#also like minor teaser for my next fic even though I didn’t try to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ddaehyeon · 3 years

Text

kalopsia; s. wb + reader + k. ty

pairing: seo woobin + reader + kim taeyoung

genre: angst, fluff, hanahaki au

word count: 10.4k

warnings: blood, hospital visit, light cursing, mentions of sickness, death, anxiety, and alcohol/drinking

summary: in each passing day that you grew fonder of taeyoung, more petals would come out of your lips. your heart, a garden of the most beautiful flowers, only that it was also a reminder of your unrequited love. and with the withering petals, woobin can't bear to simply watch.

-- video teaser; story playlist; masterlist; taglist form 🥀

a/n: my longest fic so far! aaaa this is for a fic exchange with the amazing @arieswonjin. ilysm <3 i enjoyed writing this a lot and i hope we can do more exchanges in the future! also, special thanks to @starrycrvty who helped me with the editing process and cheered me up while i was losing a braincell in the development of the scenes. you’re awesome and ily. <3

hope you will enjoy this ride. send me feedback through my ask/reblogs! i’ll appreciate it a lot :>

taglist: @bunnyseongmin

[ will edit this again in the future; ]

regardless of how the day was already ending, flowers seemed to not lose their vibrancy. whenever a gust of air blew by, it would dance along with the wind’s melody. you took a breath, the floral scent easing your body which was probably hugged with nothing but fatigue out of the ruthless writing sessions you gave yourself for hours.

a mélange of colors in the sky; the red hue engulfing the orange tint. it was funny how despite that war of colors, in the end, the sky will turn pitch-black with scattered twinkling stars.

sure, spring was one of the most beautiful seasons. but that small amount of fondness for the aforementioned season will never be enough to make you want to experience it for the whole year. life played favorites though— it was spring for you all year round.

you smiled to yourself, trying to shrug off the thought. good thing you weren’t in your room and the sidewalk wasn’t the quietest place to be at during this hour. it offered a space for distractions. most shops were closing, students were to go home from long hours of studying, workers with a weariness that yours couldn’t match walking to hubs for some sort of leisure activities. if you were in some kind of company work, you’d probably be in the same position. going for a drink or two with friends after working hours. but well, you weren’t.

instead of a bustling office requiring formal attire; you were usually in your pajamas, musing about life and writing about it through means of prose and poetry. a young published author who was known for having a great appreciation for flowers. in a few months, another book will be launched under your name. its spine holding all the papers inked by your love, not for flowers or anything else, but for a childhood friend who seemed to not have taken notice of the flower that began growing in your lungs— a rose.

reaching the convenience store, you contemplated which instant food would serve as your dinner tonight. ordered food seemed to have bored out your taste buds, a little change was needed. and to say, probably a more unhealthy choice. maybe a dosirak would do or a kimbap and peel sausage.

as you were to enter, a call of your name put your feet to a halt. you turned to look at the speaker. “oh hey, woobin?”

a weak smile graced his lips, opening the door for you. he spoke after the both of you had entered the store. “tired of ordered meals?”

“kind of,” you replied, a sigh punctuating your words. you walked up to the aisle of dosirak. the sight of it made you swiftly cross it out of your options. you wanted something else. “how about you?”

“craved for ice cream,” answered woobin who, unlike you, had made his mind in settling with a pint of almond ice cream.

grabbing some triangle kimbaps, you looked at him with a raised brow. “wouldn’t that harm your ever so majestic voice?”

if you made money through books, woobin earned his through singing. it ranged from covers to original song compositions. he was quite popular with all the ballad songs he covered that without a lie was a heart-melter. if home and serenity would be defined using a voice, woobin’s would be the perfect definition for it.

“not really.” a chuckle was heard from him as he watched you grab a cup of instant ramyun. “well, wouldn’t that harm your ever so wonderful brain?”

you shook your head but laughed at the remark. woobin had been your friend for quite a long time, probably one of the closest. light and playful banters seemed to have become a part of your usual talks.

walking towards the counter, you settled your items which the worker scanned quickly. the amount flashed by the small screen, and you pulled your wallet out to pay. woobin followed shortly.

“a healthy alternative after ice cream?” you asked, noticing a herbal medicine pouch being placed in his bag.

woobin hunched his shoulders up, and proceeded to go out of the store.

a soft breeze welcomed you as you stepped out. the sidewalk was no longer as busy as it was earlier and the sky was losing its colors bit by bit as if the flickering lights in the queued lampposts were sucking it all.

“so how is it coming out?” woobin asked as he walked beside you. your apartment and his were only a few blocks away. his apartment was inside a street, away from the main road filled with noises coming from horns and speeding cars, while yours was in a complex near the road. you liked watching people from up the balcony, it was like watching a film, only that everything that was happening was real and only the made-up dialogues of the strangers were sheer fiction.

“minor editings left,” you replied. “also, next week the possible art for the cover will be out. want to check it out with me?”

he didn’t reply right after as if he was mentally checking his schedule, weighing if he was free or not. though his answer indicated that the things he had to do had flexible deadlines. “sure, just tell me when.”

“i’ll call you once they message me about it.” a cough ended your sentence, you covered your mouth as you did so. something smooth touching your palm. it was happening… again.

“are you alright?” concern evident on woobin’s face, he went closer to you. his hand on your back, rubbing circles to ease your coughing.

but he was aware it would not be enough to stop it. a rub or any sort of medicine wouldn’t stop it. like how will those be enough to stop a flower from blooming in your lungs?

it was the reason why even though you admired the beauty of spring, you also disliked it.

flowers were in full bloom during spring. the way each petal was colored was pleasing to the eye. however, such beauty should have just stayed where they were supposed to be. on the ground, decorating the world with its vibrant color. it should only be there instead of clinging onto someone's lungs after failing to get their love returned.

hanahaki, a disease that causes someone to cough up flower petals when their love is one-sided.

there were different stages of it. at first, it was only a mere cough. something one would mistake for a regular cough. until petals come along with it on the next stage. followed by a mix of blood, acute chest pain, and shortness of breathing in the last.

two ways to resolve it. either undergo a surgery which will cost a fortune at the risk of wiping out not only your emotions but also the memory of all people you are close with or have your love reciprocated. inability to obtain any of the mentioned cures will result in the most unfortunate event. no more pain from the flower sprouting in your chest. no ache, coming from the bitter taste of being reminded every single night that your love wasn’t reciprocated— death.

“i’m alright.” it took quite a while before your coughing subsided. you were sure petals were already accumulated on your hand. bringing your hand down, you let go of the red petals. luckily, no blood. but you didn’t expect less. this disease had been giving you restless nights lately, worsening and worsening.

a sigh left woobin’s lips as he shook his head. “that’s not the look of someone alright for me.”

the rest of the walk was silent. woobin insisted on walking you home, to which you had no power to decline. even if you told him no, he still ended up doing so.

by the time you reached the front of your unit, night had already won the clash in the sky. the stars glimmering above at their triumph.

“don’t work up until late,” woobin reminded.

you smiled, wishing you could tell him that it wasn’t the writing that made you get less rest every evening. it was the rose that inhabited your lungs. “i will not.”

“here,” said woobin, handing you the bag of the things he bought earlier.

the ice cream was no longer of its same form as it was earlier. its mist soaked the insides of the plastic bag. “and why are you giving it to me?”

“just take it. you know in movies heartbroken people would eat ice cream as they mope around.”

the lighthearted remark made you laugh. woobin had his ways to make you feel better. “and what about the medicine?”

“you’re probably sad, but that won’t mean that you should not take care of yourself.” he was aware of your feelings for someone else. he was aware of the red roses in your chest. he was aware that your feelings weren’t reciprocated.

“makes sense.” you flashed him a smile, scrambling on your bag to take out one of the triangle kimbaps. the item tossed to his direction which he caught smoothly. “take that at least.”

“well, thank you?” he gazed at the food you gave him before returning the smile. “have a good night, y/n. call me if you need anything.”

you hummed as a response, watching woobin make his way to the stairs, descending afterward. another gust of wind passed by and you rushed to go inside. staring at the now melted ice cream, you shook your head. a laugh escaping your lips as you closed the door.

how long has it been? you thought.

collapsing on the bed, you stared at the ceiling. the coughing had already stopped, yet the burning pain in your chest remained.

what was the flower again?

a rose?

maybe the stabbing ache was caused by its thorns that came to hug your lungs. you sighed as if that would altogether pull out the suffocating sensation— of course, it wouldn’t. it would never.

a curt beep on your phone pulled you out of your cloudy thoughts, reaching for it to read the notification. a message from one of your friends which read,

it’s your debut book’s first anniversary today! congrats, y/n.

for a moment, your lips curled into a faint smile, so weak that it didn’t even last for a minute. sending a quick reply to show gratitude over the thought, you allowed yourself to drown over the same thoughts.

that book with inked poetry all meant to deliver a single message— your feelings for taeyoung. the words laced in each rhyme was a cover of the affection you had for him, and the petals you cough each night was his answer.

a childhood friend who you used to be neighbors with. he still lived under the comforts of his parents’ home, while you moved to live alone in an apartment, desperately seeking independence.

or maybe seeking for a way to not see his face every single day and be reminded that his favorite flower, a rose, had been blooming in your lungs.

the brightness taeyoung had never seemed to fade, his smile still carried sunlight of its own. a contagious one that would make anyone have the same smile (but maybe not as bright). his bubbliness was a comfort. whenever around him, the butterflies causing chaos in your stomach would make you forget about the evening ache he was subconsciously bringing.

taeyoung, ever since you were young, loved books and flowers. you preferred other things though, but somehow you found yourself conforming to what he liked. being the person you spent most of your time with, his interest became yours. whenever he would tell you about something he became inclined to, you would check it as quick, forcing yourself to like it. it was a repeated action that was implanted as a habit. in the process of trying to be his ideal person, your own identity was thrown away. a trap filled with nothing but thorns of his favorite flower.

shifting to your side, your eyes landed on the wall just above your working table. photographs of roses were stuck on it, along with verses other people might find painfully beautiful. you knew your words better though. its beauty was a mere delusion. hiding behind the pretty words were ugly cries— your reality.

another cough, a petal escaping from your lips. it danced in the air as it was freed, only to meet the cold floor of your room. with flowers blooming in the chest, you closed your eyes drifting to sleep. the pain no longer mattered as it was the usual sensation.

a soft instrumental had taken over your apartment. the sun was already up, its light filtering through the blinds. your potted plants were probably thankful for its generosity. you took a sip of your coffee, staring at the few words written in the new document reserved for a new manuscript. writing, or at least conceptualizing the main theme, of your next book was your top priority today. however, the continuous notifications coming from your close peers dragged you out of your bubble every single time.

with you celebrating the first anniversary of your debut book (which basically marked the day of your debut as a published writer), receiving messages was plain inevitable. your editor even asked if you’d be up for a drink later this night. an offer you turned down. silence and alone time this evening were everything you craved for.

putting your laptop on rest, you grabbed your own copy of withered roses, your book. it was silly how you decided to have perfectly blooming and lively roses as its cover when it contained the very title, your own withered roses hiding through beautiful verses.

flipping through the pages, you stopped on a certain poetry. undeniably, one of your favorites. it was one of the first poems that you wrote for this collection. grabbing a paper and a pen, you scribbled the words down, the same words still describing your situation perfectly. and maybe that was the reason why your condition was worsening.

you stuck the paper on the wall, just beside a photograph of a blue rose. for a moment, you stared at it, smiling at the words as if those were some kind of lost friends who rekindled with you. you smiled as if those were something that you should be smiling at.

three doorbells and a few knocks. a heavy sigh came out of your lips, tearing your eyes away from the poem. slow steps towards the door, the person on the other seemed rather impatient for the doorbell continuously made a sound. it was enough for another breath to escape the confines of your mouth.

swinging the door open, your eyes widened. the sight penetrating quickly to your senses and the sensation you hated the most overpowering you, your heartbeat loud. really loud. “taeyoung?”

for him to be able to give you the most wonderful feeling of warm cheeks and butterflies and still be able to poison you using his favorite flower lethal to your body, you wondered when it would end.

“it’s withered roses’ first anniversary!” his smile was a band-aid, too fleeting of a cure for you. he lifted a pot of cycnoches orchids, something that was probably from his parent’s flower shop. “here’s a gift for you.”

“thank you.” as he handed you the pot, you gave him enough space to enter your unit. placing it just beside the other plants you had, all coming from their shop, you turned to look at taeyoung. a pout appearing in your countenance. “you should have brought food.”

taeyoung scratched his head at your sudden words, a sheepish smile curving on his lips. “well, we can order.”

at the sight of a slightly flustered taeyoung, a string of laughter became your immediate response. “i was kidding.”

you went back to the couch to sit with taeyoung following you shortly. the music playing in your room had long ago stopped, something you only noticed after taeyoung came. after your awareness came to hug you once again.

his eyes wandered as if it was his first time in your unit. it was definitely not his first visit, to count how many times he’d been there was also impossible. just like how you frequented their flower shop, he was usually in your unit as well. maybe it was due to him being used to your company. childhood friends, former neighbors— inseparable, but in a manner that went nothing beyond romantic feelings. at least to his side.

glancing at him, you followed where his gaze was fixated on. it was focused on the wall that held photographs of roses and the poem you scribbled earlier from your book.

“wasn’t that the eighth poem in your book?” intrigued, he looked at you with a brow raised.

you didn't have to meet his gaze. a smile slowly crept out of your visage. it didn't hold an emotion though, more like a simple forced curve. "it is."

