at 3 am, head back to your room and crash burying yourself under a ton of blankets. One class today then you don’t have to be back to the university until 6pm. You need to hide in your bed. You are mentally exhausted. You need to sleep, so you down some cold medicine and it knocks you out.

Sleep is not kind. You aren’t in the lab, you are in the safety of your own bed. The dreams, okay, nightmares continue. Some girl is missing. Everyone is trying to find her. The Blue Lions leave to find some item and fight monsters, when you come back they found her, some other gal that was missing, and a creepy skeleton looking guy on a horse fought them in the basement. Ugh. You remember that head someone had on a stand in the art class, with the red glowing eyes. At least before you woke up you remember having tea with the blue haired professor and you agreed to join her group. She also gives you nice flowers for your birthday. You wake up just after tea was over.

You’ve never dreamed before. What the hell. You aren’t getting paid to dream at home. You don’t want this. What can of worms have they opened on you? You want your regular dreamless close your eyes, sleep, open them and go again. Not running miles and chasing horrible things and stabbing stuff and getting hurt and bleeding.

After class this morning the library is your destination today. Gotta get some references and info for a class. You stop by a quicky mart on the way. Need coffee. You’re not one of those fancy coffee kids, just creamer and go. You could care less what mountain they grew the coffee on as long as it is caffeine and keeping you awake.

Filling your cup with the elixir of consciousness, you see a girl with purple hair having problems with the whipped cream function of the expensive coffee and creamer dispenser.

You walk up to her. “Hey Bernie, want me to help?”

“Sure.” The girl says still punching buttons.

You fiddle with the machine knowing how temperamental they can be and get plenty of whip cream on top of her coffee.

She looks at me to say thank you, drops her books and screams. “Who are you? I don’t even know you!”

You shove a lid on her cup and put it in her hands. “Take your coffee.” Picking up her books, you stuff them in her arms. You head for the checkout. Your brain is confused too. You don’t know her, but she’s in the dreams and it’s her, Bernadetta.

Heading to the library you pull out your laptop and begin working on a project for class. You keep your head down, concentrate you keep telling yourself, but pieces of the dreams creep up on you every time you try to focus. Writing a few sentences, you click on an arrow on your laptop screen. You remember Bernie shooting arrows and she’s an amazing archer along with Ignatz. They love to paint. You wonder what it would look like if they did something together.

Concentrate. Fingers on the keyboard. The page is filling with text, the project is coming along. You need to find another book for reference. Signing into the library website you search for its location. You find the book and take it back to your seat. Flipping through it you find the section you want. Inside there is a postit note:

“Don’t bother with this. It’s wrong. See…” It lists a book you passed on, thinking this would be better. Perhaps the mysterious postit writer has been through this class and is saving everyone else from the same headaches. Nice. You get up and trade out books. This one does have exactly what you are looking for and your project speeds forward. You flip through the book once you’re finished with its contents and surprise! Another postit. “Bonus: Check out…”

You are enraptured, of course you go to find the next book. It is even better than the last one. The section related to your task has a note. “BTW, don’t quote that last book, Prof hates it. Do this instead. The curious get the rewards!” OMG. This is the greatest stuff. But the game is over, no more notes, you even check behind the last one. It did keep you entertained and focused though, a great help or you may have never finished this.

Saving everything and backing it up onto the cloud you have enough time to toss your stuff into the employee lockers and get your janitorial getup on. Baseball cap and earbuds in, it’s time for 8 hours of cleaning up after everyone else.

Building 3 is the party hub of the campus. At least they cleaned up some of the party decor, floor vents contain no cake, but they still leave a mess. You have to wash down the walls.

About 1:30am a dark haired guy with a ponytail comes in all frazzled asking if I’ve seen a red headed guy passed out somewhere. Nope. We both check the balcony and there he is out on a plastic chair. It is heartbreaker Sylvain.

You ask for help picking him up to get him to a standing position. You tell his buddy to hold him still. Throwing your right shoulder into his crotch you grab his left arm and throw it over your opposite shoulder. Sylvain is now up over your shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

His buddy gets the door and elevator for you. When the door opens there is a wheelchair close by and you dump Sylvain into it.

“How’d you know how to do that?” His friend asks.

“I’ve carried him before.” You answer as you help wheel Sylvain to the car. You help pour him into the front seat and reach over the seatbelt to his friend.

“Good luck. He’s your problem now.” You mutter as you turn around and head back to work.

At least this time he wasn’t bleeding you think. Wait. You’ve carried Sylvain before, during a fight. To get him to safety. That was Felix who came to get him. When you carried him, you were in leather gear and had more muscles. It reminds you of highschool wrestling. You did that for a few years. It felt so right doing that, but this college doesn’t have women’s wrestling, so you left it behind. It was how you got the job in janitorial because you are a female that can lift and move heavy weights, doing it the right way and not getting hurt.

Finishing your shift it is early Sunday morning. You go home, sleep, and dream.

You’re playing chess with Hubert. You’re beating him and he is pissed. He threatens you with cheating, distracting him, etc. You laugh at him. He’s always threatening someone or something.

Byleth comes in and ends the game. You head to a war meeting with the rest of the Black Eagles Strike force. Now that Byleth has returned Edelgard wants to recapture the great bridge at Myrddin.

After the meeting you head out to the training area for magic users. Warming up with a few Thunder spells, you work through Thoron then Bolting. The magic flowing through you feels amazing, you are one with the forces of nature.

You can feel the cold flowing from your fingertips as you cast blizzard at a target. Casting Fimbulvetr you watch as a solid ice grows around and surrounds the target.

Taking a few cleansing breaths, you then cast sagittae, the arrows breaking chunks of ice off of the target. Agnea’s Arrow finally strikes the ice, causing bright flames releasing steam into the area. The ice and target are obliterated.

You feel a good exhaustion come over you. Practice complete, you head to your quarters to complete additional research for some spells you have been working on.

The next moment you are on the bridge, fighting Alliance fighters and a few former classmates. Byleth has you stationed further away from the students, your goal is to take out a number of heavily armored ground troops and clear the way to Judith, leader of the enemy forces. Your fingers spark with electricity as your favorite spells are prepared. You remind yourself to keep your jubilant shrieks to yourself, in the last battle Hubert chastised you for frightening Bernadetta.

You wake up in your bed. This time you are not revulsed by the fighting. It felt thrilling. That scares you more than when you were upset and afraid. Things are so different in this dream. Byleth is a woman. But you’ve seen them before as a man. You know Edelgard was your enemy before, but this time you practically worship the ground she walks on. You remembered the singular focus you had in the dream. Nothing to distract you from your goal. You would forgo sleep, train well into the night.

Why were you playing chess with Hubert? Oh. He had tricked you, saying that chess is training of the mind to think more strategically. You thought he was trying to keep you out of the training grounds for a while. He’s always playing mother hen over everyone, sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong.

Sitting up in your bed you shake your head. That was not part of the dream. It felt more like a memory. Are these dreams making you delusional now? You would like to get off this mental merry-go-round.

The next two weeks are filled with working nights, classes or sleeping during the day. Your bank account is getting fat. Your brain is not doing so well. Things from your dreams hit you during the day. Stopping at the cafeteria of the college, you look down at your tray of obviously poor choices. Mercedes voice is in your ear, suggesting that you eat more vegetables. You swear you can hear Manuela tell you to put the pie back on the shelf and get brussels sprouts, dark greens are much healthier for you.

You wear hoodies to class now that the weather is getting a bit colder. Tying the hood around your face to block your peripheral vision helps you concentrate on where you are going. Otherwise you feel like you recognize so many people.

Yesterday, while in the cafeteria you ate your oatmeal with extra raisins and apples, less sugar, thank you Marianne, when you heard a male voice over the rest of the throng. You knew it was Ferdinand. He was being boastful and incredibly proud of his stance on the subject, as a noble should be. It had to be him. Gulping down your food you grab your carton of 2% milk and head out the door to take the long way around to class.

Being a lab rat for the psy group seems to be getting easier. It is like you slip into an alternate universe in the past. Everyone there has the right names and faces, while here in the future, most of them don’t know themselves as you do.

Linny gets lazy about writing down everything. He simply records everything on a laptop and someone else can transcribe it. He sits in his chair, folds his arms and drifts off to sleep to the sound of your voice telling of your dreams.

It is getting harder to keep your accounts of what happens in the dreams simple. You know everyone’s names, the weapons, the enemies, the spells. You feel the need to translate them into something that relates to modern equivalents. You are also trying to be careful about revealing just how deep you are into these…are they just dreams? Memories? Recollections?

Finishing your recitation of the dream, Linhardt is asleep again. Linny!! It’s Linny now. You poke him in the ribs where you know he is ticklish, he quickly wakes and demands that you stop. You ask him to unhook the wires so you can head out. Taking your envelope, you head out to the ATM, deposit the cash then get ready for work.

Noting the amount of posters on the walls for the party in Student housing building 3, Claude is going to have a huge mess for you to clean up. Finishing work on the admin building you head over to whatever disaster awaits you after the party.

The common area and meeting room used for the event are not the worst you have seen. They even bagged up most of their trash. Hauling in a huge plastic dumpster on wheels, you load up the bags to make room to maneuver. Wiping down the tables and chairs you stack and move them to make mopping easier.

“Hey, hope things are better this time, Janitor.” Claude announces as he walks into the room.

“It’s nice. Thanks.” You mumble, surprised that he is here.

“I know we left a huge mess before, so I put Hilda in charge of cleanup.” He has that smirky grin on his face. It’s funny how some things never change. He’s still handsome too.

“I bet she was pissed that you’re making her work.” You say without thinking.

“She was.” Claude nods. “You know her?”

“I..uh..know some people in common.” You answer, wiping a table harder. Claude has always been intensely curious and you are now on his radar. Great.

“You look familiar. I can’t recall where I know you from.” Claude’s voice trails off as he puts his hand to his chin and thinks.

“I have pretty common looks. One head, two eyes with bags under them from lack of sleep. Same as most students.”

Claude sits cross-legged on one of the not too dirty tables, making himself at home. He is staring at you, his chin resting on his fist.

You finish the tables and chairs, except for the table that is occupied and sweep the largest chunks from the floor.

“Please tell me you are not majoring in sanitation or building maintenance.” Claude finally speaks.

“I thought you fell asleep.” You shake the broom onto the building pile of crumbs and debris. You answer him, “No.”

“Too simply dressed to be arts. Rocket scientist?” Claude asks, raising an eyebrow. “You hang out in the science and mathematics buildings.”

“Allergic to RP-1.” You answer, sweeping the crud into a dustpan and heading to the janitorial closet for a mop and bucket. As you emerge with your tools, Claude is in the hallway waiting for you.

“Thank you for an engrossing and in depth conversation.” He yawns and stretches his arms. “Next time don’t talk my ear off.”

Giving a happy sigh of relief you finish cleaning and reassembling the room into its standard configuration. Finishing for the night you grab a shower and head home for a nap and a homework filled day.

Sunday night at the gas station starts off with the normal routine. Delivery trucks unloading overpriced snacks, little old ladies holding up the line while they dig out exact change from their purse, kids dumping sodas on the floor. Past midnight the customers are few and far between. The door sounds and you look up from your bookwork. Some guy with messy red hair starts to come in, turns around and yells at whoever is in the car parked outside in the handicapped spot.

He turns around and faces you. First, you see the gun in his hands. Second, you look at his face and see Miklan.

“Hands up, Bitch. Listen or you are fucking dead.” He snarls, waving the gun.

You put your hands in the air alongside your head. A gunshot rings out, you hear the bullet hit the wall behind you, just over your head.

Miklan snickers, “Yup, loaded. Open the fucking cash register then get back.” He orders.

You open the till then push your back into the cigarettes displayed behind you. He climbs on the counter, reaching in the drawer, looking to grab the cash, but still pointing the gun at you. You keep your hands up, moving them in familiar positions as you softly mouth the words.

An incredibly bright flash of light goes off in front of you combined with a near deafening boom. Miklan’s body flies in the air, landing on his back on the floor. The entire store goes dark. The car outside flashes its lights, then backs up, crashing into a gas pump and speeds off.

You grab your cell phone out of your bag, thrilled when the screen lights up. Calling 911, they say they are on the way. In minutes police, a fire truck and ambulance arrive. They let you grab your belongings and take you outside away from the building under a nearby streetlight. You see camera flashes coming from the building as the ambulance hauls a stretcher inside. An officer speaks with you for a while, telling you to relax and saying a lot of nothing. They frequently ask if you are okay. Your voice shakes and you are visibly trembling from the experience.

After almost an hour they make you lock up the building (minus one Miklan) and take you to the station for questioning. You call your employer while riding in the car. They will handle the store, they are happy you are alive. Take off the rest of the week with full pay.

At the police station you tell them what happened. He came in, shot the gun, you opened the drawer and while he was taking the money something electrical must have happened because there was an electric flash and the whole building went dark. You try to describe the car that was parked outside. You never got a look at the driver.

The police thank you for your cooperation, giving you a cup of coffee, a Danish, and a ride home. You head up the stairs to your apartment and unlock the door. Turning on the light you notice an unmarked envelope on the floor. Nervously you open it. Inside is a slip of paper that says:

“We need to talk. -B.”

You fall onto your bed. You know the handwriting. Its them. Byleth is here, now. There is nothing else on the paper. No phone number. You have no idea what to do next. The only thing you can think of doing is wait. Since it is 3am, you may as well try to sleep. For seeing a dead body for the first time in this life, you are more relaxed about it than you feel you should be.

You wake up to your phone announcing a text message. You sit up and see you have 3 unread messages from an unknown number. You take a deep breath.

[8:00] Hey

[8:05] Wake up

[8:07] Wakey, wakey

I’m up. [8:07]

[8:08] Blue Prius outside, get in and take a ride

Every alarm in your head is going off telling you that this is a bad idea.

Give me a couple minutes to get ready. [8:08]

Stepping outside there is the Prius. As you arrive you open the door to see a huge man hunched over the wheel. He is so large part of him is in your seat. You close the door as you wonder how he got into the car in the first place. You move his elbow away to put on your seatbelt.

“Heya pal.” He says.

“Balthus?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“The one and only.” He smirks and hits the gas so hard you fly back in your seat.

He takes you downtown. You are glued to the seast, white knuckled, hanging on to the door handle as he drives like a maniac. You can’t say anything because your heart is in your throat. He suddenly stops in front of a large, unmarked brick building with a 16 above the door.

“Go on ahead, it’s going to take me a while to get out of here. Elevator is through the doors, fourth floor.” Balthus grunts as he opens the door and begins to unfold himself to get out of the tiny car.

As you step up to the door you hear it unlock. Going inside there is no doorman, no security, simply a hallway that leads to the elevator. Punching the up button, you wait. Checking your phone there are no new texts. The doors open and you go inside, hitting the 4thfloor button. You are shaking with excitement, nervousness, dread and who knows what else. As the doors open, they reveal an elegant and very tasteful office setting. Behind a high counter you can’t recognize the person sitting there until they stand up and smile widely at you, holding out his hand.

“Hi. Just call me Gavin. I’m sure you know me as-“

“Gatekeeper!” You gasp and laugh, shaking his hand warmly.

He hits a button on the desk and a voice on the intercom responds, “Okay.”

The door on the other side of the room clicks and opens.

“You can head on in now.” Gavin gestures to the slightly open door.

You walk to the other side of the reception desk and the door is open to a richly wood paneled hallway. The door on the other end of this hall opens as you approach. You pull the door the rest of the way open, stepping in to see Byleth sitting in a large comfortable office chair and Yuri partially seated on the top of the desk on the opposite side.

“Welcome to the fold.” Yuri holds his arms out wide.

You rush over to give him a huge hug, like you would any dear friend. Because he was? Is? You’re not sure, but you hug him anyway.

“I’m sure you have many questions.” Byleth folds his hands on his desk and looks at you, waiting for your response.

“I don’t get a hug?” You ask, holding your arms out.

Byleth stands and steps around the desk and hugs you, then looks down at you. “I apologize. I am not certain what you know and what you remember.”

“A lot. This is going to take a while.” You answer. “Can we drop the formal setting and sit somewhere comfy? With you behind the desk it’s like we’re back in school.”

“I’ll get us some coffee.” Yuri offers. “Cream only, right?”

“Yup.” You chime as Byleth leads you to an overstuffed corner couch in front of large windows that offer a great view of the city. You take a seat at one end and take your coffee, placing it on the end table next to you. Yuri and Byleth sit beside each other on the other end.

“So you two are together this time?” You ask.

“Yeah.” Yuri smiles as he takes Byleth’s hand in his own.

“Awesome. My favorite.” You nod.

“Just how much do you remember?” Yuri asks, tilting his head.

“I remember fighting alongside each of the houses. If I was not in the house when Byleth led them, they recruited me. Byleth was a male once, a female twice. Three times altogether.” You begin, then frown. “Strange. None of them are like the history books.

Yuri and Byleth look at each other for what seemed like a long time. Yuri bends over and hits a button on the telephone on the table.

“Gavin, order lunch to be brought in and make reservations for dinner. Cancel any remaining appointments for today. Thanks”

“Okay. Start from the beginning. Let’s say Blue Lions. What is your first memory with them?”

“I was staying at an inn, Remire Village. I just made it to the dining area and was stuffing my face full of food when Jeralt comes in all pissed off because these kids show up and they’re in trouble.” You begin. They let you keep talking. Yuri tents his fingers at times, mostly sits back sipping his coffee.

Byleth is spellbound as you begin. He stares into your face like he is reliving your memories with you. Well, they did live them with you. They were your best friend.

You tell them of the battle with Miklan, finding Flayn, Remire, the fall of Jeralt, the defeat of Solon, the battle of Garreg Mach, the five years of being without Byleth, reuniting for the Millennium festival, Dimitri’s madness, the battle at the bridge and Dedue’s return, the nightmare that was Gronder, Merceus and Enbarr.

You then go silent. You look at Yuri and Byleth. You grimace for a moment.

“BylethmarriedDimitri.” You cough into your hand. “I don’t remember much after that.”

Byleth sits back on the couch. “Fascinating.”

“You never told me that-“ Yuri begins to say until Byleth gives him a look that obviously says now is not the time for this.

A beep sounds from the telephone.

“Time for lunch.” Byleth says as he stands up.

You leave through a different door and are led to a dining room. The food smells delicious.

Over lunch you begin your questioning. “Okay, so was this all real? I know you merged with Sothis and everything, convenient to leave that out of the history books, but this actually happened? It’s not just dreams. I began to remember while dreaming, then it moved on to remembering while I was awake. The memories flooded my brain like a tidal wave.”

“Yes. It was real. It did happen. Several times.” Byleth answers you without hesitation.

“You kept reliving that part of your life over and over until you arrived at the best solution? That is fucking amazing. Hawking would've loved it.” You shake your head in near disbelief. “You were the archbishop, but the church isn’t around any more. I guess you just let that go away on its own. What are you doing now?”

Yuri comments about how well the meat is spiced and that they should order this dish again. You interpret this as new subject time.

“There was no mention of dragons or Agarthans in the history books. Did that happen?” You ask quietly.

Byleth nods, “Yes. It did. It was a fantastic combined effort to take them down. We agreed it was best left unwritten.”

The food is quite delicious. You try to think of more pleasant things to talk or ask about, your head spinning with this revelation before you.

“Who else remembers?”