"i love it." it was a genuine remark, but somehow, instead of giving you a warm feeling, it did the opposite. standing up, he reached for the paper, detaching it from the wall. the words slipping out of his tongue as he read it out loud.

heat-haze; sunrays visible at the nighttime daydream under the cloud of deep distance built a sensation of unrequited affection innumerable actions-- satisfied, captured by mere existence. nevertheless, the heart was jinxed in a presence, a love, i cannot withdraw from.

as the final four lines were uttered, he looked at you in the eyes, a hint of gloom clouding his misty orbitals. he had the poem memorized, but it was only the words he had carved in his mind. the feelings sealed with it, unnoticed.

taeyoung was the reason why you began writing. a simple comment of his saying that you would make a good author and your words were all prettily laid out made you want to write.

or perhaps it was not the writing you were chasing for, rather the speaker who told you that he wished to see more of your writing.

for others, writing could be a form of escape. to be under a little spell that would pull someone out of their reality. you wished you were the same. you wished your writing wasn't your reality.

anywhere you go, you were surrounded by your reality. the potted plants you should not be taking care of if it wasn't for his interest in plants and flowers. the book that was published a year ago and the soon to be published one. the colors that accented your unit which he said was such a relaxing palette. the words in your head. the flower in your chest. it was the reality made out of nothing but the person you loved.

“wait.” taeyoung’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. he was peering over petals of red roses that were on your table.

it seemed like you forgot to clean it up earlier. well, you didn’t expect anyone to actually go to your house. such a realization was thought late.

“were you playing with roses?” taeyoung asked, frowning as he looked at it.

you’d consider that a stupid question, but taeyoung didn’t know a thing about your condition so you let it pass. there was no way in hell you’d tell him about it now. not yet. “yes.”

“so how was it?” the excitement and giddiness leaking in his tone as he plopped down next to you on the couch didn’t help. what was he even referring about? your hanahaki disease? what? as if hearing your question, he clarified his query, “does he love you?”

ah, the popular he loves me, he loves me not.

there was no need for that though, the petals you vomit each night was a clear answer. you smiled, leaning back to get seated more comfortably. “he doesn’t.”

the way those two words left your lips surprised you. no hint of hurt, sadness, or anything— it was laced with a calm tone as if retreating, surrendering, accepting. will it really be your fate?

taeyoung sighed, the smile he once had melting away. “don’t worry, it’s just a silly game anyway. the person you love probably loves you too.”

you turned to look at him. a mistake. kind eyes met yours, reassuring you of something you had already known for so long was false. there was no need to hang into that ray of hope when you were aware that it was not the case.

eyes glossy with the tears that never dared to fall, you offered him a tight-lipped smile. “thank you.”

he grinned, which you assumed was out of relief before he looked at your wall once again. “why use roses though? there are other flowers out there.”

“well, isn’t it the first flower you’d think of when you hear the word love?” you replied. “it means a lot more depending on its color, but in simple terms, it just means love and romance.”

“you seem to know a lot about it,” he remarked, not tearing his gaze away from the photograph. “why blue out of all colors?” he asked referring to the photograph you had on your wall.

“it stands for an impossible miracle.” a clear depiction of your situation. no word followed that sentence, and good thing taeyoung didn’t ask any further about why. maybe it was due to his perception that poetry writers had other symbolism hidden behind their verses, even when there was nothing and the message was just in front of their readers.

“roses are wonderful, aren’t they?”

not when they are blooming in your chest. not when its thorn embraces your lungs. not when it suffocates you. your thoughts were loud in your head. but you knew you can’t blame it for inhabiting your body. you can’t even have taeyoung blamed for it either. it was the universe’s fault for laying such a disease in humanity. “they truly are.”

“it’s my favorite,” taeyoung mused.

there was a smile that sat on your lips, a peck of gloom decorating its corners. “i know.”

how could you not when its petals were the ones that kept on coming out of your lips every evening?

a ringing coming from a device shattered the silence in your apartment. but this time, it wasn’t from yours. it was from taeyoung who was now about to leave your unit, his parents had called him to go and do his tasks in the flower shop. seemed like he had forgotten about it, considering that he’d been with you for almost an hour.

“take care and have fun for the rest of the day!” taeyoung ruffled your hair and left. his touch lingering.

your room suddenly felt empty. as if taeyoung had taken all the vibrancy it had after stepping out of it. taeyoung was your paradox— a home that housed nothing but emotions you shouldn’t regard as home, but you did. he was your home.

you coughed, a petal threatening to escape. the windpipe blocked, your chest tightening. a sorrowful smile was your only answer to the ache that was resurfacing. your gaze didn't falter, still locked on the photograph of the blue rose. to no one in particular, few words were whispered, “they are beautiful.”

“remind me again why i’m here with you?” woobin looked at the almost empty store; sleepwears displayed from the first showcase up to the last rack. it was a week after the first anniversary of your book, things had seemed to tranquil much more.

shopping during the working hours on weekdays was certainly one of the best things. the absence of people led to different advantages like having no long queue to the cashier, no people to deal with as you browse the clothes, and overall just serene shopping.

you didn’t mind it when a salesperson would go and ask you about what type or design you were looking for, they were probably getting bored having to stand for a long time and entertain just a few passing potential customers. the mall’s theme song was playing from a distant speaker, almost inaudible and muffled by the sweet piano music playing in the shop itself. keeping it up to the theme of the shop, if there was a bed in there, you’d probably be brought to sleep right after. something you weren’t sure to consider as a good aspect or bad aspect of the clothing store.

“well, you just finished posting another wonderful cover which hit a hundred thousand views in an hour, we must celebrate, right?” you replied as you picked up a pair of pastel plaid pajamas, checking the fabric quality to which you quickly marked as spandex.

woobin reached for the design next to what you picked up, eyeing it with less interest than you had. “but why are we buying pajamas?”

“because i need it.” a chuckle was heard from you after he let go of a sigh at your words. you stepped closer to him, peering over his shoulder to check the design he was checking.

“by the way,” he began, not wanting to ask more as he was aware of your love for comfortable clothes (pajamas being the top of it along with sweaters and hoodies). “i’m applying for a job in this pharmaceutical company located in another town as a medicinal chemist.”

“oh? the one you mentioned before?” you watched him go through another set of sleepwear.

it was a sudden reminder that before being known as the seo woobin who sang various songs in innumerable gigs and had built a name in the music side of youtube, he was the seo woobin who excelled in his major, organic chemistry. for years of him not applying for an actual job as a chemist anywhere and pursuing his dream career, that fact was swept out of your mind.

you met woobin in one of your electives— a chemistry class that you would probably have to retake only if he didn’t help you out. the limited slots in language classes were the ones you put your blame on, but it wasn’t completely that bad. after all, you had ended up making a good friend in the class you despised the most.

“are you going to quit singing?” worry was painted all over your face which earned a soft amused laughter from woobin. you adore his singing a lot, the comfort his mellifluous voice could bring was distinct, something you’d grown ever so fond of.

“you know, i just want to put my degree into proper use.” woobin smiled reassuringly as he tossed you a set of pajamas with the design he guessed was what you were searching for, the one with doodled roses decorating it from bottom to the top. “kind of had the urge to get a secured job.”

the clothing dumped to you went unnoticed as you fired off another question. “what about the album deal? i thought you already had one. what’s going to happen with that?”

“i will still sing.” there was no need to doubt woobin’s calm tone as he said those words. “don’t worry about it. i love singing and i’ll not stop doing it.”

“make sure to.” you walked towards another rack, finally noticing the pajamas woobin had thrown in your way earlier. staring at it for a moment, the initial thoughts about the flower easily came into your head. “this one’s cute. i’ll take it.”

unconvinced, woobin raised a brow at you. “are you sure you found it cute or there’s another reason behind you liking it?”

the other reason he was pertaining to was clear, enough to become a slap rather than a mere reminder. do you really like it or do you simply want the person you like to notice you for having something close to their favorite thing?

feeling lost to your own set of likes seemed like a normal thing. mind plagued with taeyoung’s interests that it mattered more than yours. at this point, you weren’t sure if you were doing it for him to like you back and finally get the fuzzy feeling of being loved back or you were simply desperate to stop the flowers from budding in your chest.

“i like it,” you answered after a long while of spacing out. you even nodded your head as if trying to convince yourself from a statement you weren’t sure whether to label as a lie or a truth.

“if you say so.” an indistinct sigh came across woobin, subtly shaking his head in disbelief. he didn’t go deeper into the topic though, instead uttered some words that made a bright smile grace your lips. “go and choose whichever you want. it’s on me today.”

wearing the new pair of a loose shirt and pajama, you gazed at your reflection. a curve spotted on your lips, satisfied with the new purchase. demeanor dropping as a familiar sensation crawled up to your senses. the calm night was taken aback when your chest began tightening. a petal quickly rising, stuck on your throat afterward as you tried to hold it in. however, it was a failed attempt. the urge strong that you had to run towards the bathroom to release all the petals of the vivid red rose that nurtured in your body, watered with nothing but unreturned affection.

just like any other night, the sickness came to do its visit. its terrible reminder playing in your mind. the blood that mingled with the petals was hard to discern as they were colored in the same hue; it tasted different though.

a ringing in your head as your vision started to blur, not noticing how tears had formed in your eyes as the pain emerged to be stronger than it usually was. the intensifying ache wasn’t the only one that made your tears fall. all your unnoticed efforts, regardless of how big they were, were the ones that brought salty tears. your knees buckled, allowing you to meet the ground unceremoniously. it was getting harder to breathe and the cold bathroom tiles were your only company.

it was a twisted melody. in each cough, petals would escape. it didn’t even take a long time for you to be surrounded by a sea of red petals. what a sickening view, you thought. how do people regard roses as something so beautiful?

a memory.

“dear, taeyoung is outside, waiting for you.” a few knocks on the door accompanied your mother’s call.

it was a hot summer, the sun giving no mercy with its ray as if angry with how it was neglected during the cold seasons. with a few remaining days before the start of a new quarter, you probably had spent most of your time in your room. oftentimes will you go out only at the call of a childhood friend.

“y/n.” as if stepping out of your thoughts, taeyoung had your name wrapped by his cheerful voice. “mom made homemade ice cream. come on, get out of your room already.”

if your own mother wasn’t able to pull you out of your room, taeyoung was. your feet quick to move as you checked on your reflection by the mirror, practicing a smile and some silent dialogues. all to which you weren’t really able to show when you opened the door. a faint blush crept on your cheeks as soon as your gaze landed on the bright smile taeyoung had on his own. butterflies flew free in your stomach, heart pounding.

maybe it was the way taeyoung would talk to you with an unmatched enthusiasm even if your words make no sense. maybe it was because of the vibrancy he had all around him that simply could bring comfort to anyone he was with. maybe it was due to the fact that he had been with you since you were a kid.

or maybe it was just because he was him, kim taeyoung, that your crush began budding as a love. and as soon as it did, his favorite flower, a rose, was caught in your lungs during middle school.

occupied by the sensation, your mind didn’t attend to the continuous doorbells ringing in your apartment. in a few, the door was opened, rushed footsteps along with your name uttered in sheer concern echoed in your unit. with the air knocked out by the relentless flower, from red your vision turned pitch black.

when dusk fell, woobin was already in the hospital with a drink in his hand, which was meant to be given to you. he’d been going back and forth to the hospital and his apartment to bring you food and some other items you needed.

the scene he witnessed last night was still fresh in his mind, the panic lingering. on your cold bathroom floor, you laid unconscious with petals of roses surrounding your figure. he was swift to get help, which ended up with you having to stay for almost a day in the lonely ward. your room making you feel sicker.

“oh, you’re back?” serim, the head nurse and a close friend of woobin, said as he walked towards the other.

woobin nodded, tracing the track he’d been stepping into since this morning. it was as if he could easily go to your room even with eyes closed. serim followed from behind and before he could say a word, woobin had already found your room empty. finally, he offered the nurse attention. “where’s y/n? already discharged?”

“yes, they just went to talk with their doctor for a few more reminders.” serim shook his head disapprovingly. “they should stay longer, but they seem like a very busy person.”

“y/n should just follow their doctor.” a sigh punctuated woobin’s sentence.

“and you should too,” said serim.

woobin began walking his way back to the nurse station reception to wait for you. “my case is different.”

“you’re slowly losing your voice because of your own sickness.” serim’s sigh was way heavier than woobin’s, his orbitals painted with worry. being one of woobin’s closest friends, he knew all about it. “orchids are blooming in your lungs, how are you different?”

a glare was darted to serim’s direction which became woobin’s sole reply since they both saw you approaching them. serim hunched his shoulders up, shaking his head once again before walking away.

“thank you for taking care of me,” you told woobin who handed you the drink he bought outside.

“of course,” woobin said, leading the way out.

there weren't a lot of people in the lobby. only a few were there, either the nurses turning for their night shifts or the relatives of those people staying in the hospital for the night.

“it’s getting worse, isn’t it?” woobin’s words slowed down your pace, your head turned to him as he continued. “shouldn’t you start trying to move on and finding someone who can actually love you back?”

“what do you mean?”

woobin shrugged. “it seems like it’s the only way for you to be properly healed.”

yes, moving on and falling for someone else was a considered cure as well. a change of feelings could remove the flower naturally. but doing so was easier said than done.

a sad smile became evident on your brim. how could you do that? you thought. “i can’t just fall in love with someone like it’s nothing, woobin.”

“give me a chance then.”

woobin’s words were powerful enough to make your feet stop from moving, to catch your breath and make it halt. it can’t be. you looked at him confused, wishing that you misunderstood what he said. you wished that it would be his regular sentences as he tried to make you feel better. you wished what you were thinking was a mere thought, an idea, a false gut feeling. “woobin?”

it was a question that didn’t need any elaboration. the simple call of his name with such perplexed tone was enough as a query. the same gloomy smile on his lips matched what you had earlier, accompanied by his faint chuckles. “yes,” to your horror, he confirmed. he let go of a breath, something that gave him a boost to finally utter the words he’d been meaning to say. “i’m in love with you and all i want is for the flowers in your chest to stop blossoming.”

“that means…”

to experience the same thing you had been experiencing. to give someone the same taste of your suffering. to plant a flower in someone’s chest and water it every day as you were failing to return their provided affection. it was something you didn’t wish to do, an extremely unfavorable idea which reminded you of how the universe had been unfair from the very start.

“yes, and they aren’t beautiful.” a tight-lipped smile became apparent on his countenance as he stared at the glass doors of the hospital. a few more steps and both of you will be out of the place the two of you frequented on different days, but for the same means— a fleeting cure for the ache caused by hanahaki. “the pain we’re both carrying out of unrequited love. it isn’t beautiful, y/n.”

a lump in your throat stopped any possible reply from coming out of your lips. you wanted to apologize, but an apology from taeyoung wasn’t the thing you’d want to hear from him after you confess and you assumed such wouldn’t give comfort to woobin as well. an apology wouldn’t be enough when you were already striping away someone with their lives.

rather untimely, the door opened, revealing taeyoung. he was holding a basket of flowers, probably for some kind of delivery. with hinted concern, he walked towards you and woobin. “what are you doing here?”

“stomach ache.” regardless of your mangled thoughts, it was a surprise that you were able to respond as soon. it was as if such sickness was a practiced lie.

“is that so?” taeyoung looked at woobin to confirm and the older just nodded not wanting to speak more. he turned to you, his worry dropping a few levels, but was still obvious. “let me just bring this flower to a friend and i’ll walk you home. will that be alright?”

you looked at woobin, silently asking if he would be okay with that. it was such a silly act, of course, he would be against it. but what can he do? just like him, the person you had grown fond of hasn't reciprocated your feelings yet. both of you probably wishing the same thing— for the flowers to wither and be gone. for the restless nights to end. to be loved back. the only difference was woobin was so focused on you that he had forgotten about his condition which was worsening at the same rate as yours.

he patted your shoulder. “sure, i need to head somewhere else anyway. get home safely?”

“i will, you too, woobin.” you gave woobin a smile, guilt sitting in your stomach which was continuously twisting.

woobin weakly mirrored the feature before turning his back to you and taeyoung. as he was stepping out of the establishment, he looked at the twinkling stars, hoping this night would be kinder. but he was certain he’d be the one coughing out orchids tonight, probably worse than your roses.

the stars from above watched you and taeyoung walk on the now empty sidewalk. even without the illumination coming from the lampposts, it was all so bright. all in gratitude for the moon which served as a ball of shining light in the clear night sky.

"you've been sick since we were kids, but you never told me what with." taeyoung broke the silence, uncertain if he should go further. “was it really because of stomach ache earlier?”

a chill ran down your spine, making you inwardly shiver. that wasn’t the talk you were so ready to face. and after what happened last night, you can’t simply bring another lie. however, telling taeyoung everything wasn’t something you planned to do as well. afraid that rejection would become the final straw.

taeyoung stopped dead on his tracks, looking at you with nothing but sheer concern. “is there anything bothering you?”

you gave him a smile which was obviously forced. “don’t worry about it.” you urged him to continue to walk and he did, but just as you thought that you were already safe from his questions, he asked another.

“it’s not a stomach ache wasn’t it?” hands on his back, his gaze was fixated on the road. “what was it, y/n?”

maybe it was time to tell taeyoung about it? maybe— “hanahaki.” the words subconsciously slipped out of your tongue.

“what?” surprised by the mention of the disease, his eyes were wide when he whipped his head to your direction. “you mean… your love is unrequited?”

taeyoung was quick to catch the gist of the disease. it was pretty much a popular sickness that had probably made some of his other friends suffer. the only thing he wasn’t quick to get was… who your feelings were for.

“woobin doesn’t like you back?” he asked, snapping you out of your thoughts which was purely of practicing the possible explanations if he ended up recognizing your feelings for him. and apparently, he didn’t.

it was your turn to shoot him a look. “what?”

“don’t you like woobin?” he averted his gaze and it trailed back to the road. “i mean the two of you seem like really close friends and you’re together most of the time.”

you didn’t know whether you should be relieved or not. but since you were still unprepared to offer any explanation, you just went with the flow. a bitter smile coming to your lips. your head had his name on your sentence, regardless of how you uttered another man’s name. “yes, i like woobin. but it seems like he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“maybe you should… try moving on?”

the way taeyoung suggested the same thing made you laugh, confusing the person beside you. to move on, huh? was that what the universe wanted you to do? to move on? a smile lingered on your visage, as you stepped on the stairs with taeyoung following you behind. it was just funny how he thought you were in love with woobin, when in fact the flower he adored the most was living in your lungs. that he was the person you were in love with, not any other person.

stopping at the front step, the worry that sat on his orbitals didn’t waver. the look asking if you’d be alright tonight— you already knew the answer. “take care, okay? if you need anything, just call me. good night.”

as soon as you closed the door, it began. the coughing that seemingly just waited for you to step into your unit came rushing. a petal waving in the air before meeting the ground. “i need your love, taeyoung. i badly need it.”

the smell of freshly done pancakes wafted up to your bed, a few noises coming from the kitchen followed. it was a gentle alarm that pushed you to wake up and get out of your bed. too groggy, a foot still on the dream you were having, you didn’t think that whoever was in the kitchen could be a thief or anything. well, who in their proper mind would cook food for the owner of the house if they were only to snatch things after?

a few days ago, you had an extreme case of hanahaki, something that led you to stay in the hospital overnight. after that, it had seemed to subside or at least be more gentle during the evening, resulting in more hours of sleep.

“woobin?” you called his name as you watched him turn off the stove, placing the fluffy pancakes onto a plate. there was already a hot chocolate ready for you to drink. you didn’t even question how he got inside. probably jungmo, the landowner, gave him the code to your room. oh, talk about privacy.

his smile was as warm as the morning sunrays. “good morning.” his voice was a little hoarse, normally you wouldn’t really pay attention to that. when he recorded songs too much in a day, he’d end up with such. but now that you knew he was experiencing hanahaki, a question hung in your head. was it because of the coughing? your thoughts dropped at the sound of his voice, still mellow regardless. “i’ve cooked you breakfast.”

“don’t you have work to do?” you asked, remembering how during the past days he’d been telling you about his new work— the slot in that pharmaceutical company as a medicinal chemist. you dragged a chair before occupying it, looking at him as he placed all the things he used in the sink. a curve became visible on your lips as your eyes fell to what he prepared. it was just pancakes, but it was woobin’s pancakes. he was such an amazing cook, you could vouch for that. “thank you by the way.”

“work? ah yeah.” he took the seat adjacent to yours, a cup of coffee in his hands. he grinned at you and you swore, your heart was in ultimate chaos when you heard his next words. “i took on the job of taking care of you for free starting today.”

sunlight filtered through the glass door of the flower shop, highlighting the wide variety of spring flowers. ranunculus, tulips, and calla lilies were all displayed along with other non-seasonal plants. there weren't a lot of customers coming, given that there were flowers available to be picked up in some public gardens. regardless, there were still a few who would come and get flowers arranged for some special occasions. but then again, it was just morning. it was rather too early to judge the possible count of customers later.

“jungmo’s coughing out petals now,” allen, one of the workers in the flower shop. said.

taeyoung looked at him, pausing his actions of tying a yellow ribbon in the bouquet of tulips. with a brow raised, he asked, “hanahaki?”

putting the freshly done arrangement of peonies, allen tapped on the counter which called the attention of the delivery man. he pointed out the card which contained the address and watched the other go out to deliver the item. dragging a stool to sit on, he stretched his arms. “seems to be. he’s coughing out petals of his crush’s favorite flower, crocus. i don’t think it’s a mere crush now though.”

“oh, so the flower that blooms in a body experiencing hanahaki would be the favorite flower of the person they like?” taeyoung asked as he finished the bouquet he was working on. he retrieved stems of roses and cut them nicely, removing the thorns and excess leaves.

“yes,” allen replied. “you like roses right?”

taeyoung only nodded, a memory alighting in his head. it can’t be—

“that means the person who likes you, but ends up with a one-sided love would end up having roses in their chest,” allen continued, causing taeyoung’s hand to stop from moving. the younger’s eyes fixated on the collection of red roses in his hands.

“it’s my favorite,” taeyoung mused.

there was a smile that sat on your lips, a peck of gloom decorating its corners. “i know.”

the flower growing in your chest was his favorite flower, roses?

it was him all this time?

right at that moment, there was one thing taeyoung would want to address himself as. an idiot. realizations came crashing to him like a powerful wave that held no mercy. it was ice cold, his body freezing at each thought that his mind welcomed.

the petals he found on your desk weren't there because of a silly game of he loves me, he loves me not. it was the petals you coughed out and forgot to clean.

“are you okay?” allen asked, momentarily snapping taeyoung out of his daze.

the twisting on taeyoung stomach was unbearable. his heart racing not with flutters, but rather with anxious thoughts. he was the cause of your pain?

with an almost inaudible voice, taeyoung let out of his horror. “y/n likes me.”

continuous taps on the keyboard, words appearing on the screen only for the flow to stop with punctuation. in sync, the doorbell rang. you no longer wondered who it was. it had always been him.

you stood up and shuffled towards the door, opening it before welcoming the male with a warm curve in your face. “it’s lunch already?”

woobin nodded, handing you a bag of still hot dishes he cooked probably not more than an hour ago. he followed you as you made your way to the dining area. when the male said he’d be taking care of you starting that specific breakfast, he stuck to his words, visiting you almost every day. the only exception was when he had to meet a producer. his own album was in the process of being finalized.

you placed the bag down and woobin walked towards your cupboard. where to find the things was already memorized. it was as if he was living in the very unit.

“so how’s your morning?” he asked as he placed two plates on the table.

“woke up a bit late, but i was able to finish the last set of poetry i’ve been meaning to write!” the spark in your eyes was a lot brighter than the past days. it was easily contagious as woobin found himself having the same amount of glee. “i’ll print the last parts and let you read, wait.”

woobin shook his head, a smile crossing his brim as he watched you go to your workspace to do what you said. as he finished setting up your lunch, he took a seat and waited for you. just like you, woobin was experiencing fewer symptoms. his voice was no longer that raspy and he was able to post new song covers almost every week regardless of his current busy schedule with other recordings.

“here!” with unwavering enthusiasm, you extended your hand for him to reach the printed papers. you sat on the seat across him, gazing at the food which only made your mouth water. eyes already feeding off the sight of the meat dishes.

“this is quite interesting,” woobin remarked. “is this the last one?”

you nodded at his words when he showed you the last page. “i figured that it could be the best way to end it.”

“it sure does.” woobin served you by putting meat on the top of your rice. “eat up.”

just like the past days, you enjoyed lunch with woobin. a few talks here and there, though most of the time the two of you were silent. not the terrible kind of silence, but a good one. something comforting. and maybe that kind of silence was all you needed.

after the meal, the two of you sat on the couch. the television served as background noise as you run down the things you have to do this afternoon.

“you seem to be happier the past days, did you get yourself another contract?” woobin asked once you were done telling him where to drive you today, the flower shop and to your editor’s place.

“i do?” you caught sight of the lone photograph of roses on your wall. the poetry that accompanied it once was now resting on your table. “i haven’t been coughing recently.” your cheerfulness evident when your eyes wrinkled into crescents as you turned your head towards the direction where woobin was sitting. “maybe he’s starting to like me!”

a soft beam hugged woobin’s visage, contented with the result you were having. for your own flower to stop blooming, that was all he wished for. his mind got him best though, speaking without much thought as he eyed the last poem you wrote once again. “or maybe you’re starting to like him less.”

blinking in confusion, woobin handed you back the printed papers you gave him earlier. it was on the last page. the words were probably a clear indication of your feelings.

zest gone. pen dropped. book closed. lock kept. no word survived.

those words weren’t the most gleeful of words, but it carried freedom. something you’d been wishing you could get out of taeyoung’s labyrinth of roses. something you never knew would finally come to you.

“right?” woobin pulled you out of your own thoughts. “i’ve been coughing less as well and i can guarantee that you’re the only one i like.”

“that means…?”

“you’re slowly moving on, y/n.” woobin gave your head a light pat. his beam growing warmer as he looked at you. “you’re moving on.”

before going to the place where you were to meet your editor, you asked woobin to stop by the flower shop. knowing your editor, she’d probably love some dahlias and irises.

upon entering the shop, the same floral scent you had been accustomed to since you were younger embraced you. however, instead of taeyoung greeting you, the expression in his face— wide eyes after a gasp— was a little perplexing. you raised a brow at him, stepping closer to the counter with woobin following you from behind.

“dah—”

“can we have a moment?” taeyoung’s question interrupted your own set of words.

with a head tilted to the side, you didn’t make an effort to hide your confusion. the seemingly forced smile he had, which was quite too awkward for your liking was not a help at all. you turned to look at woobin, asking if it would be alright for him to wait. “will it be okay?”

“sure.” woobin shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as he could. something he was successful in doing so. “i’ll buy you a drink while i wait. just send me a message if you’re done.”

“thank you, woobin.” and with those words said, you watched woobin leave the establishment. as soon as he did, your stomach sunk. there was no one else in the flower shop, it seemed like the other staff had already left.

taeyoung gestured to you to sit on an empty stool next to the counter, but you declined. instead, you leaned to it, urging him to speak what he wanted to talk about. he wasn’t the kind to be hesitant with such, but now, it was as if his tongue was tied in hundreds of knots and words can’t just be delivered.

“you’re experiencing hanahaki, right?” a stiff start. not only you, but taeyoung could feel how unnatural it sounded. no cheeky grins, no bright tone. it was flat and dripping with nervousness you weren’t aware taeyoung could be under the state of. “how are you?”

“i’m alright.” you chuckled at his words, letting loose of the already tensed atmosphere. as much as you were nervous for what was to come, you didn’t want it to spread on your formerly cheerful mood. “come on, taeyoung. i’m not going to be mad or anything.”

it partially helped taeyoung who had a small smile on his visage. but his eyes were still unable to meet yours as he locked his gaze on something else, the flowers healthily blooming inside the shop. “you were coughing out… roses, right?”

you hummed as a reply. finally taking the offer to sit. “yes, your favorite.”

“that means that you like me?” taeyoung took the seat next to your stool.

surprisingly, instead of worrying about how your little secret got figured out, you had an opposite feeling. you were relieved. there was no anxiety about him giving you the possibly worst rejection, no concern about how he could possibly shatter a thorned heart.

whatever made him realize such a thing, you were thankful. at least you no longer have to go through excessive explanations.

but there was something you would want to clarify.