“Just you.” Yuri answers.

“You gotta be shitting me.” Your jaw drops nearly to the table.

“Only you.” Byleth nods.

“Is anyone else supposed to remember?” You’re happy about these two, but you also hoped to speak to a few others. Reminisce about old times? Something like that.

Yuri explains, “Well, in the past we tried a few times, reincarnation is a thing actually. Most of you appear close to the same time. We had tried different ways of bringing through their memories. The problem was that when some remembered they mentally crashed. Now with counseling and medications being as advanced as they are we thought we would try again.”

“So then I volunteer to be a lab rat and something clicked…” Your voice drifts off as you recall the early dreams. .

Yuri continues, “When we read the reports of your dreams we were very excited. What we weren’t’ prepared for is how quickly it awoke the memories in you. We had no idea how you would respond.”

“You are a secretive creature, keeping mostly to yourself.” Byleth nods.

“We’ve been spying on you here and there.” Yuri grins. “You are so damn boring. Anyway, hiring you at the university made it easier to eavesdrop on your conversations.”

“What about the gas station incident.” You have a puzzled look on your face.

“That was all you.” Byleth shakes his head. “We had no idea that you could retain so much knowledge that you could actually cast spells. Crests have pretty much faded from existence. There are probably a few flickers here and there but nothing manifesting.”

You head back to the comfy couch, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. “So what now?”

“Well you can go on with your best life. You can work with us. What do you want to do?” Byleth shrugs. “We want to give your soul some closure. Maybe to be able to move on? Not like some creepy ghost or anything.”

Yuri winks, “Hey what about your love life? Do you remember much about it?”

You scrunch your face remembering what a mess it was. “Yes, I do. Ugh. I fell for Claude but had no chance because of supersexy female Byleth. I chased after Felix who was a good friend, but he was in love with Sylvain for forever. Then omg, can’t believe I am saying this, Hubert, and well, he was all over Ferdinand.”

They both look at you with a slight frown.

“I don’t know what order Byleth went through the different houses. I never remembered from one experience to the next. Now that I remember them all, I can certainly see what I didn’t before. A whole lot of ‘love is blind’ going on. Wanting something so much you can’t see the signs blocking your way.”

“How about now?” Yuri has that sly look about him. What a gossip.

“Working two jobs trying to pay for college and not be buried in debt, I have not dated. Ever.” You shrug. “It isn’t fair to someone else, we would have almost no time together. I work nights 7 days a week then school and homework. There is no time to breathe or eat, much less look for love.”

“Well, Byleth is unavailable.” Yuri moves a bit closer to him to assert his ownership. “You know Claude is quite curious about you, ‘Janitor’.” He taunts.

You roll your eyes. “What part of my life don’t you spy on?”

The three of you talk about fond memories, precious victories, even recalling a few of the tragic events.

“So you’ve poked a hole in my brain and all of my memories are out. What would you like to see me do? Wow. I feel like I just dropped a card into the Advice Box.” You laugh.

Byleth, who loved to answer these, sits up. “You should finish your degree and get your Masters.”

“Masters?” You groan, “I am dying right now, you want more? Degree, Masters, required internships and I’m already behind not being able to take things on full boat. I’ll be graduating when I’m 40.”

“Well, there’s a scholarship you may be interested in.” Yuri has his sneaky sneak face on. “You qualify of course. Pays for your schooling, housing, and monthly stipend. Funded by the Eisner foundation. Very private lot they are. More of a don’t call us, we’ll call you kind of group.”

You fall back onto the couch in shock. “W-why are you doing this?” trying to choke back tears.

“The usual.” He drawls. “Finally being able to catch up with old friends. Thank them for everything they’ve done. We would not be here without you. Hoping maybe you want to hang out with us. Maybe awaken a few others?”

“This is all beyond belief.” You shake your head. “If you asked me six months ago that I would be here with you two, talking over past lives. Wow. Do Seteth and Flayn come and visit?”

“They’re around.” Yuri gestures just vaguely enough to let you know yes, but that is not readily available information at this time.

“You are not planning on forming a vigilante superhero group or something weird like that are you?” You frown.

Yuri pouts. “You don’t want to be Lightning Lady or the silver bolt?”

“No.” you answer resolutely. “Masks freak me out these days. You should’ve seen some of the stuff in the art show. Made the Death Knight look like a fairy princess.”

Byleth stands. “We deserve a great dinner, care to join us at Dedue’s?”

“He’s here? Cooking? You bet!” You realize this is the beginning of something amazing.

#fe3h #feth #fire emblem three houses #fe3 x reader #m!byleth #Yuri Leclerc #fe3h fanfic #fe3h fanfiction

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everybodyscupoftea · 3 years

Text

let it snow

college isaac x reader

finals week hell capped off with the first snow of the season

(warnings: mentions of not taking care of yourself during finals - lack of sleep, over-caffeinating, etc; cursing; very little editing)

Finals week fall of your third year was ugly. It was a grueling combination of coffee and protein bars with absolutely no sleep. There was a table you’d managed to claim on the third floor of your campus’s library, and the only time you left was for an ill-advised gym trip to wake yourself up.

Isaac didn’t like the silence of the third floor like you did, so he’d been working with some of the kids in his major. You texted him a few times a day, but for the most part, you’d been reworking every single homework assignment you’d been given all semester.

Mid-way through the week, you made a trip to Taco Bell for actual food that wasn’t toast or a protein bar, much to Isaac’s displeasure. He watched you eating it with a weird look, so you finally asked, “What?”

“How much have you eaten this week?”

“Lots of protein bars and breakfast.”

“And instead of letting me cook something good for you tonight, you got fast food?”

“Yep. Braincells are overworked, so I didn’t think that far ahead.”

Stiles was sitting on the opposite end of the table, working on a research paper for his criminal justice course, and snorted, “Dude, she’d rather Taco Bell than your cooking.”

“That’s not true, I definitely said I forgot.” you muttered, trying to defend him.

He shrugged, “That’s not what I heard.”

Isaac rolled his eyes and shoved Stiles’s shoulder, “Fuck off, dude.”

“Who’s editing your Shakespeare paper? Me. Show some respect.”

“Stiles makes a point,” you responded, taking the last bite of your quesadilla before breaking off into a large yawn.

The furrow between Isaac’s brow was back when he looked at you, and you stood up, rolling your shoulders out, ready to go back to the library to work through another set of structures homework.

“Hey, when’s the last time you slept?” Stiles asked, shutting his computer gently.

“Like,” you paused, trying to think, “last night.”

Immediately, Isaac chipped in, “How long?”

“Three hours?”

“And the night before?” Stiles was walking over to you.

“Oh, no sleep that night. Got sucked into some geotech homework and the next thing I knew it was 6 a.m. So I went to the gym to get some endorphins going, had some breakfast, and got another coffee.”

“You should sleep,” Isaac told you.

“Only two more tests, and then I can rest.”

Stiles sighed, “At least take a shower.”

“Actually, that would be great.”

Isaac nodded, and you could tell he was already trying to figure out the best way to get you to stay the night. You were determined to power through for a bit.

Getting out of the shower, feeling significantly more alive, you put on the clothes Isaac had left for you, and started toweling your hair off. You checked the outside temperature, wincing when you saw how fucking cold it was, and started layering back up.

Isaac was sitting on the couch, scrolling through Netflix, when you walked out. He jumped up, “Where are you going?”

“Library for a few hours and then bed.”

“What time is your first test tomorrow?”

You sighed, trying to think, “Fuck, I need to check. I think 10:30 in the morning.”

“What class?”

With a grimace, you answered, “Structures.”

He looked like he didn’t really want to let you go, but he knew you’d be really upset if he tried to keep you back. Nodding, he smiled softly, “Text me after your test tomorrow.”

“I will.”

Putting a hand on his shoulder for balance, you rose up on your tiptoes to give him a goodbye kiss. When you pulled apart, Isaac reached over and grabbed a beanie from the hook next to the door, gently putting it on your head, tugging it down to cover your ears.

“Don’t want you to get sick,” he flicked your nose.

You clutched your chest dramatically, “My hero.”

He sighed, feigning exasperation, and nudged you out the door, “Go finish the semester.”

Structures and geotech, both on the same day, kicked your ass. After the geotech final at 2:00, you stumbled out of the classroom, eyes practically shutting. You weren’t sure that you could make the drive back to your apartment.

Taking one more sip of coffee to power through, and after a few minutes, pulled out your phone. Isaac’s apartment was fairly close to the civil engineering building, so you decided to call to see if you could crash there.

“Isaac,” you started when he answered.

“Hey, bub.”

“Can I stay at your place?”

“Yeah of course,” you heard ruffling in the background and suddenly his voice got louder, “are you close?”

“Walking that way. I don’t think I should drive back to my apartment.”

“Have you eaten today?”

“Fuck,” you muttered, “I was gonna pick something up on my way home, but I forgot.”

“No worries,” he was quick to reassure, “I have plenty of food here for you.”

“God, you’re the best.”

He stuttered a few times, and you could practically feel his blush through the phone, “Hurry up,” was his weak response, and you laughed, hanging up.

The walk was easier after that, though the sky was grey and the wind was picking up. You frowned, pulling your jacket tighter around you, and Isaac’s hat lower on your head. It took about three seconds for him to answer after you knocked, dressed exactly the same as the day before.

He had a plate ready for you, leftover fried rice and chicken, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Before you could start eating, he asked, “How were your tests?”

“Geotech was easier, but structures melted my brain in the morning, so who actually knows. What about your Shakespeare essay?”

“Stiles read it over for me last night and I submitted it online and dropped it off this morning. Been watching Netflix since then.”

You yawned again, stretching out with the hand not holding your plate, and walked over to the couch to sit down. Isaac sat next to you and hit play on whatever movie he’d been watching. Curling up, you dug in.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. You faintly remembered dozing off during the movie, plate still in your lap, before Isaac woke you up and made you go to bed. He woke you up once more when he climbed in next to you.

The third and final time you woke up, Isaac was gone. It was light outside, grey like snow was coming, and you had no clue what time it was, just that you were hungry again. You heard a burst of loud laughter before someone shushed them, equally loudly.

WIth a laugh, you climbed out of bed, heading to the bathroom connected to his room to brush your teeth and wash your face. Luckily, the clothes you’d left the night before were washed and sitting on his dresser, so you were able to change.

Scott and Stiles were on the couch, playing COD, when you finally walked out. Stiles hit pause and whistled, “Damn, look who managed to resurrect herself.”

“Looks pretty good for a dead bitch,” you joked back.

Isaac was in the kitchen, and you went over to see what he was cooking. He handed you a mug with a smile, “It’s hot chocolate. Figure you’ve had enough caffeine for a whole month this week. There is some coffee in the recipe, I saw it online.”

Taking a sip, you hummed, “This is fantastic.”

He beamed, “I’m glad you like it. I’m making taco soup for tonight, did you want a sandwich?”

“That would be great.”

Hopping up on the counter, you swung your legs back and forth and watched him make you a grilled cheese just the way you like it, tomatoes and everything. Isaac handed it over and ruffled your hair gently, “Eat up.”

“Very nutritious,” you commented before taking a bite.

He laughed, “I’ll make you eat veggies later. I want to go outside first, it snowed.”

“Oh my god, actually?” you gasped.

Leaning against the counter next to you, he nodded, “First of the year.”

“What time is it?” you finally remembered to ask between bites.

“3:00 in the afternoon. I texted your roommate while you were asleep to let her know you were alive.”

“Oh shit, thanks.”

Scott wandered into the kitchen, “So, we going outside soon?”

“We need to get out there before it gets all ugly,” Stiles added from where he was still on the couch.

“Let’s fucking go,” you hopped off the counter, eating your last bite.

The four of you traipsed outside after bundling up. There were a few other people outside walking around, a group of girls taking pictures under a really pretty snow-covered tree, and then your group making noise and kicking at the snow.

“I can’t take you guys anywhere,” you snorted when Stiles slipped and fell on his ass.

“God damn,” he muttered, “that hurt.”

Scott helped him up and immediately shoved a handful of snow down his shirt. Stiles squealed, twisting away from him, cursing loudly. You and Isaac laughed, his arm draped over your shoulder, until Scott turned your way with two more handfuls.

“If you put that down my shirt,” you warned, “I’m calling your mom.”

“You won’t.”

“Fuckin bet, bud.”

He dropped one hand slowly and turned to Isaac, “You’re on your own.”

While Scott chased Isaac across the parking lot, Stiles walked over toward the edge of the sidewalk, you following closely behind, interested to see what he was going to do with the mischievous look on his face.

With his foot, Stiles spelled out penis in the snow.

“Oh that’s mature.”

He glared at you, “Do better, I dare you.”

After a few seconds of thought, you spelled out send nudes and he had to concede defeat. Isaac came back a few seconds later, panting, cheeks red, and looked down, “Cute.”

“Thanks. Should I leave my Snap too?”

He rolled his eyes, “No.”

“You’re probably right. I have no interest in seeing an unsolicited dick pic this close to Christmas.”

“Just this close to Christmas?” Scott asked, “You’re okay with it the rest of the year?”

You paused, “Well no. Don’t make fun of me, my single braincell is still recovering.”

Stiles snorted, “Head empty snow day.”

“My mom will want a picture,” you told them, “set up the timer.”

It took five attempts, but you finally got one you were happy with. Isaac leaned over your shoulder, “Tell your mom I said hey.”

“Will do,” you muttered, looking at it again.

Scott stood on the right, eyes squinted with a wide smile, Isaac a bit behind him, one arm over Scott’s shoulder, one around you. Isaac’s smile was soft, looking straight at you. Stiles stood on your left, your arm wrapped around his shoulder, his hand reaching for yours, cheeky grin on his face while you glared playfully at him.

“Come on,” Stiles yelled, halfway up the stairs back to their apartment, “hot chocolate awaits!”

You hit send and followed after them, ready for another mug.

day eleven of @obxmermaid‘s holiday challenge: playing in the snow

#college isaac #isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey fic #obxmermaidholiday

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Text

Home is Where You Are pt 2 | Feysand

Girl next door AU. Part 1 Part 3

Of course she had a fiancé. Feyre was talented, sweet, gorgeous, and did this really cool thing with the mud pies where she sprinkled dry dirt on top like cocoa. Okay, that last one was a childhood memory but Rhys hadn't seen her since they were kids. It was a very confusing moment for him.

"Nice to meet you," he said smoothly, extending a hand. He pushed down on the swell of jealousy that rose through him. It was ridiculous really, he hadn't seen the girl in a decade and some part of his animal brain thought it was allowed to be jealous. Surely he was better than that.

"Still live on Velaris street, do you?" Tamlin asked. His had was clammy when he shook Rhys'. "No, I moved out to the city some years ago," Rhys replied. He put his hands in his pockets. "Feyre invited me back."

"Rhys was always over," Feyre explained. She looked at him now, and the affection shining in her eyes made him forget to wonder why she had never told her fiancé about him. "His dad... wasn't great so he practically lived with us. I thought he might want to be here before we sold off the old place. Rhys is my oldest friend."

"Daddy issues, huh?" Tamlin said, in what Rhys had to imagine was an attempt at a sympathetic look. This did nothing for his first impression of the man. Feyre frowned at him, but Rhys just tilted his head to one side. "Do you know," Rhys mused, "I think even as a child Feyre had such a protective side to her, and I think that's why she loved me extra hard."

Tamlin glowered, and Rhys gave him a winning smile. Even as all the while the voice in his head whispered play nice, play nice.

"Why don't we go for lunch?" Feyre suggested. "I'm starving." "You're always starving," Tamlin said, rolling his eyes. "Lunch would be perfect," Rhys said. "We drove in, do you want a lift?" "Sure, thanks."

The three of them climbed into Tamlin's irritatingly red car to a diner not far from the old house. The neighbourhood wasn't bad, actually, it was just Rhys' attached memories that made it seem decrepit. He reminded himself that he had rather liked this diner, that Feyre's family had eaten here often and sometimes brought him with them. Particularly when Feyre's parents noticed he hadn't been eating very much.

A waitress came to take their order, and Rhys ordered a club sandwich. He looked at Feyre through one eye.

"Cheeseburger, no pickles, right?" He remembered this, because he had always been the one that ate said pickles after she picked them off. The sweetest grin started to spread over Feyre's face. But then Tamlin cut in.

"Actually," he said, "we adhere to a strict paleo diet. Well, some of us more strict than others." He nudged Feyre in the ribs, and turned to the waitress.

"We'll have two of the chicken caesar salad, with no dressing, and no cheese. Oh and no croutons."

Rhys stared. Feyre's face seemed to fall a little, but then she smiled at the waitress and handed back her menu.

The food came quickly, and Rhys' sandwich came with a side order of fries. Feyre's and Tamlin's meals looked, unsurprisingly, disappointing. Half way through, Tamlin asked for extra grilled chicken to add to his meal, and didn't offer any to Feyre. Rhys watched Feyre out of the corner of his eye. She had said she was starving.

"Hey," he said to her. "Can you help me with these fries? I'm full and I hate wasting food." "Sure," Feyre said brightly, and he shuffled them onto her plate where she practically inhaled them. "Babe," Tamlin said, aghast. "Come on, you had fries last week." He leaned in and spoke quietly to Feyre- but not so quietly that Rhys couldn't hear him. "Lay off the fried foods for a bit, huh?"

Feyre pushed him off. "Leave me alone, Tamlin," she said. "I'm selling my dead father's house. And I'm hungry."

Rhys concentrated on the remains of his sandwich. Good, he thought. That was more like the Feyre he knew. Had known.

After they were done, Tamlin got up to use the restroom, leaving Feyre and Rhys alone. Rhys couldn't help himself.

"That guy?" he barked with a laugh. "That's your fiancé? What are you doing with him Feyre?" "Hey don't be a dick," Feyre said, surprised. "You only just met him." "Yeah and I already know him. 'You had fries last week'? That sounds familar." Feyre's face twisted in anger. "Tamlin is not your father," she hissed. "He was my personal trainer when we met, I said I wanted to lose a few pounds, he's helping me keep on track." Rhys leaned back in the booth. "Oh so he met you as a professional, started a relationship with a client, and is still commenting on your eating as your partner. Yeah, that's much better."

Feyre opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. "You know what," she said. "It's been a very long time since we were friends." "Best friends. If I recall." "That's a childish term. I am not a child, and I certainly don't need you to come rescue me."

At that moment, Tamlin reappeared. "Are we ready to go?" he said. "Yes," Feyre replied curtly, and slid out from the bench. "You two go ahead," Rhys said, toying with his water glass. "I'll walk. It'll be good to revisit the old neighbourhood." "Fine," Feyre said. "Alright," Tamlin said, "how should we split the bill?" "I've got it," Rhys replied. "Fine," Feyre said again, and towed Tamlin out the door.

When they were gone, Rhys let his head drop back against the back of the seat, and closed his eyes. Idiot, idiot, idiot, he chanted to himself. He stood, paid for the food, and began the walk back to the house.

By the time Rhys reached their old address, he had calmed down enough to feel ashamed. He had not meant to sound so condescending, he had just been shocked that Tamlin was who Feyre had ended up with.

When he walked up to the house, the red car was nowhere to be seen. He opened the door, still unlocked.

"Feyre?" he called. "Here," her voice returned. Rhys walked through the house, gazing around himself as he did. It looked smaller than he remembered- although that was likely because he was taller. The Archerons had left so quickly that they hadn't bothered to take everything with them. The old furniture still remained, under now grey drop sheets.