“i used to like you a lot,” you said, giving an emphasis to the phrase: used to. a relieved sigh left your lips, satisfied with how everything was happening. it wasn’t as bad as you imagined. “you don’t have to worry now though, i’m gradually moving on.”

“still. you had to suffer from that for years,” he trailed. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay taeyoung.” your tight-lipped smile turned into a genuine one. the moment you shifted your gaze to look at taeyoung, you met his eyes. regardless of the pain it brought you, there was in no way you saw yourself blaming taeyoung. you liked him. and that summed it up. “your brightness was a blessing and never did i regret liking you despite the thorns and petals brought by it.”

his slightly soaked eyes were an indication of his former worry, which was slowly being washed away by a good amount of reassurance. “i’m glad.”

“you no longer have to worry about the roses, taeyoung.” stripping down the photographs on your wall for the past days, you replaced them with other photographs. you were sure the delusion was coming to an end. yes, the roses were indeed beautiful. but its thorn wasn’t as astonishing. “it’s withering.”

a stray tear slipped out of your eye and taeyoung didn’t only catch the tear, his arms were wrapped around you in such a warm hug. you were sure no petals would come out of your lips again. the warmth that embraced your body conveyed a closing home.

it’s time to move out and find a home that has no garden.

you no longer despised the spring. the beautiful flowers surrounding the town were no longer catching distasteful looks from you. your lungs free from spring. hand wrapped around woobin’s, the warm rays of the remaining afternoon sunlight filtered through the thick leaves of the trees the two of you would pass by.

another book was published, all containing the last words for your former muse. the title didn’t hide anything, quite an obvious choice: kalopsia.

three times a week you would go out for a book signing while woobin, now your boyfriend, would fetch you every time. he was busy himself with the recording of his album which was to be released by the end of the month. but he never missed going to the venue where your book signing would take place. by now, he probably had about nine signed copies of your book.

“you experienced hanahaki as well, right?” you asked woobin as you passed by a shop that had orchids hanging on the wall. petals of lush yellow, pink and purple decorating it.

woobin chuckled, taken aback by your unexpected question. “i did.”

“how was it?”

“it was weird. i mean coughing out petals so suddenly.” he looked at you, only to see your furrowed brows. something that made him laugh once again. “what do you expect me to answer?”

“that made you realize that you like me?”

“don’t be silly. even before the first petal left my lips, i knew i already liked you.” a contented smile graced his brim. even before that, the way his heart would thump in his chest as if it had run a marathon, the way a dumb smile would hang on his lips once he saw you, the way he would be subconsciously adoring you while you were busy writing, the way he wanted to be beside you, the way he wished to hold you closer— it all happened before a petal of orchid escaped the confines of his mouth.

a faint blush became apparent on your cheeks, giving it such a cute color. “and up until now you still like me…”

“correction, it’s liked. past tense,” woobin said, laughing at how your expression shifted. he took a big step and stopped right in front of you, he turned to face you with his hand still holding yours. “now, i love you.”

the weather wasn’t as hot since the sun was preparing for the twilight, but your cheeks were. it was accompanied by the wild flutters in your stomach. letting go of woobin’s hand (a reflex to hide how flustered his words got you), your ears were enveloped by his sweet, sweet chuckle. you walked past through him in such rushed footsteps, a peal of laughter escaping your lips as you did so. “i can’t believe you had to say that in that way.”

however, you were not even that far from him when woobin caught you. your steps halted when he locked you in a back hug, giving your cheek a light peck which simply made it more flushed. “i love you more than you’d ever know,” he carefully whispered to your ear.

you chuckled at the gestures, his words tickling you. regardless of how playful it seemed to be, you knew woobin was dead serious with it. he detached himself from you, only to hold your hand once more and walk beside you.

glancing at your interlaced fingers, you leaned your head to his shoulder. “i love you too, woobin.”

“i love you so much, y/n,” he replied, gently squeezing your hand.

to be able to look at the flowers without thinking about how they budded in your body, to rest every evening without worrying about the petals disrupting your serene night, to be right next to the person you love and loves you, there was nothing else you could wish for.

the flowers in your chest had long ago stopped blooming. it went the same way with woobin. but little did you know... orchids started blooming on someone else’s body, slowly growing on the chest of the person who once caused you to have roses hugging your lungs.

and just like how you first found those roses beautiful, taeyoung thought those orchids were too.

#cravity imagines #cravitywriters #cravity oneshots #cravity x reader #kpop imagines #seo woobin #kim taeyoung #woobin x reader #taeyoung x reader #cravity

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opaljm · 4 years

Text

eye of the tiger (m) | teaser – kth

➻ female reader x taehyung

➻ jagged spin-off + hybrid au + tiger!taehyung + giraffe/deer!reader + enemies to lovers + fake dating + minor inspiration from zootopia if you squint

➻ genres: angst, smut, romance

➻ length & status: 3k words; teaser

➻ rating & warnings: 18+; allusions to minor discrimination and prejudice; allusion to bullying

➻ summary: You had been bullied by Kim Taehyung in your youth and wanted to have nothing to do with him. But when your ex-boyfriend, a stag hybrid, kept dogging at your heels and Taehyung needed a girlfriend to stop the jaguar hybrid Jimin from growling every single time he got within 10 feet of his girlfriend, you find yourself agreeing to keep up the pretense that you and Taehyung were each other’s childhood crushes and had only recently reconnected and decided to date.

➻ a/n: the Jagged sequel that exactly two people asked for. enjoy this for now because i have no idea when i will be finishing this since i have to finish the fics i already gave post dates for :D

➻ disclaimer: all lions are inbred and they live in a pride. i don’t think this is necessarily something that i have to apologize for having in my story but i’ll still throw out the disclaimer that there is one tiny joke about lions being inbred.

⋆ jagged ⋆ teaser ii ⋆ my masterlist ⋆

When you were little, there were a group of predator hybrids who used to relish in causing you pain and anguish. They would ridicule you for just about everything, from your big doe eyes with its long sweeping lashes that would brush against your cheekbones when your eyes were closed to your longer than average neck that was narrow and would often elongate itself when you were absentmindedly trying to look far off into the distance. You had been bullied for your skinny frame and your long gangly limbs throughout all of elementary school where you had been a foot taller than the second tallest person in your class. You were constantly besmirched for having the smattering of pale freckles over your cheeks and nose, always being made to feel adequate for having visual indications of your deer and giraffe heritage.

From what you could tell, the only prey hybrids that were accepted in your small town in South Carolina, were the ones that had hybrid markers that were ambiguous and could have belonged to any number of species or the ones that didn’t have many visible hybrid markers at all. In contrast, the predator hybrids were allowed to delight in their own signs of hybridization. The worst of your bullies were a large group of big cat hybrids, containing both males and females’ hybrids of lions with the occasional leopard hybrid. From what you could tell, the lion hybrids of your small town enjoyed ruling over the place with their pride, and their children had learned from their toxic behavior, enjoying terrifying smaller predator hybrids by sneaking up on them and practicing their roars or by eating their lunches, from home, of entirely raw hunks of meat in front of prey hybrids causing them to throw up the contents of their own vegetarian meals.

All of this should have made you critical of predator hybrids and how they treated the prey hybrids of your town, but when you sat in the one room apartment that you shared with your mother, a lovely deer hybrid who had had you too young and was raising you by herself, you would do your arithmetic equations and stare at the poster of the University of Californian Hybrids, Los Angeles you had hanging up, and dream of escaping to a big city in a more progressive state where predators and prey could live in harmony with each other and might even sometimes be in relationships together. This was even worse than when two hybrids of the same class bred outside their species in your hometown. That’s what had happened with your mother and father. He was a D1 athlete who played on the basketball team of the university they had gone to and had broken your mother’s heart after she had found out that she was pregnant with you. It was one thing to date or sleep with someone who wasn’t the same species as you. It was an entirely different ordeal marrying them and having children with them.

You were desirous of a life where you could be with a predator hybrid because when you were six and had been pushed off of the top of the slides by a puma hybrid, who had waiting for her turn to slide after you, an adorable tiger hybrid who had been roughly the same age as you had squeaked out his attempt at a sonorous roar and scared off the girl and then had slid down to run to you, where you laid sprawled on the rubber floor of the playground clutching your sprained wrist. He had yelled for his grandmother to get you aid and had become your best friend up until the two of you had entered middle school and hit puberty. That was when Taehyung, who had been your fiercest defender against everyone who ridiculed your modelesque stature, and the way you had towered over everyone at your school, had fallen in love with a lion hybrid and started hanging out more and more with the crew of big cat hybrids after school. The final devastating blow that had severed your friendship with the male, forever? When the lion hybrid he had had a crush on, Miyeon, had made fun of your eyes, before you had to do a presentation for your world history class, and said they protruded and made you looked bug-eyed and then said that the only people who would ever find you attractive would be amphibian hybrids and Taehyung had joined her in her laughter. There was nothing wrong with toad or frog hybrids, but it hurt when the male you were in love with laughed and agreed that you were not attractive. That had made you spiral into a depression and made you determined that the following year, when you entered high school, you would do everything in your power to excel at school and to be extraordinary enough to not only get a ticket out of the prejudiced hellhole that was your hometown but to be able to afford to accept that ticket in the form of a full ride scholarship.

When you had finally moved to Los Angeles, your mother remaining behind because she said that the cost of living there was too expensive even though she would have loved to join you, you had reinvented yourself into someone who was self-assured and confident. Someone who had pride in all of the aspects that made her who she undeniably was. Also, when you entered university you were shocked at how many hybrids were taller than you, not only the giraffe ones. There were lion hybrids on campus that were taller than you, for the most part all of them were. That had made you squinty eyed and ask your mother how much inbreeding she thought the lion hybrids back home had partaken in since they were much smaller and much weaker than all the cat hybrids you had run into. And not to mention, undeniably ugly.

In fact, you were more aware that you were only half giraffe hybrid and not full, every time you walked around the campus where everyone was tall and beautiful. You had a full scholarship, a wide variety of friends from different majors, and had even dated a couple of guys. Your ex being without a doubt one of your worse decisions but at least it gave you experience right? But the point was, you had changed. You were no longer the scared skittish prey hybrid of the past that allowed big cat hybrids to walk all over her just because in the wild they were the “kings of the jungle.”

This is why it was particularly annoying that when Taehyung, yes that asshole went to the same school as you, had seen you across the room at a frat party and had lunged in your direction, you had been frozen like a deer in headlights and could not move. This had resulted in the jerk, whom you had not seen nor talked to since you stood next to him at your high school graduation ceremony, wrapping his warm large hand around your wrist and dragging you through the crowd of drunk hybrids up the stairs to the second floor to an unoccupied bathroom.

“Taehyung what the fuck,” you groused, no longer the soft-spoken girl that he was used to. You were annoyed at how good he looked. He was shorter than you in your heels, but he was probably within an inch of your height if you both stood nose to nose and barefoot. He was wearing an animal print shirt that had short sleeves and exposed his chest, which looked irritatingly firm and was a sun-kissed gold. There was a band of cloth wrapped around his head like a bandana that made him look rakishly seductive. And his wavy tousled dark hair and heavy-lidded amber eyes made a devastating combination that made your panties wet with a rush of arousal. He sniffed the air and you prayed that he only smelled the clean linen scented air fresheners that overpowering the bathroom and not the scent of your arousal underneath it.

“I need a favor,” he admitted without preamble. You blurted out your refusal after the word “need,” interrupting him. “Oh, come on Y/N, we were close once,” he tried.

“Yeah when we were six,” you grumbled, crossing your arms across your shirt that tightened even more around the generous swell of your breasts. You upturned your face, gazing up at the vents on the ceiling as though you were contemplating your escape before becoming self-conscious of the elongated state of your throat and moved to fix your gaze onto something that was more your eye level: the towel rack that had been added to the door.

Taehyung sighed, if you didn’t agree to help him, he would be in a pickle. Moments before he had seen you at the party, he had been talking to the pretty sand dune cat hybrid he had been lusting over all of last semester. Unfortunately for him, it appeared that she was still in love with that jaguar hybrid Jimin who hung around her like a dark cloud. Not even two minutes into her and Taehyung’s conversation, Jimin had appeared and draped a possessive arm around her while he glared venomously and unblinkingly at Taehyung.

With a laugh Taehyung had said, “Look man I’m not trying to steal your girl.” Even though he was totally trying to steal his girl, “I have my own and my tastes are quite the opposite, not that you aren’t beautiful ___,” he added, flashing her a wide smile and throwing in a wink for good measure. Jimin was awkward and standoffish, not to mention he was kind of small for a wild cat hybrid. ___ needed someone who was big and strong and could adequately protect her and their cubs.

Jimin had only raised one elegantly shaped dark eyebrow at the statement and looked skeptically at Taehyung, “And where is this girlfriend of yours? This is the first I’m hearing about her.”

Taehyung had smiled tensely and looked beyond where they stood to where the room was more crowded into a crush, his gaze flitting from female to female as he tried to find someone he could pass off as a girl he had been seeing for a while. His gaze had found you in the throng. You had stood out from everyone else with your thin form, towering over a majority of the girls while you danced with a red solo cup in one hand and gracefully throwing your head back. Your long hair had revealed the sexy stretch of skin from the column of your throat to your bare shoulders that were all golden from exposure to the sun yet still had the faint smattering of freckles. He couldn’t shift his eyes from your figure.

His gaze was trapped on the sensual picture you had formed on the dance floor, writhing with confidence, and awakening in Taehyung an inexplicable need to hunt you down, throw you over his shoulder and drag you back to his lair to command your body and pleasure it. To undeniably exercise his ownership over you. It had been confusing because for all that Taehyung was a tiger hybrid, he had rarely experienced such an overwhelming need to chase and to hunt, to show that he was an apex predator and the king of the jungle.

Jimin’s eyes had followed the path that Taehyung’s eyes had made, and uttered after a surprised sound of disbelief, “Wow she really is different from ___. Is she even a cat hybrid?”