Feyre was standing in the kitchen, with her hands braced on the island countertop. "Tamlin was called back to town for a work thing," she said. "Ah," Rhys said. "We were supposed to stay a few days and get things checked off before the funeral... but I can do it myself, I guess." She suddenly sounded very tired.

"Hey," Rhys said gently. She looked up at him, with those heart-stopping, stormy eyes. "I'm sorry about earlier." Feyre sighed. "It's okay." "It's not," Rhys said. "You were right. I don't know him, and I don't know you, really. I had no right to come in and make comments about your relationship." "No," Feyre said slowly. "You didn't." "I won't do it again," Rhys said. "And, I would love to get to know you. You know, as adults."

Feyre smiled. "I would like that too." She leaned her elbows against the counter top. "You're forgiven." She flashed a wicked grin. "Prick."

Rhys smiled. She had called him that when they were young- it was one of the first grown-up insults she had learned and took great delight in hurling it at him.

"So what do you want to do?" he asked. "I guess, we go through the house and find out what's in here." She wrinkled her nose. "I almost want a HAZMAT suit." Rhys laughed. "Let's open some windows," he said.

For the rest of the afternoon, they uncovered the Archeron's abandoned belongings. Some things were completely unrecognisable. Many of the things brought back memories, funny or happy or sad, and Rhys was warmed by the realisation that he had just as many memories here as Feyre did. Eventually, the sun started to go down, and of course there was no electricity in the house. They had been drinking water out of a tap in the neighbour's garden.

"Where are you staying?" Rhys asked her. "Well, here I guess." Rhys looked around himself, at ten years of dust and debris. "Is this... liveable?" "Probably not," Feyre said. "I think we might suffocate to death in our sleep. I thought about going back into town, but Tamlin's rushed off with the car. Where are you staying?" "Do you know, I never quite got that far." Rhys gave her a lopsided grin, embarrassed. The truth was, he had been so focused on making his way back to her that he hadn't even considered logistics like where he might sleep that night.

Feyre straightened up, and her eyes twinkled. "I've got an idea," she said.

An hour later, as it got dark in earnest, Rhys stomped down the last tent peg. The had muddled through the garage until they found the old camping gear, in surprisingly good nick.

Feyre lay down, and Rhys squeezed his broad frame in beside her. "Does it horrify you a bit that after ten years, these plastic nylon sleeping bags haven't degraded at all?' Rhys asked. "It does," Feyre agreed, "although I'm also thankful we have the option. That house is not fit for the living." "Well," said Rhys, "tomorrow we can spend the day cleaning. It'll be good as new." "Okay, deal!" Feyre said happily. They lay in silence for a moment.

"Do you know," Rhys said. "I'm pretty sure the last time we saw each other was in this very tent." Feyre laughed a husky, gorgeous laugh. "Oh I'm very aware. We were each others' first kiss."

Rhys rolled onto his side to look at her. "What's happened since then?" he asked. "What have you been doing for the last ten years?"

Feyre gave him an odd look, taken aback a little by the sudden intensity in his voice. Rhys didn't care. He had thought of her so many times through the years, but she had become some sort of distant, nostalgic memory.

Now she was here, he had to know. Everything.

Feyre rolled slowly to face him, and became serious. "What happened is my mom died," she said. "And my dad, he couldn't cope with it. He never recovered, and so I didn't know it at the time but I lost both my parents that day. We moved into some shitty rental, and then something would remind him of her and we moved again. He couldn't hold down a job, couldn't stay in one place. I think I haven't had a real home since I left here."

Her lovely eyes were filled with such sadness, it was all Rhys could do not to reach out and touch her face.

"Me neither," he said quietly. "Next door was never home for me, you know that. And after you guys left... after you were gone..." "Where's your father now?" Feyre asked. "Dead," Rhys said. "I'm sorry." "I'm not."

Feyre didn't respond. Rhys sighed. "I shouldn't say that about him." "He was a bastard," Feyre said. "He was, at that." Rhys said. Feyre rolled back to stare at the ceiling of the tent, and Rhys wanted so much to pull her back. But instead, he rolled over, too. He listened to her breathing in the dark, and for a moment, they could have been thirteen again. For a moment, it was as if no time at all had passed and he had his best friend back and they were home.

Then Feyre spoke.

"At least I've got Tamlin now," she said. “We just rent our apartment right now but in a few years we’ll buy a house, and then I’ll have a home again.”

And with that the moment was over.

****

Mm. This is not quite where I thought this would go, but let's embrace the angst for a hot minute and see where it goes.

Keep reading: Part 3

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #acomaf #acosf #mine #angst

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suituuup · 4 years

Text

shine

Beca and Chloe meet during Pride

Word count: 2,7k

Rating: T

ao3 link

inbox open to prompts!

It was Stacie’s idea.

Of course it was. Everything that leads to Beca asking herself what the fuck she’s doing here can often be linked back to Stacie fucking Conrad.

Beca’s got a few examples to argue her case. That time she ended up in the ER on New Year’s Eve because Stacie thought riding a Segway while being drunk would be super fun, or when they got stuck in a snowstorm while driving up to Vermont that one year and nearly froze to death.

So when Stacie suggested a few days back that they go to the Pride parade, Beca initially said no. Don’t get her wrong; she’s all for the event, she just doesn’t do well with crowds. That Friday before the parade happens to be one of Beca’s worst days at work probably since the start of her career though, so when Stacie insisted she should tag along with her and Amy, Beca rolled her eyes, huffed, and eventually agreed, because what the hell.

She doesn’t know it yet, as she stands in packed 7th avenue that hot and humid Saturday afternoon, but she’ll be so glad she decided to go to Pride.

Right now though, she’s struggling for breath as panic slowly creeps into her body, tangling around her limbs and making her legs feel as heavy as lead. There are people everywhere, the music is pounding against her skull and it’s just too fucking hot.

“I’ll be right back,” she tells Stacie, curling a hand around her wrist to get her attention. “Check your phone if I lose you guys?”

“Yeah, you got it.”

Beca uncomfortably weaves through the crowd, muttering various apologies to the few people she bumps into as she keeps her eyes fastened on the sidewalk. The knots in her chest tighten when she reaches an adjacent street, leaning against the wall and tilting her head back. She’s focused on her chopped breathing and willing her heart to slow the fuck down when a voice cuts through the fog clouding her brain.

“Hey, you okay?”

Her eyes snap open to find twin twinkles of bright blue staring at her in concern, standing out despite the colorful rainbows painted on the woman’s cheeks that should steal Beca’s attention.

“I’m uh,” Beca winces, bracing a hand on her chest when her breathing derails even more. “Not really. I’m having a sort of panic attack.”

“Oh shit, okay, um--” The redhead glances around them, then focuses back on Beca. “Anything I can do?”

Beca shakes her head, her eyes screwing shut as she goes through the 5-5-5 breathing technique a few times, until her lungs don’t feel as deprived of oxygen as before.

The redhead is still standing there when she opens her eyes. She fishes into her tote bag, pulling out a bottle of water and extending it to Beca. “Here. It’s still capped.”

“Thanks,” Beca mutters, taking the cool bottle from her and drinking a few sips. She takes a few beats to observe the other woman as she hands the bottle back. She’s wearing a white shirt with a cute dinosaur waving a pride flag, faded denim shorts and sneakers, and has got a camera slung across her chest. “You’re a photographer?”

“Yeah. Well, not professionally, but hoping to become one someday.” She extends her hand, that genuine smile still in place. “I’m Chloe.”

Beca flushes, knowing her hand is probably clammy and disgusting compared to how soft Chloe’s feels. “Beca.”

“First Pride?”

Beca nods. “Yeah, and kinda regretting it.” She scrunches up her nose when she realizes how that might come across. “Not because of-- I think it’s great that it exists, I mean, I’m not straight so of course I don’t have anything against Pride itself.” God, just shut up. “I just don’t like crowds. Or the heat.”

Chloe hums, seemingly barely able to keep her amusement at bay. “I kinda need a break, too. Wanna come check out the Stonewall exhibit at the public library with me?” She raises an eyebrow, then adds, “Less people and AC…”

Any other day, Beca would have probably said no. But the journey back to Brooklyn if she goes home now will most likely be slow and painful, and she kinda wants to hang out with Chloe, for reasons she can’t explain as they’ve only ‘known’ each other less than five minutes and Beca is usually wary about strangers.

“Sure, why not. Let me just shoot a text to my friends.”

Once she tells Stacie not to worry about her, Beca follows Chloe through the crowd, Chloe’s hand finding hers before they get in the thick of the crowd.

“So we don’t lose each other,” Chloe says over her shoulder, winking softly. She doesn’t let go even when they reach quieter streets, but weirdly Beca doesn’t mind.

She chuckles at herself, shaking her head softly because this is so unlike her.

“What?” Chloe asks, a mixture of curiosity and confusion swirling in her eyes.

“Nothing, I just…” Beca shrugs. “This is not how I expected today to go, at all.”

Chloe’s head tilts to the side as she stares at Beca’s profile. “In a good way?”

“Yeah, I really think so.”

Chloe smiles in response, then emits a soft gasp, letting go of Beca’s hand. “Hold on, one sec.” She crosses the street before Beca can say anything, stepping up to this drag couple and asking them if she can do a mini photoshoot.

Beca watches on in amusement, grinning when Chloe walks back to her after thanking the pair. They fall back into step, and Beca resists the urge to slide her hand into Chloe’s once more.

She lets out a sigh of relief as soon as they step inside the cool building.

“Better?” Chloe asks.

“Yeah,” Beca breathes, nodding.

They hike up the staircase, Chloe coming to a stop to snap a picture of the Love & Resistance neon sign above the door leading to the exhibit. As they stroll about from one picture to another, Beca finds herself glancing at Chloe often, finding Chloe’s clear love for photography endearing.