Taehyung had answered him with annoyance, not daring to shift his eyes from you, fearing that you would disappear in the crowd of the party if he took his eyes off, “She’s a mixed baby. A giraffe and deer hybrid.”

___ had let out an amazed gasp of astonishment, “That sounds like such an interesting pairing. Can I meet her, Taehyung? I wonder what life is like growing up mixed. Even more so, since Jimin and my kittens will be—”

Taehyung barely paid attention to her, his gaze was too focused on the deer hybrid approaching you. “I have to go,” he muttered, setting down his empty bottle of beer on the counter.

“Sure, of course,” hummed ___, “But remember to ask her about a double date, okay!”

This brought the two of you to the present. Taehyung’s eyes narrowed at the memory of that stag who had been sniffing around you. “Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?”

You started at the abrupt change in conversation. Why would Taehyung ask you such a thing? Had he seen you shift away from Jongin before you had been unceremoniously dragged upstairs by him? “Not that it’s any of your business since we aren’t friends,” you emphasized mercilessly, “But that was my ex Jongin. That’s the last time I’ll date a deer hybrid,” you admitted reluctantly. “The men are so overbearing and territorial. And he can’t accept that we’re broken up since I was the one to break things off and not him.” The last sentence had you huffing in indignation.

“Hmm,” hummed Taehyung thoughtfully, instantly making you suspicious and raising the hairs on your body. “Have you considered a tiger hybrid for your next boyfriend?”

You side-eyed him. What the fuck. “No, I have not Taehyung. Why would you even say something like that? It’s hardly as though you’re trying to get that position.”

Taehyung bared all his teeth threateningly. It hardly could be passed off as a smile. “But what if I were, Y/N?”

“No.” You refused to even think about it and tried to shove past his body to get to the door and out of this confining space.

Taehyung wouldn’t let you escape so easily. He crowded you against the door. Although you had the height, he was still much bigger than you with wide shoulders and a body that was wrapped by hard ropes of lean predator muscle. “I have a proposition. If you pretend to be my girlfriend for a month, I’ll get that meathead to stop bothering you,” He murmured, meeting your wary gaze with his smoldering one, his deep honey colored eyes boring into your chocolate brown ones.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought about just how the tiger hybrid would go about making the deer hybrid to back off. “You’re still getting thrills out of intimidating prey hybrids?” you scoffed, “That’s disgusting, Taehyung.”

Taehyung stilled, thrown off for a second, before he once again bared his teeth in the loose semblance of a smile and uttered, “I just meant he’s a Neanderthal. Once he sees how happy and satisfied you were with me, not to mention how I am able to take care of your every need, he’ll take the L and leave you alone.”

You still weren’t sold. “But why do you need a fake girlfriend,” you asked in suspicion. You trusted Taehyung about as far as you could throw him, which was probably only half a yard away.

Taehyung lied to you bald-facedly, the untruth flowing from his tongue so smoothly that you didn’t even catch it, “Same as you. There are too many people who are dying to have a piece of me and it’s honestly distracting. I’m trying to get into to finish a really intensive and time-consuming project for my major. I don’t have time to waste on booty calls.”

“And you would never be tempted to have sex with me?” You asked, your eyes burning a hole into the stretchy fabric of his black and white shirt.

“Never,” agreed Taehyung, lying once again. This time his heart thudded loudly against his chest and he felt a pang that he didn’t want to think about too deeply.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution - Non Commercial - No Derivatives 4.0 International License

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soundsaboutrighttumblr · 3 years

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WBL meta: Fighting Mr. 2nd, Ep 1

Just getting some thoughts out and sorted, join me if you wanna:

Topics this meta ramble will touch on: The sexual aggression in Shu Yi’s anger and the misunderstanding/cheating; Shi De’s regret and masochism and still carrying it all alone, that last scene, some minor speculations about DAD.

This all is written under the assumption that Shi De did not cheat, but that somehow Shu Yi came to the conclusion that he did. If alone by seeing him with that woman and child after one year, or if some additional forces might have been at work to convince him so.

Shu Yi’s Dad, the trailers make you look bad, maybe it’s just the way teasers work and you will be abdicated from those suspicions, but for now, I assume it’s you meddling in some way or other, may your intentions be what they will. I still suspect it was you who got to Shi De after 2 years when he first came back, and appealing to his responsibility -and guilt -for Shu Yi, to end it now when he is getting over you, rather than to give him that difficult life with a man at his side.

So there might also have been some strewn in comments to Shu Yi about Shi De moving on with someone else, at the one year past mark, feeding into the cheating narrative, or something more solid, that Dad gave Shu Yi, I just think it must have been a little bit more than just seeing him then, to believe it enough to completely retreat and call it off.

Not much though. Because as the notes about being young and immature say, the distance alone between them makes them unsure. In a way that they might never have been unsure, had they been in the same room, which is important for the last scene in this episode, because here Shu Yi visibly struggles to reconcile the Shi De that’s so earnest in front of him, and that he must remember from before, with the big statements of love and forever and those eyes, that Shi De that really has a hold on him, with the one that clashes with it, the one he build up in his mind over 5 years to get closure and protect himself, the one bastard that cheated and is lying to him.

Shi De has no fucking clue though. He operates under the assumption that his only ‘crime’ is to have taken 5 years instead of months and having made Shu Yi wait. Mind you, he regrets that alone so much it buries him under all the guilt and regret, and masochist that sometimes he is at heart, he rather takes all the general blame for it all, anything that Shu Yi throws his way, than to defend himself in the face of Shu Yi’s anger, because yes, he feels the anger is valid, even if it takes on that tone that his mind protests, his heart still is willing to take all the blows. From that anger that he still thinks is the anger Yu Xin has warned him about, that, even if blown up tenfold, he shouldn’t take to heart, and just has to weather out with determination and staying by Shu Yi’s side, even if it is reasonable bigger than just a minor fight.

He gets really confused by the sexual aggression of Shu Yi’s attacks, though, because doesn’t understand why Shu Yi would take that tone for his anger. For Shu Yi, I think it’s about hurting Shi De in that way that Shu Yi felt hurt by his cheating. Sex with somone else was assumedly used to hurt Shu yi, now he’ll use sex to cause Shi De hurt and degrade him someow, it’s a fuzzy connection but I think one that Shu Yi makes somehow.

The ‘women are better’ speech is as much to belittle and provoke Shi De as it is directed at the cheating situation, which of course flies by Shi De, because he didn’t, doesn’t even know of that suspicion or verdict. The fact that he is so confused by it makes me even more sure, he did not cheat, would never, come one, only you. He actually says that Shu Yi can be mad, but that he doesn’t have to do it that way. So, no, he doesn’t understand what warranted that fierceness, that specific brand of anger from Shu Yi, and when Shu Yi calls it hatred, not anger, that’s not just a slap to the face, it’s a punch to the gut, and damn, Sam that acting, I physically felt your exhaustion, the reigning it in, the picking your jacket and yourself up from the floor and soldiering on.

The same confusion is in that last scene of the ep, about why Shu Yi would take that tone of sexual provocation, why make it that and bring that into their power play. But I think I’ll type an extra paragraph or two on that perfect scene.

The conclusion to this is for me, that Shi De is still so stuck in that carrying it all alone mode, the love, the guilt, the blame, that something HAS to give in the next episodes to let him grow out of it. He might have to break down first, to do so. So yeah, that next episode is gonna be whew.

That Scene.

Maybe it stands out to me so much, because I was about to write something quite similar as fic during hiatus, but I wanted to see what they did first. They practically took that dynamic I had in mind and made it heart crushingly beautiful with their faces and everything.

Shi De choses earnest determination as his weapon coming into this, Shu Yi, after offended shock, again takes to sexually loaded power play. And damn, all that happens on Shi De’s face when Shu Yi comes close, and later touches him. There is so much confusion still, about why Shu Yi would take that sexually charged approach to this, for Shi De again it doesn’t make the sense that it does for Shu Yi.

It is clear Shu Yi is making this a sexual provocation again, and his ‘want me back? Okay.” has a most obvious catch, and Shi De is trying to figure it out while being overwhelmed by having Shu I within reach and still so far away.

I don’t think they’ve let roughness like this into their sexual experience up to this point, passion, yes, but when Shi De hits the desk, you can tell from his face, this feels off, this is new, he can’t place it again, the why.

The moment Shu Yi says ‘give it to me/let’s do it’ is the moment he delivers the push that makes Shi De fall onto the desk, that makes it clear that this is actually less about sex, but more about power play, even if Shu Yi masks it in sexual gestures. He is never prepared to go through with it, I believe, which explains his sudden retreat once Shi De actually agrees. Which is the most disarming, subversive move, and Shi De intuitively knows to take it and break through Shu Yi’s defenses and his act that way.

Shi De is so conflicted, though. Imagine the touch that you want so much, have missed so much, but in that aggressive, instrumentalized way, that feels wrong and still you are overwhelmed with how much you want it and what you’d give for it. Still all the while Shi De is trying to read Shu Yi, can’t understand his choices because he misses crucial information, but is trying to get through to him nonetheless. When Shu Yi caresses up Shi De’s face, Shi De’s puzzlement, and pain, and longing, and being torn and confused… it’s all there, and damn. Wow.

I don’t think ‘giving it up to the other’ means something derogative per se for them, what makes it this utter provocation is that it is voiced as that claim through that anger. Like, do you dare? Do you dare to let me f… you when I am angry like this? When possibly the have never done THAT before? And Shu Yi only expects a no, because somehow it would be a betrayal to everything they did before at least in my head canons. Because the base is wrong. Roughness needs to happen on a base of total trust, and that is just not there in that situation, they are not equal, and Shu Yi doesn’t expect Shi De to submit in that way and give ‘himself’ up.

So when he says yes, Shu Yi is completely confused and out of his depths.

And with the walls suddenly torn down, Shi De dares to make that statement, one that ‘old’ Shi De would have made: I can do anything for you. And he has Shu Yi by his very heart then. The hold and connection might break again in the next minute, but right then, Shu Yi is completely disarmed and in Shi De’s grasp.

And so confused, because all this and his own reaction doesn’t fit into the persona he made Shi De into in his mind those last 4 years. The scheming one who cheated and lied and played with him. The one he maybe built up meaner than necessary to protect himself of the pain. This is the one he remembers too, but pushed aside, the one who talks earnestly about his love, and never seems to waver in that love. They just don’t go together, and Shu Yi is so confused.

I don’t think sex is going to happen from this scene’s continuation. But boy that scene. Shu Yi will probably snap out of it and revert to anger one more time, but a dent is made. There’s cracks in both their composures and way of handling things now, and it will have to break.

And woah, am I hyped for more. Show, you’ve raised my expectations once more. Deliver, please.

Not sure i will ever be done rambling about it, but for now, that’s it.

Feel free to talk to me about it, if you want 3

#wbl #we best love meta #we best love: fighting mr. 2nd #meta

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asphalt-cocktail · 4 years

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Sour- Chapter 1

Chapter 1: You’re a Right Bitch

Summary: Signing onto EMI records in the mid 80′s should have been a dream come true for Reader and her punk band, but she finds herself bubbling over with rage every time she interacts with the drummer from the successful rock band that records down the hall.

A/N: Hey lil cuties, I hope you enjoyed the teaser, it got a lot of good recognition which I’m happy about. Maybe i’ll actually do a tag list if anyone is interested (P.S. send ask if you are) and depending on how many people ask I’ll make but ONLY for this fic. If any of you have ideas for a name for reader’s band let me know because I’m writing the next chapter right now and I can’t think of what to call it, I was thinking maybe Sex Kitten, but let me know you’re opinion is always appreciated! This can be read as Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor and your feedback, likes, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

Pairing: 80s!Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, hate fucking, degrading, alcohol, cigarettes, dom!Roger, swearing, fighting, unprotected sex, no foreplay, throwing up (from intoxication), age difference(maybe like 10 years, reader is probably mid- late 20s and Roger is close to 40), rog being kind of a c*nt, but reader also is, not proof read, grammar.

Word Count: 5.8k whoops

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Asks

18+ if you are a minor do NOT interact with this post. This is fictitious content and I own nothing.

<<<< Teaser

Signing onto EMI should have seemed like a dream come true, but it wasn’t. Not because you and your band had issues with the contract or the long hours spent in the recording studio, no, it was because of a certain drummer of a certain internationally known rock band that had been the absolute bane of your existence. You honestly had no idea how the two of you had gotten off on the wrong foot, maybe it was how loud your hot-headed drummer, Benny got when he was pissed off, or how Haz liked to play his guitar outside of the sound dampened recording studio or how your singer Joe sand loudly in the halls as the four of you left to go home, or maybe it was the fact that you told him you expected him to be much shorter from slouching behind his set. Come to think of it, it probably was the latter of the complaints you’ve gotten from the neighboring band.

The first time you met Roger Taylor was also your first day in the recording studio as an officially signed and contracted band. The group of you were leaving well past midnight, alcohol and cigarettes seemed to be the only way you four could make it through recording this late. As the group of you stumbled through the hallway, your laughter accompanied by Joe’s bass heavy vocals echoed loudly through the halls. Your troupe had just barely made your way to the first door before a head of messy blond hair and furrowed brows poked his head out from the neighboring recording room, “Would you shut your bloody traps, some of us are trying to record.” He snapped before loudly slamming the door behind him.

You and your bandmates froze, unsure of what to do or say. It wasn’t until Haz spoke up and shoved Joe “Yeah shut up, Joe.” He mocked while laughing. You couldn’t help but think of how familiar his face looked.

Just the thought of Roger Taylor was enough to make your mood sour for at least the next three hours. You frowned pushing the heavy doors to the outside open, inhaling the cool winter air. You needed to get out of that damn recording studio, it got so stuffy after having four people in there breathing the same air for hours at a time. You brought a cigarette to your lips and lit it, leaning against the brick building with your hands in your jacket pocket, the door next to you opened revealing your nemesis, Roger Taylor, much to your dismay. “Fuck now my cigarette is ruined.” You said blowing smoke out towards the air.

Roger rolled his eyes, “Piss off.” He retorted before walking past you and to his car to grab a few sets of spare sticks.

“Aw, not out here to join me for a smoke?” you joked.

Roger frowned and his face twisted into one of disgust “I’d rather eat a fist full of glass.” He spat at you bitterly.

You hummed taking a drag from your cigarette and blew the smoke directly in his face as he walked past you “Shame, we really could have bonded.”

Roger waved the smoke away from his face “Don’t you have to be a bitch somewhere else?”

Your face twisted as you stubbed your cigarette out with your boot “Don’t you have to bang on some pots and pans?” you retorted.

Roger rolled his eyes and pushed past you, throwing the door open and stomping down the hall. You waited a beat for him to make his way to Queen’s recording room before you followed suit. Seeing Roger Taylor in person was enough to sour your mood for a few days. You and your bad attitude made your way back to the studio, you loudly shut the door behind you which caught the attention of your bandmates. “What’s got you in a pissy mood?” Haz asked.

Benny smirked knowingly “You ran into roger while out on your smoke break, didn’t you?”

You huffed “I swear to god I’m going to fight his arrogant ass one of these days.” You said while pacing, too worked up to sit down.

Joe walked out of the booth “Well if you’re done brooding, get in and record your bass line for the song. We’ve been wasting time waiting for you to get back in.” He sounded almost as frustrated as you were.

You nodded, picking up your bass and walking into the booth, you put the headphones on and allowed for the music your bandmates had recorded previously to fill your eardrums as you added your bass line onto their unapologetically loud post-punk beats.

The music stopped and you looked up from your bass, “You sound like shit.” Benny said, “Not like good shit, but like actual shit.” He added.

Your jaw dropped, “Excuse me?” you sounded shocked, “What?” You really couldn’t wrap your head around what Benny had just told you.

Joe nodded his head and gave you a sympathetic smile along with a thumbs down, “You should make it… make it more slappy I guess?”

You scoffed “Slappy? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Benny clicked on the speaking button again “It means, make it sound slappy. Like this,” He said singing a bass like.

You nodded your head “Got it.” You said and waved your hand signaling them to roll the tape. You chewed on your lip and listened for a minute to think of something to play before you let your fingers fly down your frets and strings. When you finished you looked back up to the window “Slappy enough for you?”

“Fucking brilliant, per usual.” Haz complemented into the mic.

Movement in the background caught your attention though, you walked closer to the window and squinted your eyes trying to see into the poorly lit sound booth to the door. Where some tall figures stood “What’s going on back there?” You asked.

Haz shifted nervously in his seat “Don’t worry about it, we have other songs to do.” You could see him swallow thickly behind the glass that separated the two of you.

You were suspicious but he was right, “Fine, roll the bloody tape.” You were frustrated, frustrated with your shit takes, frustrated with Roger, frustrated with the fact you didn’t know what was going on from the outside of this stupid little box. Through the middle of your little recording session you saw your bandmates recongregate in front of the soundboard. They whispered and talked amongst themselves while the producer sat next to them obviously eavesdropping, you abruptly stopped “Are you going to tell me who was at the door? Or should I just keep playing and not having you pay attention.” You said bitterly.

Benny rolled his eyes and paused the recording, “If you really need to know, Freddie Mercury invited us to a gathering at his house later this evening.” He said waving an envelope in front of the window.

“You’ve got to be joking.” You said, letting go of your bass and allowing it to drop and hand loosely from the strap around your shoulder.

“Honest,” He said raising his hands defensively.

You took your headphones off and switched off the mic before screaming “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” From behind the soundproof booth, that did it. You rage had finally bubbled over, you shoved over the table holding your water, extra pics, and notes before breathing deeply and regathering yourself. “Let’s roll the fucking tape so we can get ready, yeah?” You said, as your bandmates looked at you with shocked expressions behind the glass. “You lot catching flies, or are we going to fucking record, let’s go.”

As you recorded your bandmates sat in an uncomfortable silence before one of them finally spoke “I’ve never seen [Y/N] that mad at anything in my life.” Haz started, leaning back in his chair.

Joe nodded his head, still listening intently but joining in on the conversation, “Yeah, but I bet it’s because she hasn’t gotten a proper lay in ages.”

Benny cracked open his beer and took a big gulp before grunting in agreement “You think she fancies Taylor?” he questioned.

“Yeah, but she can’t deal with her feelings, you know that. She’ll destroy this whole damn studio before she admits that.” Haz pointed out.

Benny nodded his head “Right, well I guarantee she is going to be piss drunk tonight, so I’ll keep an eye on her.”

---

After your litter outburst in the studio the boys decided to call it a day after your last take to allow for you all to go home and get ready for Freddie’s party, Ben would be making arounds later to pick everyone up but that wouldn’t be an issue considering he was also your roommate. You rifled through your closet, struggling to figure out what to wear. Your typical style didn’t seem grand enough for a Freddie Mercury party, but you made do with what you had and opted for comfort instead of sex appeal.

“Try not to fight anyone tonight.” Benny said as the two of you got into his small car.

You obviously knew what he was referencing but preferred to ignore it “I won’t, it’ll be fine, I’ve never been in a better mood.” You said and flashed him a fake cheesy smile.

Benny rolled his eyes knowing he would have his hands full tonight.

The drive to Freddie’s lavish home was surprisingly short, which you were grateful for seeing as sitting in the car was making you stir crazy. A pit of butterflies had formed in your stomach, but you had no idea why you had this sudden onset of nerves. You got along wonderfully with all of the other members of the famous rock and roll band and often times would ring up John Deacon for advice on your playing. You didn’t mind his bluntly honest critiques or his back handed complements that would make any other person run and cry. You were not any other person in the sense that you and John were very similar in that sense. Being the bassists in your respective bands meant you had to stand up for yourself otherwise you would get pushed to the background and often forgotten about by fans. It was your mutual understanding for the struggles of being bassists and strong drinkers that caused your professional friendship to form.

The group of you made your way to Freddie’s front door and were let in by nicely dressed doormen, and the scene before you was unlike anything you could have imagined. You knew his parties were the stuff of legends, but a party of this stature could rival even the great Jay Gatsby. You quickly lit a cigarette and took a glass of expensive white wine from one of the waitstaffs’ trays, promptly downing the small glass and handing it back to them, “Shall we?” You asked nodding your head into the large crowd of people before you.

Before you knew it, your bandmates had been swallowed by the crowd, causing you to lose sight of them and anyone else you may have recognized as a matter of fact. You meandered through the crowd towards the bar where you saw a familiar head of iconic curly hair, “Brian!” You said, greeting him with a friendly embrace which he returned. “It’s so nice to see you outside of the recording studio.” You jokingly said.

He laughed and nodded his head, “Yeah same to you.” He took a sip from his drink, “I heard you and Roger got into another little spat.” He could see the remanence of frustration behind your cheerful expression.

Your smile quickly dropped and was replaced by rolling eyes and deep sigh, “Did he tell you that?” You asked, you could feel your frustration boiling over.

“You know he’s sensitive about his drumming.” Brian chimed in with a smirk, oh did he love stirring the pot between the two of you.

“Well I’m sensitive about being called a bitch.” You said quickly swallowing the mixed drink your ordered, hoping the alcohol would ease your frustration.

Brian’s lips quirked into a sympathetic smile, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” That was a lie and both of you knew it.

You nodded, already nursing your next drink, these bartenders really did work at inhuman speeds “Right,” You said not believing his lie, “Where’s Fred and John?” You quipped.

“What, not curious about where the fourth member is?” Brian pressed, your silence caused him to put his hands up defensively “Only taking the piss.” He said, still smiling “Freddie is out back, and John is God knows where.”

You nodded your head before ordering another drink, back up if you will, and bidding Brian farewell before you pushed your way through the crowd to greet the host. Freddie was having a good time, per usual. You waved hello to him from the crowd of people, he yelled something you couldn’t hear over the music and reached for your hand pulling you into a warm friendly hug which you awkwardly returned given your hands were full. You handed Freddie your empty drink glass “What should I do with this?” You asked, he responded by taking the glass from your hand and throwing it out into the crowd of people, causing you to laugh while nursing your next drink.

You and Freddie laughed in your mutual drunken states “You know, darling, when Roger came back into the studio and mentioned how you said something about him banging on pots and pans I nearly died from laughter.” He said remembering the flushed and angry expression on his drummer’s face. “You know what I think?” He asked leaning into talk to you, you sipped your drink, looking up at Freddie wide eyed and pressing him to continue speaking “I think the two of you should fuck.”

You choked on your drink, coughing it all over the front of your shirt and wiping the dribble from your chin “What!” You asked in a shrill voice.

Freddie let out a bellowing laugh, “It would be brilliant, the two of you need a good fuck anyways.” He said trailing off at the end and taking a large sip from his highball glass.

“I can’t believe you would even suggest I sleep with that arrogant asshole.” You were honestly kind of offended that Freddie would group you with one of Roger’s lowly groupies.

“Hear me out, love.” He said, his stance wavering from the alcohol “Roger has had such a stick up his ass after quitting smoking and the divorce. I don’t think he’s gotten any decent pussy since we toured in the 80s and you? I don’t ever see you going home with any sort of eye candy.”

You rolled your eyes before you finished off your drink and set your glass on a table, “I don’t get any I’m the only female in a mostly male punk band, Fred.” You pointed out, using your now empty hands to light a cigarette, “I’m not even a lead, I just play bass.” You said blowing smoke out into the night sky.

“Oh rubbish, you’re a damn good bassist or John wouldn’t even give you the time of say.” What Freddie said was true. While John was harsh in his critiques, you knew it was only because he saw the raw talent you had.

You nodded your head only half listening to Freddie, your mind still caught up on trying to imagine how sex with Roger Taylor would be. A bitter frown crossed your lips, you would never fuck Roger Taylor, “I need a refill.” You huffed before promising Fred you would come back immediately after your drink. You pushed your way through the crowd, your arm raised as to not burn anyone with your lit cigarette. You tried desperately to find your bandmates, but alas due to the large crowd it was no use.

Either way, you needed another drink.

You quickly made you way to the bar back inside the house and ordered a shot of whiskey and chased it with a full beer before you ordered another mixed drink. The copious amounts of alcohol you had consumed were finally catching up to you, your face felt hot and flushed and your skin tingled delightfully. You hummed, sipping your drink and making your way to the bathroom to finally break the seal. After checking several of the first-floor bathrooms, only to find their handles locked you frowned in frustration and made your way up the stairs to the second level of Freddie’s mansion before you finally found an unlocked bathroom. You promptly went in and relieved yourself as you exited you ran into a surprisingly firm body, sloshing your drink and theirs on each other’s respective shirts “Who invited you here?” The voice sent a chill of frustration up your spine and to your alcohol flushed face.

You looked up, locking eyes with an equally intoxicated Roger Taylor, you huffed moving to push past him “Freddie did, the other members of your group actually seem to enjoy my company.” You said, once again moving to squeeze past him. Your efforts were to no avail, as he had firmly planted both hands on either side of the door, trapping you in the bathroom. “Get out of my way.” You said impatiently, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re always a right cunt you know that?” he said in a matter of fact tone.

You grit your teeth and clenched your drink harder “You’re the one that’s the cunt, maybe it’s all that groupie pussy that’s ruined your respect for women.”

Roger scoffed, here he was, nearly forty years old and throwing insults at some newbie punk rocker. “I don’t know if I’d call you a woman, maybe a failed guitarist sure, but a woman or lady not so much.” He said crossing his arms over his chest giving you a smug look.

“I think your sticks are too far up your ass, Taylor,” You spoke as you pushed past him. Before you had time to react you felt hands on your shoulders pushing you hard against with wall causing you drop the glass in your hands, allowing it to shatter on the ground and the breath to escape from your lungs, you groaned but didn’t know if it was from the pain of your back colliding with the wall behind you or from the adrenaline you felt rising in your veins and stomach.

Roger’s strong hands held you firmly against the wall and his calloused fingertips brushed against the skin on your collar causing a light shutter to run through your body “I have half a mind to shut you up right here.” He threatened, his usually bright blue eyes now clouding over with something much darker.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the pressure of having his knee right between your legs, but you felt a sudden boldness “Do it,” You pressed, articulating your words and hoping to get a rise out of him.

With that, he pressed his lips against you with force, causing your teeth to clank together and your head to fall back, knocking against the wall. His roughness causing a sultry moan to slip from your lips, “You’re pathetic.” He hissed pulling your hair and tilting your head to expose your neck and leaving hot opened mouth kisses along your jawline to your neck where he harshly bit down causing you to shove him back.

Roger gripped tightly to your hips causing the two of you to stumble backwards from the force of your push “Take me to a bedroom and fuck me already.” You said impatiently. Freddie wouldn’t mind if the two of you had a quick romp in the sheets in one of his many bedrooms, after all he was the one that instigated the whole thing.

The two of you stumbled, a mess of tangled and drunken limbs as you fell back into the first open bedroom you could find. Roger flipped on the light switch, not breaking the kiss and revealing a large well decorated room with an equally large bed in the middle. He shut the door behind him with one arm and shoved you back onto the bed with the other. Your eyes caught your reflection in the side mirror, your hair was a mess accompanied by smeared make up and eyes clouded with lust.

You quickly slipped your boots off and lifted your hips to help Roger take your pants off. Quickly, he flipped you over and pushed you forward. You adjusted yourself, ass in the air and legs spread showing off your already wet pussy. Roger groaned looking at it and ran a finger through your slick folds “You truly are pathetic, you know that, [Y/N]? I’ve barely touched you and here you go making a mess all over Freddie’s sheets.” He inserted two fingers into you agonizingly slow and licked his lips feeling the tightness of you engulf him, “A shit bassist, shit song writer, shit musician, shit person…” He emphasized each of his words with the slow lazy thrusting of his fingers. You let out a choked sob, desperate for him to give you more, “What was that?” He asked smugly, “If you want to get fucked, you’re going to have to be louder for me.” He said before pulling his fingers out leaving you feeling empty.

You pushed back against hand, “No-” you said sharply. You spread your legs further and arched your back “Please,” you hated how he had complete control over the situation, but at the same time loved it.