“That was really cool,” Chloe says when they step back under the scorching sun after spending about an hour inside. They stopped at the gift shop, where Chloe purchased a few prints of the photographs exhibited. “Did you like it?”

“I did, yeah,” Beca nods, smiling softly. “Those people were really fucking brave. It’s inspiring.”

“I think so, too.” She licks her lips, glancing at Beca. “What are you doing now?”

“Not sure yet,” Beca says; one thing she’s sure of is that she doesn’t want to part ways with Chloe just yet. “Why? Wanna whisk me away again?”

Chloe’s soft laughter sends Beca’s heart for a spin. “Maybe.” A soft hand emcompasses hers once more. “Do you trust me?”

Beca cocks an eyebrow, a smirk ticking the corners of her lips. “Kind of a bold question seeing as we’ve known each other for an hour. You could be a serial killer for all I know.”

A giggle flits past Chloe’s lips, and she tugs on Beca’s hand. “Come on.”

“I’m low key concerned you didn’t try and correct me on the whole serial killer thing,” Beca teases, catching up so she falls into step with Chloe. “Or maybe you’re just a stalker? Would explain the fancy camera.”

“Stop,” Chloe requests with a chuckle, shoving Beca with her shoulder.

“I’m kidding,” Beca assures her, lacing their fingers before she can think twice about it. “So where are you taking me?”

“There’s a street fair a couple blocks away with crafts, food and drinks. Should be less crowded but still festive.”

“Sounds cool.”

They get there about twenty minutes later, Chloe stopping a few times along the way to snap a few street shots. The fair has a family-friendly block-party kind of vibe, with various vendors displaying their arts and crafts. Live music is drifting through the street, and Beca instantly feels more comfortable than she did during the parade.

Her heart swells at the sight of a family just ahead of them; two women and their two young kids with rainbows painted on their cheeks. Beca is filled with hope that someday she’ll get to have that, too, that being gay won’t prevent her from building a family and finding happiness, like her dad said it would when she came out to him a couple years ago.

“Where’d you go?” Chloe’s soft voice once again cuts through Beca’s thoughts.

“Nowhere,” she murmurs, glancing towards her new friend. “I just really like it here.”

After strolling about the different booths, they grab a bite to eat and settle down at a picnic table near the makeshift stage where the live band is playing.

“Do you know if there’s a face painting booth somewhere?” Beca finds herself asking once she’s finished her fries. “I wanna get flags on my cheeks, too.”

Stacie offered before they left the apartment, but Beca turned her down, preferring to keep it low-key. Chloe’s rocking it though, and Beca is definitely more ready to embrace her identity than she was a few hours ago.

“Oh, I can do it!” Chloe reaches inside her bag, producing a small paint palette and a brush.

Beca chuckles, shaking her head in amazement. “Of course you’d carry that around.”

As Chloe settles down next to her, straddling the bench, Beca mirrors her position and gathers her hair up and out of the way, piling it up on her head in a messy bun. She inhales sharply as Chloe takes her chin gently and leans closer to apply the first stroke.

The cool brush sliding over her heated skin makes her shiver, and the sudden proximity has her heart thud harder, and she feels a bit overwhelmed by the sudden urge to tilt her head up and forward just slightly to brush a kiss across Chloe’s mouth.

She doesn’t though, because she’s never kissed a girl before and that urge is soon suffocated by the nerves that sprout in the pit of her belly, shackling those butterflies back towards the ground.

“There,” Chloe murmurs, backing away to check her work. Beca realizes she hasn’t been breathing properly and sucks some air into her lungs, blinking. “Cute.”

“Thanks,” Beca croaks out, clearing her throat. She takes her phone to see it for herself in the reflection of the screen, and a bright smile spreads across her features.

“You’re rocking it.”

Soft blush coats Beca’s cheeks as she meets Chloe’s gaze, quickly averting her eyes because those striking blues are really messing with her ability to function properly.

“So I’m supposed to meet a couple friends of mine at this cool bar in an hour or so, I was thinking maybe you and your friends could tag along? No pressure, though.”

“Yeah, um, I’d like that. I’ll text my friends to see if they’re down.”

Cue to Beca being a bit more drunk than she initially planned in a gay bar in Soho a few hours later. The scorching heat probably (definitely) got to her head over the afternoon, so the two cocktails she had really feel like four.

She doesn’t mind, though. That pleasant buzzing thanks to the alcohol loosens her up a little and makes her second guess a lot less.

“So what’s up with you and Red?” Stacie asks over the music as they stand by their table. Chloe’s friends Jessica and Ashely are currently dancing, and Chloe’s gone up to the counter to get water.

Beca wonders if her attraction to Chloe is that see-through, or if it’s just Stacie being Stacie, and poking Beca has always been one of her favorite things. “What?”

The tall brunette rolls her eyes. “Come on, you guys have the hots for each other.”

Beca is thankful for the dim lighting as her face flushes hard. “You-- you think she’s into me?”

“Duh,” Amy confirms with a twin eyeroll.

Stacie slaps Amy’s arm. “Oh, here she comes. Let’s go dance, Ames.”

Beca’s eyes widen and her jaw drops when she realizes her friends are abandoning ship. “Guys! Seriously?? ”

The confirmation that Chloe’s attracted to her only makes Beca all nervous again, and she jumps slightly when Chloe shows up beside her.

“You alright?” Chloe asks, gently cupping Beca’s elbow.

“Yeah, yes. I’m grand.” Grand? Grand?? God, it’s like she can hear Stacie cackling in her head. Beca slams her eyes shut and wrinkles her nose as Chloe giggles. “Ugh. I mean good. I’m good.”

“Good,” Chloe echoes, her smile teasing. “So why are Stacie and Amy staring at us?”

Mortified, Beca glances in the direction of Chloe’s head tilt to find Stacie and Amy both innocently looking away as they stand across the room. She groans in annoyance. “I’m gonna kill them.”

Chloe laughs again, and Beca realizes her hand is still on her arm, her thumb stroking Beca’s skin back and forth. “It’s okay. I’m glad they’re looking out for you.”

“They’re not looking out for me,” Beca grumbles. “They’re just having the time of their lives because they know I’m a terrible flirt and I don’t know how to act around a beautiful woman.” She chuckles, her blush flaring up once more. “Oh wow, I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

“Which part?” Chloe asks. “You being a terrible flirt or calling me beautiful?”

Beca wets her suddenly dry lips. “Me being bad at this,” she replies, sucking in a sharp breath. “I definitely meant the second part.”

Chloe licking her lips like she does in the next beat makes Beca’s knees wobble. “You wanna dance?”

Beca’s phone lights up with a text from Stacie before she can respond. We’re heading somewhere else. Coming or staying? ;)

She throws Chloe an apologetic smile as she grasps her phone. “Sorry, let me just reply.”

Beca

I’m gonna stay.

Stacie’s reply is instant. Happy scissoring.

She makes the mistake to glance towards the pair, catching Amy doing a V with her fingers by her mouth and flicking her tongue between them.

“Oh my god,” Beca mutters, setting her forehead on the table. “Any chance you didn’t catch that? My friends are an embarrassment.” She eventually straightens, shaking it off. “And yeah, I wanna dance.”

Chloe doesn’t beat around the bush, setting her hands on Beca’s hips and tugging Beca closer once they’re facing each other. Beca’s top doesn’t quite meet her high waisted skirt, and Chloe’s touch sends an electric jolt down her spine, its aftershocks echoing in the tips of her toes.

Her arms loop around Chloe’s neck and it’s only now they’re standing so close that Beca notices how blue Chloe’s eyes are. She also notes the want and passion burning in those irises, and feels another chill travel her body. Chloe moves flawlessly to the beat, and Beca matches her rhythm, gradually crushing the sliver of distance between them until her own hips are swaying flush against Chloe’s.

The song blends into another one, but Beca doesn’t really register it; she’s slowly being consumed by the desire to kiss Chloe, and this time doesn’t let her damn insecurities get the upper hand. Leaning in slowly, she captures Chloe’s lips in a kiss, a delighted hum mingling into it as Chloe kisses her back instantly. One of Chloe’s hands leaves her hip to hold her face gently, warm and reassuring over her skin.

The kiss is slow and tender, exploratory on Beca’s end, and probably the best Beca’s ever had. Her head soon spins from those wonderful, foreign sensations spreading through her body, and she finds herself needing a break shortly after. She pulls away just a bit, her lips tingling as Chloe’s breath skates across them.

When Chloe asks her if she wants to get out of there, Beca should probably tell her she’s new at this, that she’s never been with a girl before, but the words never surface from her throat. She does admit it half an hour later as they’re heavily making-out just outside Chloe’s place, but not to put a stop to it.

She wants this more than she’s probably ever wanted anything else, but she’s afraid of not knowing what to do.

Despite their palpable desire, they slow down once they eventually make it to Chloe’s bedroom, and Beca’s grateful for that. The next couple hours are a blur of yet unparalleled pleasure and Beca sleeps hard afterwards, waking up a bit confused the next morning.

She flushes when memories from the night before surface, explaining the wonderful aches her body’s experiencing when she stretches. She’s alone in bed and the apartment is silent, but a note lies on the pillow next to her.

Hey you. Had to run to work and didn’t want to wake you up. Help yourself to coffee and a shower, if you’d like. Yesterday was pretty awesome. I hope we can see each other again soon. Here’s my phone number: 917-695-8691. Have a good day. :)

Chloe xx

Beca fails to keep her smile at bay and she might even squeal a little bit as she flops back against her pillow.

She guesses she should thank Stacie for dragging her to Pride, after all.