“Please what?” He asked swiping the head of his cock between your damp folds, intently watching as your juices coated him.

“Fuck me.” You said softly, clenching the bedsheets.

He raised his hand and placed a sharp smack on your ass causing you to jolt “Ah, fuck. Just stick it in already Roger.” You hissed.

Without warning the blond lined up to your entrance and pushed in, not giving you time to adjust. He let out a choking groan, not expecting you to be as tight as you were, “Fucking Christ.” He hissed snapping his hips against yours with purpose.

You gripped the bedsheets and cried out, feeling him stretch your walls unapologetically. There was no foreplay and no care in how either of you handled each other, just wanton need mixed with the mutual resentment you had for each other.

Roger propped one of his legs up to angle deeper into you and leaned over, pushing the side of your face into the mattress as he relentlessly pounded into you, years upon years of frustration he couldn’t hold back. He fucked his failed marriage, arguments with the band, cigarette cravings, and the comments you made about how shitty you thought his drumming was into you as he drove you into the mattress. Your legs shook and eyes rolled into the back of your head from the pleasure you received from the new angle and you let out a string of garbled words neither of you could understand. “This whole party can probably hear how much of a slut you are.” He said slipping his thumb into your mouth to which you greedily sucked on, “I didn’t expect you to have such a tight pussy” He huffed and groaned feeling your walls flutter against him, “’Cos you seemed like such an easy lay.” He let out a breathless laugh, knowing how right he was.

Your arms had given out and were sprawled out in front of you and drool had started to dribble down your chin from Roger’s thumb pressing down on your tongue forcing your mouth open to hear your sinful cries, you knew your legs weren’t going to hold you up much longer and Roger knew that as well.

He quickly pulled out and flipped you over onto your back in a less than graceful manor before he hitched your legs over his hips and pushed himself back in, continuing his relentless pace. You reached your hand into his hair and tugged roughly on his while your other hand raked its nails down his back causing him to arch into your touch and his movement to faulter.

You were surprised to feel a hand slip between your legs and begin rubbing rough circles around your clit, guess chivalry wasn’t dead after all, you squirmed against his touch the stimulation almost becoming too much for you to handle. Your walls twitched, clamping down around Roger, earning a shuttering moan from him.

You were both close.

“R-Rog…” You let out a stuttering moan feeling your climax building in your gut.

“Come on, you can’t be that daft, use your words.” He huffed, gripping your chin to make you face him, “I want this whole party to know who’s fucked you by the time I’m done.” He said through gritted teeth.

You opened your eyes and your mouth hung ajar, breathing heavily as you made eye contact with the mess of a man before you. Roger’s shirt had ridden up, and his pants were half pulled down and accompanied by sweaty and matted hair, you hated how the look in his eyes caused your walls to clamp down hard on his cock, squeezing him as you reached your climax, yelling his name with a hoarse and cracked voice for the whole party downstairs to hear, and the face he made as clenched your thighs and hip and reached his own, releasing hot spurts of come into you. He hunched over you, letting out shaky breaths as he worked you through your orgasm. He hated you but wasn’t a monster.

Roger stopped and swallowed thickly while trying to catch his breath, you glanced over at the mirror seeing red scratched zig zagging on his back and sat in silence, wondering which one of you would cave first and break it. The drummer pulled out of you and tried to hide the whimper that escaped him at the feeling of your tight walls clenching around his sensitive cock but failed, before he tucked himself back into his pants, “Still think you’re a bitch.” He said tucking his shirt back into his pants and tightening his belt.

“You’re a shit lay.” You tried to insult as you got up, steps wavering and some of the evidence of your prior actions leaking down the inside of your thigh.

Roger bit his lip at the sight and watched you pull your pants up, “Right and the whole crowd downstairs couldn’t hear your pathetic voice five minutes ago.” He said before turning to leave, giving you a short wave “Ta,” he said and left, walking downstairs with no shame.

Your hips ached as you walked to the bathroom to clean yourself up, you hated how that was your first penetrative orgasm, and you hated the ache between your legs, and you hated the smug look on Roger’s face after he left because the both of you knew he was probably the best lay you’ve had. But you couldn’t find it in you to be angry, not while in your post orgasm haze. You walked down the steps, taking it easy, and made your way to the bar and ordered a mixed drink to quench your thirst, desperately hoping that the stares you received weren’t because these strangers knew you just had been fucked so hard you could still feel the muscles in your legs twitching or that you could still feel the remains of your and Roger’s essence leaking out of you even after you cleaned yourself off.

You ordered a shot and a beer, quickly down the shot and moved to drink the beer before it was taken from your hands. You turned to see Freddie nursing what used to be your beer with a knowing smirk on his face, “[Y/N],” He said in a sing song voice.

“I didn’t fuck Roger” You said defensively.

Freddie grinned and handed you back your beer which you promptly drank out of “I didn’t say that, but you just confirmed.” He nudged your side, “Was it good? You know I caught Roger walking down the steps and he flashed me this grin.” He paused to order a drink, “And you know what I said to myself? I said, oh no Roger only makes that face after he fucked a good cunt. Then what do you know” He shrugged in an animated fashion “I see none other than you, darling, walking down the stairs, stiff as a board.” Freddie was about to continue rambling before you cut him off.

“I hate him.” You said placing a cigarette between your lips and lighting it, inhaling deeply.

Freddie practically ignored your comment, “But it was good wasn’t it?” Your silence was all he needed to answer “See!” He pointed out.

As the night continued so did your consumption of alcohol, you felt your drink being taken out of your hands and a blurry figure and closed on eye to focus your vision. It was a very pissed off Benny, “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since we got here.” He said, drinking your drink.

You whined and leaned onto Benny’s chest “Hey, I was drinking that.” Your words slurred together.

“You look like a mess.” He said wrapping an arm around you to help steady your poor balance, your make up was smeared, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled. But thankfully your drunken state covered for your earlier romp in the sheets. “We have to go home,” He said pulling you along, “Come on.”

Your steps wavered as you began walking out “Wait,” You said abruptly stopping, “I have to say bye to Fred.”

Benny rolled his eyes “You’ve been with Fred all night, I’m sure he’ll understand that we need to leave.” You let out a whiney protest, “It’s 4am, [Y/N]” he said as if pointing out the early hour in the morning was going to make you want to leave more.

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and firmly stood your ground, “Fine, for god’s sake Joe go find Freddie.” Benny said running a frustrated hand through his hair.

To you what seemed like hours but was truly minutes passed and Freddie was before you, and equally as drunk mess as you were, hanging off Jim’s shoulder. The two of you held each other in a drunken embrace and Freddie kissed your cheek goodbye before Benny pulled you off.

As Benny and Joe practically pushed you into the car you caught sight of a familiar blonde who was also about to leave, you rolled your window down “Hey!” You shouted, catching Taylor’s attention “You’re a bitch!” You shouted, to which he flipped you the finger and yelled ‘fuck off’ as you and your bandmates drove away.

After dropping off your two other bandmates at home Benny draped your arm across his back and held you at the waist, as you struggled to stand. “’M gonna puke.” You said feeling your stomach doing flips and a sudden cold chill crawl up your spine and settle where your ears and jaw connected. You moved to kneel on the soft grass on the side of your parking area and your hair fell around your face as you retched, trying to use your arms to hold yourself up, they were so tired and your elbows jerked, threatening to give out.

Benny pulled your hair back, seeing a large and deep mark of varying shades of red and purple on your neck, “What the fuck is this?” He asked poking the side of your neck when you finished puking and started to regain your breath. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and mumbled some incoherent words, “What?” He asked again.

“I fucked Roger!” You said loudly, sitting back on the concrete.

“Ssshhh,” He said putting a hand over your mouth “You’re going to wake the whole bloody neighborhood.”

You swayed in your seated position and fell into Benny’s chest, “I fucked Roger,” You said in a loud whisper.

“Yeah, I got that much.” Benny said, hooking his arms under your shoulders and pulling you up with him, the two of you made the long arduous walk to up to your apartment building. Benny laid you in your bed and unlaced your boots, you let out a huff still frustrated with yourself, “Was it good at least?” your roommate asked while handing you a glass of water.

You sat up in your bed and gulped it down “Yes,” you said in a defeated voice “But it doesn’t change anything, I still can’t stand the bloody prick.”

Benny hummed “Right,” He said nodding his head and taking the glass from your hands, “We can talk more about this in a few hours, the birds are chirping.”

---

When you awoke a few hours later you groaned, clutching your head feeling the insistent pounding of a hangover rattling through you and an ache between your legs, “Shit,” You said out loud remembering your actions from the night before. You got out of bed seeing you were still in last night clothes and slipped into an oversized tee shirt and put on some sunglasses to help shield your eyes from the bright light of day before you shuffled out of your bedroom and into the bathroom to find something to curb your headache.

You grabbed the pill bottle of over the counter pain killer and made your way to the kitchen for a glass of water and were greeted by your bandmates all in your living room. You opened your mouth to issue an apology for being a drunken mess last night but before you could get words out Joe interrupted you “Don’t worry, Haz puked all over the nice tile near Freddie’s pool right before we left so you weren’t the worst off.” Haz hid his face bashfully and nodded at you feeling your pain.

You grabbed a glass of water and made yourself comfortable in your usual spot in the living room, not caring that you weren’t wearing pants. You were comfortable enough with your bandmates and paid half the rent here so you really should be able to do whatever you damn well pleased in the place you called home. Much to your dismay you were already thrown a heap of questions “So I heard you fucked Roger last night.” Joe said bluntly.

You paused bringing your glass of water to your mouth to drink and were thankful your sunglasses hid your expression, “Yeah we fucked. What of it?” You asked defensively.

Joe made a face and put his hands up, “I was only making conversation.” He muttered bringing up his cup of tea before drinking it.

You were not going to hear the end of it.

Chapter 2: We Can Hate Each Other in the Morning >>>

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foreverwcnter · 5 years

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sunflower — flowers mini-series / peter parker

pairing — peter parker x reader

warnings — tbd

summary — part 3 in which peter learns that a flower can be more memorable and passionate than the words “I love you.”

author’s note — thank you for stopping to read my fic! i work very hard on these and try my best to make sure they are enjoyable to read. i also do a lot of research to complete these fics. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i liked writing this! also, some important details that seem minor are hidden in the parts of this series. I’ll hint at one; it’s at the beginning of part one. It’s important to parts coming up later. there isn’t any hidden detail in here really.

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The more time Peter spent with you, the more he fell for you. Five weeks had passed and Peter managed to visit you every single day. You always made his day brighter. you would crack jokes with one another, teach him about gardening and about the language of flowers you loved so dearly. He took you on multiple swings across the city, sometimes even dropping you off near your favorite florist shops. You were becoming his best friend, but Peter wanted to be more.

Hell, the boy was in love now. You were the only person he wanted to be around, The teenager often came by after patrols, having you patch him up and tell him about your day. Then you would let him go on and on about his day and the patrols. You were very close with one another and you were falling for him too. It was obvious. Your father even commented on it, claiming he had never seen you so happy before. You were a fairly happy person, so it was a rare occurrence when someone claims you are happier.

Peter had even started visiting you in the middle of the night. He’d knock on your window to have you clean up his minor injuries, which easily resulted in him falling asleep on your bed. You slept next to him, but not close enough to touch him. He’d always wake up with a blush, but spend time just staring at you. You looked peaceful when you slept. Maybe it was because of the plants in your room, making a good aroma fill the air. Peter liked to think it was because of his presence that made you so calm, but he highly doubted it. After all, being friends with a superhero only brought worries, not calmness.

Peter had even taken you to meet his friends finally. They adored you. It had been such a good day that day. Peter swung you over to the central park as Spider-Man, dropping you off before changing on a roof. He joined you after a few minutes and you both met up with MJ and Ned. Ned already seemed to know a lot about you, no doubt from Peter ranting about how awesome you were. MJ already loved you, asking questions about how to take care of certain plants. It was obvious you would both be best friends. You all spent the day walking around, having fun, and eating ice cream.

When meeting his Aunt May, it’d be an understatement if someone said May loved you. She thought you were the sweetest soul and understood why her nephew loved you so much.

You and Peter stood out on your roof. He wasn’t as Spider-Man at the moment, but just as himself. The way you liked him the most. Peter was stupid enough to think you only wanted to be friends with him because he was Spider-man. That was false. You liked him for him. You enjoyed how sweet and patient he was and how he seemed so dorky. He was the definition of adorable in your eyes.

“So how deep do you need the trench for these sunflower seeds?” Peter asked, turning his head over his shoulder to look at you.

“About one to two inches deep. Two inches would be best though,” you mentioned as you poured water over some of your ferns. Peter nodded, carefully digging a two-inch trench in the soil, carefully laying the sunflower seeds in them. He was helping you plant new sunflowers. According to you, these could grow to up to ten feet tall, which seemed outrageous in Peter’s eyes. In a good way though.

You walked over, sitting down next to Peter and helping him cover the seeds up. He glanced over at you and asked,” So what do these mean?”

Folding your hands in your lap, which was covered by your jean skirt, you sighed. “Well, it means longevity, loyalty, and adoration. I can understand why. For one, these flowers last quite a long time. The adoration I guess is that so many people love them and the loyalty is my favorite part about them. “

Peter shifted to face you better, looking at you curiously. “Why is that?”

“Well,” you began, looking up at the bright blue sky. “It’s because the sunflowers always look up towards the sun. When it rains though, they look down because they are only loyal to the sun. The sun is their love basically. They look at the sun as if it’s the only thing to exist and whenever it’s cloudy or it rains, they look away. It’s kind of remarkable, even if people say they are only flowers.”

Peter’s heart swelled at your words. He was just making heart eyes at you now. Your mind was so bright and he adored it. Not only that, but he was loyal to you, the way the sunflowers were loyal to the sun. He needed to make that clear to you.

Trapping his bottom lip between his teeth, Peter finally spoke.