#bechloe #bechloe fic

124 notes · View notes

mshermia · 3 years

Text

What’s In Your Heart - Webpril 03: Soul World

summary:

Peter had been dodging Tony for weeks now. A few months after the world was saved, Tony wasn't sure what he had done but every time they had scheduled a day at the lake house, Peter found a new excuse to cancel.

Or, Peter struggles with the aftermath of the Snap.

read on AO3

###

"What the hell is wrong with my cooking?" Pepper had spun around, not too far off from that metaphorical steam coming out of her ears.

Tony was on thin ice. On very thin ice. No matter how much his awesome brain had been praised left and right over the past decades, it sure was failing him now.

"Nothing is wrong with it. And while I personally love your lentil and chicken sausage stew, I'm not sure the kid has the pallet to appreciate your hard work, honey," he rambled, trying not to stumble over his words. "Plus we're out of kale."

Pepper shrugged up her arms in bewilderment. "How are we out of kale? I just bought some yesterday!"

"Erm..." Tony quickly moved away from her, fiddling with the tab and a jug for a bit to hide the cringe on his face. "I think Madame Secretary fed it to the chickens instead of the lettuce leaves." Tony ignored Pepper's groan of annoyance and pressed on back to the topic at hand. "So, I was thinking I can just order in Thai food when he gets here. You know how the kid loves Thai food."

With a deep breath, she rubbed two fingers over the crease between her eyebrows. "When will he be here?"

"Sometime after lunch," Tony said quickly, adding a quieter, "I think".

"So, we're not entirely sure if he'll be here," Pepper clarified, her arms crossed in front of her. "Again."

"He'll be here," Tony waved her off. "He'll be here."

By 5 o'clock, Tony was bent over his workbench in the basement. Elbows perched on the tabletop and head balanced between both hands, he was staring at nothing in particular, wondering what he'd done wrong. He'd been down there for a while when Pepper's soft steps echoed off the walls as she came down the stairs. Tony didn't bother to move, didn't even bother to pretend that he had been doing anything but mope over the fact that Peter had not shown up. One hand tangled in his hair, the other cradling his face, Pepper pulled him close, his head dipping against her chest.

"Did he message you?"

"No..." Tony mumbled against the fabric of her shirt. It wouldn't be long now though. The kid had not been shy for excuses whenever he had canceled lab time.

"Did you guys have a fight?"

Tony turned his head to the side, wrecking his brain and not for the first time. Had they had a fight? Had he done something wrong?

Things had been perfectly fine right after that last showdown. Well, fine might not be the best word. Tony hadn't been fine, physically at least, but Peter had stuck by his side, never far off when Tony would wake up from a procedure. Every time he had found the kid next to his bed, Tony had been elated. 5 years of agony without him and then, there he was like he had never been gone.

Things had been fine and Tony had no idea where he had gone wrong.

"Maybe it's nothing you have done, hm? It has to be a shock for all of them. Coming back to a world that's so different than what they remembered."

"Yeah," Tony mumbled. "Maybe..."

Just then, his phone lit up with a received message. Pressing his eyes shut, he turned his face back towards Pepper. He didn't need to see it. He had gotten that message too many times already.

It was always the same. Whenever they had finally set a new date, there was something that had come up. Homework. Decathlon practice running long. A late patrol, he needed rest from. May had asked him to stay after all.

"He says that he has a project for school that he's had to finish today and he's not quite done yet and that it'll be too late to come over afterwards," Pepper read out loud for him.

Schoolwork. On a Saturday.

She ruffled her hand through Tony's hair and pressed a kiss on top of his head. "I can still make some stew?"

Tony grimaced against her. "I don't like it with no kale."

With a soft laugh, she pressed another kiss to his head, then untangled Tony's arms from her waist. "Well, me and your daughter will be up there waiting for when you're done feeling sorry for yourself, okay?"

"Funny," Tony grunted, slumping against the top of his workbench again. Pepper was halfway up the stairs when he called out to her. "Is it me? Am I... am I expecting too much after... after everything? Maybe it was all just in my head?"

"Babe, I think I'm the wrong person to ask all that." She tilted her head with a sigh. "Just talk to Peter."

Tony leaned back in his chair, eyes on his fingers toying with the nanites on his right hand. Sure, talking was his area of expertise. Feelings, not so much.

It had been a long time since Tony had been to the city. Even with all the years, he had lived in Manhattan, that lake house had been terribly easy to get used to. The glare of the streetlights of Queens was definitely something Tony could live without. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel as he squinted up at the apartment building.

This was a horrible idea.

Tony straightened the sleeves of his jacket as the elevator doors opened onto the floor of Peter and May's apartment. He hadn't felt this awkward ringing at someone's door since his first date in college and back then his biggest worry had been if his fake ID was convincing enough. He brushed his knuckles against the apartment door softly first, then a little hard before he stepped back a little. As the door flew open, it was neither Peter nor May who stood in the frame.

Happy, dresses in boxer shorts and a white t-shirt, was the last person Tony had expected to run into at the Parker's apartment.

"Erm..." Tony blinked a couple of times, his mouth gaping just a bit too wide for his standards.

"Tony! What..." Happy's eyes had grown round and big, his complexion paling as he tugged down the hem of his shirt a little further. "What... what are you doing here?"

"Yeah," Tony mumbled. "Yeah, me... I'm the surprise."

Happy's mouth clapped shut. He retreated a little further into the apartment but there was no convenient place for him to hide.

"Do you need more change?" May called from somewhere within the apartment.

"Er, no..." Happy stammered, his voice pitched far too high. "It's... er...." He cringed at Tony, clearly unsure what to say. "All good here."

Tony rubbed a hand over his face. "I just want to talk to Peter."

"Peter?" Happy's shoulders lost a little of their tension. "Peter's not here."

"What?" Whatever awkward energy had been pulsing through Tony before went flat at once. "He was supposed to come to the lake house today and then sent me a messaged to cancel."

Happy frowned. "He did?" His hand shot up and scratched the back of his neck. "May said he's spending the night at Ned's."

"Oh." That stung. Tony couldn't deny it.

"Come on, give the kid a break," Happy sighed. "Listen, I know you missed him and you did all... all that stuff for him, but he needs some time for his friends, too. Don't be an ass about it."

Tony's heart gave an unpleasant squeeze. "Excuse me?"

"Hey..." Happy pulled his hands up, giving him a look like he didn't want to fight. "I'm just saying. He's been out there with you every other day. He's 17. He needs to live a little." A hot flush rose on Happy's face. "I mean like... do some... some teenage stuff."

Stunned, Tony stared up at him. Just as he was working past his confusion enough to get out a mumble 'What the fuck are you talking about?' did the elevator doors open once again.

"Oh, thank god," Happy groaned holding out money for the delivery driver to take. "Listen Tony, I'd really appreciate it if you could keep all this..." He vaguely gestured at himself and the apartment. "...to yourself. May wants to wait for the right moment to tell him, so, please just, you know..."

"Right," Tony breathed. "I'll... er..." He pointed back at the elevator where the delivery man had already disappeared again. "I guess I'll head home then."

With an awkward little wave, balancing the take-out, Happy closed the door leaving Tony alone in the quiet hallway. His heart was beating harder and faster with every passing second, dread spreading through his veins.

"FRI," he muttered. The nanites in his right hand illuminated at the sound of his voice. "Find Peter. Now."

It was only thanks to how fast FRIDAY found him, that Tony managed to calm himself enough to take the car instead of commanding the suit to encase him. Well, that and the fact that Peter was less than 15 minutes drive away from the Parker's apartment.

Mount Olivet Cemetery was quiet. The gates had been closed, visiting hours for the public long over. It left Tony with few options but to suit up after all once he was out of sight of the main gate and then hover over the high fence. He walked the rest of the way guided by FRIDAY until he found Peter sitting in the grass.

He didn't look up at Tony but didn't hesitate to speak when he had walked up behind him. "What are you doing here?"

Tony crossed his arms, carefully to keep his own bruised ego in check. "I went to your place because I thought that maybe we should talk about why you're avoiding me. Of course, then I heard that you're at Ned's and I thought cool, I wonder how the kid's friend is living it up. Was expecting a little something different, not gonna lie. Needs better lighting. Also, I'm quite a fan of this thing called central heating."

"That's hilarious," Peter mumbled.

With a sigh, Tony dropped his arms. He walked up the last couple of steps to Peter and sat down in the grass next to him. The October air was not quite frosty yet but far from comfortable.

"What's going on?"

Peter shrugged. "What do you think?"

"Well, I was hoping you'd lie to your Aunt and me about a secret party schedule or a teenage romance you wanted to keep quiet."

The quiet brooding, the way Peter stared ahead, not baited at all was so unlike him.

"You know, don't you?" Tony kept his eyes on him. "About Happy?"

Peter's chin was resting on his pulled-up knees, eyes staring ahead at the gravestone of Ben Parker.

"Kid?" There were goosebumps on Tony's skin, but now was not the time to freak out.

"Yeah." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "May invites him over when she thinks I'm at your place. Or at Ned's."

"And then you come here instead?"

"Sometimes," Peter whispered.

Tony pressed his eyes shut, battling the rising resentment that Peter would rather sit here alone than to come to him, only to hate himself for making it about himself.

"What's going on, buddy?"

Peter huffed out a breath. "You wouldn't understand."

Both of his hands braced against the wet grass underneath him, Tony swallowed the testy remark that was burning on his tongue. "You're a smart kid. I'm sure you'll find a way to explain."

"Yeah? Well, maybe I'm not as smart as you thought. Maybe I'm not—" Peter pursed his lips, gave his head a little shake.

"You're right," Tony nodded. "Maybe I don't know what it's like. It was just you and May and now you come back and this all seems to have happened too fast and—"

"That's not..." He shook his head again, this time a little more forceful. "It's not that. She's... she's happy and I want that. She deserves that."

"Pete, I'm sure they just don't want to overwhelm you. If you talk to her and—"

"Just drop it," he hissed. "This isn't your problem."

Tony bit the inside of his lip, painfully hard at that. His eyes had snapped away, now squinting down at his own chest, watching it rise and fall with the deep breaths he sucked in, hoping to calm the temper that was blazing up inside him.

"Maybe..." Tony blew out another low breath, determined to keep the edge out of his voice. "Maybe the fact that I'm here and asking should tell you that I'm rather willing to make this my problem, Pete."

For the first time, the kid's head moved just enough that he could squint in Tony's direction. After a moment of hesitation, his eyes flickered back to the grass in front of Ben Parker's headstone. "You're happy now." Peter pressed his lips flat with a little shake of his head. "You don't need this. It's not fair to you."

"No, buddy, what's not fair is you being out here lying to us about where you are. After everything." Tony sucked in a deep breath. "After 5 years of missing you."

Peter hid his face behind his hands and just when Tony thought he had gone too far, pushed too much, the kid's arms dropped drown to his knees. "If I tell you, you can't say anything to May."

"Pete—"

"You have to promise me." At last, he looked right at him, eyes pleading. "She can't know."

Tony held his stare, hoping that maybe it would be enough for Peter to yield, but he didn't falter for even a moment. Tony inclined his head at him, banking on the terms changing after he knew what was going in.

"Alright then."

For a moment, Peter didn't move at all. Then he slung his arms around his legs, pulling them a little closer to his chest like it would help to hold onto his composure when he would speak. Only, he didn't speak. He stared into thin air, lips trembling but not a single word rolled off his tongue.

"Pete?"

As if pulled from a dream, his head snapped in Tony's direction, his eyes swimming with tears.

"I saw... I saw Ben," Peter whispered. "I... Just for a moment. Or..." He narrowed his eyes a little in thought. "Or I thought it was just a moment but now... I'm not so sure anymore. Maybe... maybe it was longer."

"You mean..." Tony swallowed hard, nerves fluttering in his stomach. "After. When you were gone?"

Peter nodded, a first tear dropping off his lashes.

It wasn't surprising. In fact, it was quite in line with what Tony had thought this might be about. Stories of those who had been dusted seeing dead loved ones had sparked up soon after those lost during the Snap had returned.

A trip to heaven for the fallen, was what the tabloids had coined it. A nice sentiment for some, Tony was sure, but they didn't know what he knew. They didn't know about the Stones.

Tony moved a little closer. One hand on the back of Peter's head, his thumb brushed through the kid's hair. "It's normal to miss him, bud. You think May doesn't still—"

"It's not..." Peter shook his head, causing Tony's hand to fall down to his shoulder instead. "It's... I can't explain. You wouldn't understand."

The inside of Tony's lip was sore where his teeth had been grazing and biting, giving an outlet to his own nerves. "I do, buddy. I understand. It's..." He blew out some air, centering himself. "It's unreal. Beyond words, beyond explaining. I... Honestly, I thought it might have been a reaction to the anesthetics at first before I— Well, anyway..."

Peter had sat up at that, his eyes red, eyebrows drawn together. His eyes flickered over Tony's face, studying him while his jaw moved like he was gritting his teeth.

Tony squeezed his shoulder. "All I mean is that all this, magic tricks and... and Infinity Stones, their effects, it's not logical. It's not something we understand yet. Maybe we will one day. If you want to..." Tony shrugged. "We could try and figure out the energy structure of—"

"You saw something?" Peter whispered.

Tony swallowed hard, fighting his instincts to look away, to reach for his glasses, something to shield the uncertainty that had been plaguing him for the past few months.

Peter's eyebrows twitched. "When you... did you see something? When you... did the thing?"

"Did the thing?" He dipped his head at Peter, trying for some humor. Inappropriate, outrageous, the cliché he was supposed to embody.

"When you... when you snapped the gauntlet. When you died..." Peter sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes never leaving Tony's face. "You saw something then?"

Tony swallowed hard. "I didn't die, kid."

"You... you were gone. The arc it was—"

"The nano housing unit's structural integrity was destroyed by the stones. I didn't die, buddy. I— Hey..." Tony moved a little closer, his arm now wrapped around Peter's shoulder. His other hand cupped the kid's face. Peter's breathing had become uneven, panicked almost. "It's okay, kid. Just breathe. It's all good. I'm right here."

Peter nodded like he wanted to believe him, hot tears running down his cheeks onto Tony's hand. He might have tried to hide his tears from Tony before, but now that didn't seem to matter anymore. Just like it hadn't mattered after that last battle. Tony would never forget the fear on Peter's face on the battlefield that day. The way he had been curled up in a chair next to his hospital bed. It was the stuff his nightmares were made off, causing the kid that kind of pain, only second to those memories from Titan.

No, the kid was way past hiding his tears. His eyes were glued to Tony's face. Calmly, Tony mimicked for Peter to breathe in, hold the air, then breathe out. It wasn't like Peter didn't know what to do. This wasn't their first rodeo. Over the years, they'd been here more often than Tony really cared to admit.

They sat there for a while as Peter's heartbeat slowed, as his tears dried, his eyes a little more focused. It took effort for Tony to keep a light smile on his face as he looked right at Peter, not to pull away now. It took effort not to lie to the kid's face like he had been lying to himself, avoiding the trauma, the toll that day had taken on him.

"I do know, buddy. I... I did see it. Or at least I... I guess it was likely the same."

"You saw someone?"

"Yeah," Tony breathed. "My mom."

Peter's eyes widened. "Your... your mom?"

"Yeah." Tony nodded, trying not to think of her face now. "It was just a short flash. She didn't say anything. Just stood here and I... Come here, buddy." Tony pulled him close enough to wrap both arms around him. "I'm not sure, but I think it was the Soul Stone. The orange glow. Did you see that?"

Peter nodded against his chest and Tony hummed in agreement.

"Yeah, must have been that one. I think it just lets you see the people you love, the ones that are already gone. You know, what's in your heart."

Peter's hand shot up but not in time to stifle the sobs that bubbled out of him, deep and agonizing. It caught Tony by surprise. The only thing he could think of was to pull Peter a little tighter against him, mumbling soothing words, trying to calm him down.

"It's okay to miss them, bud. It's okay." When he kept his voice low, it was less likely to shake or worse, break.

"But I didn't... I didn't see them... My mom and dad." He shuffled in Tony's arms. "I loved them. I... I swear. I just... it was all so fast and I... I didn't know. I just didn't think and—"

"Oh buddy, shh. That's not... Maybe..." Tony blew out a breath, cursing himself. His chin was resting on top of Peter's head, his eyes burning for the kid. "Maybe it doesn't work like that, hm? Maybe it's not who you love. And maybe it's just one person, hm? I only saw one person."

"But Ned he... he saw his dad and... and all his grandparents and then..." Peter sucked in a few breaths, his voice muffled against Tony's chest. "He asked me if I saw my parents, too, and I... I lied. I said I did but— You can't tell May, please."

Tony pressed his eyes shut, his heart breaking for the pain the kid had been harboring.

"I swear, I love them," Peter mumbled. "I do. I don't... I don't know why... why they weren't there, why I didn't think, why—"

"Oh buddy, no, no, no. Come here...." Tony grabbed him by both his shoulders, maneuvering him in a way that Peter could look at him. "Hey, look at me for a moment. How old were you, hm? When they died?"

"I..." he frowned, fingers brushing away his tears. "Like... like 4..."

"Do you even remember what they looked like? I don't mean from pictures just... memories of them?"

Peter's eyes filled with more tears his chin trembling.

"Hey, no, I don't... Pete, it's not your fault if you don't, okay? You were so tiny. Just think how tiny Morgan is. If I had—" His lips slammed shut as he pushed the thought out of his mind. "Maybe it has nothing to do with what's in your heart, okay? Maybe it's all up here, hm? What you remember?" He tapped Peter's temple a couple of times, not looking away from him. "We just don't know. But I promise you, it's nothing you did wrong, okay?"

There was reluctance from Peter as he huffed and pressed his face back against Tony's chest.

One hand in his hair, Tony gave it a ruffle then softly tapped a finger against the back of Peter's head. "I know that big brain of yours is trying to rationalize everything that happened, but you gotta trust me with this, kid. This is not on you. I promise. I'm sure if love would have been enough you would have seen them."

Peter didn't say anything, he only held onto Tony, hands balled up in his jacket. The wet grass, the chilly October night, all of that didn't matter anymore. Tony would sit through a lot worse if it could take some of the pain away.

He still had his chin resting in Peter's hair. The kid had calmed down, his breathing even now, the sobs had subsided. Just when Tony was starting to wonder if he had fallen asleep did Peter's stomach give a rumbled that must have echoed through all of Queens.

"Wow! I think I'm gonna have to call animal control and warn them, just in case they get a bunch of calls for a starving wild animal running loose in Queens."

Peter snorted. "Don't be an ass, Tony..." The tiny giggle the kid had let slip, gave Tony hope, but it was forgotten just as fast. With a heavy sigh, Peter shook his head, his voice muffled in Tony's shirt. "You think it's too late? To drive out to the lake house tonight?"

His hand was still in Peter's hair, brushing back and forth through the strands. "Not if you stay till Monday..."

Peter's chest vibrated with another laugh.

"Fine," Tony sighed extensively. "Sunday night then?" He craned his neck a bit, trying to get a glimpse of Peter's reaction. "Only if you want to, buddy."

"I do," Peter nodded. "I do want to."

By the time they had left the city, Peter was curled up on the passenger seat, eyes closed. He looked peaceful like that, at ease.

Tony blew out a quiet sigh as his eyes went back to the dark road. There was no point in pretending like things would be all dandy now. It wouldn't as simple as this, to have one talk and voila, trauma gone. No, this would take time but that was okay.

Time, they had.

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