“Hey, y/n. I need to tell you something.” You turned your attention back to him and Peter cleared his throat nervously. “So, being a superhero is really tough and all the dangers I face are just crazy. One of my biggest fears is losing someone I care about and that includes you. I made a promise to myself that no matter what happens, you’ll be okay. I- I guess I’m trying to say that I’m going to be your sunflower. I’m going to be loyal to you always.”

It’d be a lie if you said you weren’t tearing up. Small tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you listened to him. Peter was practically pouring his heart out to you now. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever told you and coming from him, it meant the world to you.

“Look, y/n. These past few weeks have been absolute heaven. When I first meant you, you seemed so, so bright and to be honest, I don’t have a lot of lightness in my life. You make me happy. You make me so happy with myself and you literally are the joy to my world. I guess what I’m trying to say is that-”

Peter paused, unsure if he wanted to say it or not.

“-is that I think I’m in love with you.”

You stared in shock, your jaw slacking a bit. For once, you weren’t composed around him. You always strived to be calm and composed around others but with Peter, you just let loose.

“Peter,” you murmured, reaching over and lacing your fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze. “I love you the same way. I questioned it at first because the last guy I thought I loved ended up being possessive and controlling and ended up punching me after I went to go buy some flowers for my neighbor because he got mad that I didn’t tell him. I was a mess after that. It’s kind of hard to say I love you to someone romantically now but you made something click inside me.”

Peter’s face lit up as he stared at you. It seemed to be so fast, but Peter knew for a fact he loved you. His lips curled into an adorable smile. “I actually - instead of taking you to dinner like I planned to, I want to surprise you with something. I’ll be up here tomorrow at five o’clock to pick you up.”

You nodded and Peter stood up, about to grab his backpack before you placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face you and carefully, you delicately cupped his cheeks, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. His eyes widened in surprise and shock. He stared at your closed eyelids before melting into the soft kiss. Your lips were warm and soft against his cool and thin ones. It was sheer perfection. To be honest, Peter never wanted it to end. His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you forward slightly while your thumb brushed against his cheek. You both pulled away, your forehead pressed against his.

Peter let out a breathless chuckle, smiling down at you. “That was amazing.”

“Mhm, I think so too,” you giggled. Finally, you pulled your head away. “I believe you’re supposed to be helping May with some donations in fifteen minutes. I think that means you got to leave now. “

“Just one more kiss?”

↳ taglist — @hey-its-grey @natalia-rushman @glimmering-gamora@lovesick-valkyrie @pufflypuffle @uglypastels @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @spidermansmj14 @simi11 @abby-blxck @pxterbpxrker@softboydeacon @scoobieboobiedoo @euphoricmads @not-jay-c@bbyaubergine @marveley @jammelchinas @daphsingsalot

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jinhogwarts · 6 years

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list of my jinho ships~

idk why but i felt like writing a breakdown of all the ships i have for jinho... some are obvious or popular but i have a few that even i don’t really know why i ship them so much but i do ;~;

will do it under a ‘read more’ bc i have no idea how long it will be lol

Jinho/Hongseok: probably the most obvious (and popular) one. i mean, i even have an entire blog dedicated to this otp (@jinhongseok0417) and even wrote a full analysis of their relationship and why i think they’re so close (you can read it here if you want!). before pentagon maker started when i first heard that one of the members is an ex yg trainee i thought it would be funny to ship him with jinho (before i even knew who he was) bc jinho is ex sm trainee and in the end they both ended up in cube... and then when pentagon maker started they became like the biggest otp ever (well maybe other than huidawn but they’ve been married for years so) and just... ;^; i love their relationship so much, they’re my #1 ship ;^;

Jinho/Suho: yes, you read that correctly. yes, i know they never actually interacted or even talked about each other. b u t. as i’m sure everyone knows, both of them were in the original debut lineup as sncj (before it turned into m1 and m2 aka exo k and exo m) and just... here’s the thing. when exo debuted i was a huge exo l (idk if anyone here has been following me long enough to remember that time lol) and i was also a huge shipper so i wanted to have a ship for every member, only at that time i didn’t have any otp for suho (i had some ships for him but with people who had other otps) and i was like... “oh i know!!! that’s because his otp just didn’t debut with them!!!” and for y e a r s i was obsessed with this weird non-existent ship. up until pentagon maker started and i moved on to jinhongseok lol. i’m still highkey hoping they’ll meet eventually but... we never even had any info about them being friends even when jinho was still in sm so i’m doubt that will ever happen lol

Jinho/Chanyeol: so while i was obsessing over the weird 2ho ship i invented in my brain, most people who liked exo from the teaser era or debut era shipped jinho and chanyeol. for a long time i had NO IDEA why... i think it was when i looked up fics of exo with jinho (back when i still read fics about exo) i saw they had a few and i didn’t understand the combination lol. the funny thing is that eventually after jinho debuted i still kept looking up stuff of him with exo and just trying to figure out the timeline of when he left sm, and then i came across a picture of him and chanyeol from... 2013 or 2014 i think it was? probably not long before he left sm actually... anyways i started to think about this ship more and more and realized how cute they would have been.. (also before jinho deleted his instagram they were following each other so~~) anyways these days they’re probably my favorite non-pentagon ship for jinho because chanyeol is a big fluffy puppy and i’m emo just thinking about them like all the time :(

Jinho/Johnny: ok so tbh i never followed the smrookies bc as soon as i realized jinho left i didn’t really care anymore lol and i wasn’t a huge nct stan at the beginning so whenever people talked about johnny and that he has to debut already i didn’t really care about it... but then, i don’t remember when it was, maybe around the time sm announced that he’s joining 127 but before limitless came out, i googled him for some reason and the first thing that came up was a picture i recognized as trainee seo youngho who i knew of back when i still cared about the sm trainees bc i thought jinho would debut with them. and only then it clicked that johnny and jinho probably knew each other for a long time bc they entered the company around the same time (i think, don’t quote me on that). i didn’t know if they were really friends or if they kept in touch with each other - until jinho tagged johnny in a kind of charity relay thing (where idols give something of theirs to sell for charity) which meant that he knows him well enough to tag him on that thing... and since then i became obsessed with them as a ship, i got into nct just for johnny (unfortunately 127 is my least favorite group out of the 3 lmfao) and even wrote an jinho/johnny ex-boyfriends fic (*cough* if you wanna read)... i’ve been waiting for so long for them to interact, and it took about a year until jinho FINALLY went on nct’s night night and even though they weren’t in the same frame they were sitting next to each other and they kept talking and smiling to each other every time there was an ad break and when jinho did aegyo johnny looked so done with life and oh my god i’m still emo about that ngl :”)

Jinho/E’dawn: probably my favorite underrated ship in pentagon ;^; it’s funny bc at first i really liked jinhongseok x huidawn and i was like “every ship between those 4 work, except for jindawn” but then i started noticing them and i realized that they’re actually????? perfect????????? like honestly i don’t know what it is about their relationship because their personalities are quite different but there’s SOMETHING that makes me go !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! every time they interact. i can’t even put my finger on it enough to explain why, but... next time you watch pentory or any other video with pentagon, try to notice their interactions and i’m sure you’ll understand what i mean ;^; please tell me i’m not alone with this ship ;;

Jinho/Hui: gosh, i always love the relationship between the leader and the oldest member (or leader and second oldest when the leader is actually the oldest). there’s just something really special about their relationship - a sense of responsibility, i guess? i think jinho and hui explained it best themselves in their recent allure interview; you can read what they said >here<, i’m referring to the first two paragraphs (but read everything if you want ^^). basically, the thing is - i can really see them leaning on each other when they can’t really lean on anyone else. jinho is the oldest so he’s supposed to be the person the younger members turn to for advice, and hui is the leader so he has to take a lot of responsibilities, but then jinho can always count on hui to help him as a leader and hui can count on jinho to help him as a hyung... i’m not sure i’m explaining it well but i hope you understand what i mean. another thing, though, is their supposed “rivalry” which doesn’t actually exist lol. basically bc they’re the main vocalists and they have similar vocal range it would be easy to assume they would be rivals (and they were for that one pentagon maker episode), but in reality they’re both so supportive of each other and they’re both strong in different areas and they both get good opportunities (hui is getting a lot of promotions from cube but jinho has magazineho and he did a musical) and just... idk it’s really cute how much they love and respect each other even though it would have been so easy for them to be at least a bit competitive with each other... ^^

well that’s pretty much it tbh. i don’t ship jinho romantically with any of the maknaeline because i find it weird (i’m the same age as jinho and i find that age gap kinda weird lol not as much now but when they debuted and were still minors), though i do love his friendship with all of them <3 but as far as actual ships, that’s pretty much it. i mostly ship jinhongseok which is why i don’t actually have that many different ships for him lol

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emjenenla · 7 years

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If You’re Gone, Maybe it’s Time to Come Home [SoC Fanfic]

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Title: If You’re Gone, Maybe it’s Time To Come Home

Author: Emjen Enla (Fanfiction)/emjen_enla (Wattpad)/emjenenla (Tumblr)

Teaser: (There’s an awful lot of breathing room, but I can hardly move) Or Kaz goes into a downward spiral after Crooked Kingdom.

Rating: PG-13/T

Canon/Timeline: Mainstream, post-Crooked Kingdom

Dominant Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, appearances of various other characters, a couple relatively minor OCs

Pairings: Kanej (Kaz/Inej), perhaps one OC/OC if you squint (and/or can read my mind)

Warnings: depression, panic attacks, anxiety, some drinking, Kaz being Kaz, Ketterdam being Ketterdam

Notes:

-I think the time has come for us all to admit that I’m not going to be posting as much as I once did. I’ve been really busy in the last year with school and work and my own original work. I’m not saying that I’m completely done with fanfiction, but updates might be pretty slow from now on.

-I did not intend for this to be a multi-part fic, but I was working on it tonight and realized that the part I have written (which I think it roughly half) was already over eight thousand words. I figured that I may as well release it in parts to make it a bit more manageable. I’m hoping this will be a two-part fic, but it might get up to three. Hopefully I’ll be done before I go back to college at the end of August, but I’m honestly not sure what will happen.

-I read the Six of Crows Duology over Christmas break and it (mostly Kaz, let’s be honest) has stuck with me ever since. This story is mostly inspired by the fact that I’m honestly really worried about Kaz now that his only real reason for living (revenge on Pekka Rollins) is gone.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Six of Crows or the song “If You’re Gone” by Matchbox 20.

Part One

(1)

After they beat Van Eck and Pekka Rollins, everything and nothing changes.

Kaz is now king of the Barrel. Of course, the rest of the gangs haven’t figured that out yet. Everyone is expecting Rollins to eventually dig his way out of the hole he’d fallen into. The rumor of him on his knees at Kaz’s feet is spreading through the Barrel like wildfire, but Rollins has been in power for so long that no can fathom the idea that his time as ruler might be over. However, Kaz knows that it’s only a matter of time before that minor annoyance is rectified.

He also has four million kruge slowly siphoning into his accounts. Between that and the shares of the Crow Club and Fifth Harbor that he bought off Haskell, he figures he’s easily the richest person in the Barrel and probably comfortably in the top fifty richest people in Ketterdam. Not bad for a person who was flat broke two weeks before.

Still he makes the rest of the people involved in the Ice Court job keep the payoff quiet. It won’t do any of them any good for people to realize just how much kruge they’re each rolling in. Kaz has built his life around stealing from the ridiculously wealthy and he’d rather not become one of those pigeons for some other angry upstart.

He should be ecstatic, even with the Council of Tides still breathing down his neck, but he’s not. Firstly, Inej is leaving. He’s not surprised, though, and he’s not going to try to stop her. He understands why she needs to go, he just…wishes she wouldn’t.

Inej and her parents stay for a few days so Inej can show them around Ketterdam. She’s always with them so Kaz tries to say out of their way. Being around Mr. and Mrs. Ghafa makes him nervous. He’s not positive, but he’s pretty sure that Inej’s parents know exactly how he feels about her. (He shouldn’t be surprised, nothing says “I’m completely and totally, illogically in love with your daughter” like “I bought her a ship so she can go fulfil her purpose in life.”) That transparency makes him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. He’s not ashamed of what he is, but he knows that he’s not the kind of boy that the Ghafas want their daughter to end up with.

(Will he and Inej end up together? He’s not even sure.)

He tries to tell himself that Inej is the only thing bothering him, but if he’s truly honest with himself Matthias is weighing heavily on his mind as well.

Though it’s a truth he’ll take it to his grave, he was not completely surprised by Matthias’ death. He’d planned hundreds of possible scenarios for the auction scheme and he’d known that the chances that at least one of them wouldn’t make it out were much higher than he would have liked. He’d also known that after Kuwei, he and Matthias had the worse odds of them all. If something went wrong, the rest of the gang had a chance of being able to vanish underground and wait things out. He and Matthias would be forever chased by the powerful people who wanted them dead.

Still, he hadn’t mentioned any of that to Matthias. He’d told himself that he didn’t want to risk Matthias backing out, but he’d known that Matthias would never back out while Nina was still in danger. There had been no excuse. Perhaps telling Matthias about the dangers would have saved his life, perhaps it wouldn’t have (they still aren’t sure what had happened, though Kaz has his theories). Either way, the idea of Matthias going to his death knowing it was a possibility seems like it would make things a little better.

Kaz has lost crewmembers before, but somehow Matthias weighs on him heavier than all those others. The night of the auction, after he left Van Eck’s—Wylan’s—house, he returned to the Slat. He made a mug of the herbal tea Inej keeps around and makes after big jobs when he feels like crud because of shear exhaustion. He couldn’t get it to taste right so he corrupted it with a double dose of a painkilling tonic and couple shots of whiskey because why not. Then he downed the whole vile-tasting thing in a couple gulps. His stomach was empty so the concoction hit him hard and knocked him out in a matter of minutes. He slept until late the next morning and expected to wake up feeling more like his normal self, but he didn’t.

He hadn’t felt quite right since then either, but it would be okay. He’d had low times before and he always snapped out of them.

It would be okay.

(2)

Inej leaves long, long before he’s ready. The night before the Wraith is due to leave, she shows up at the Slat and they spend a night wandering the city, just like they did before the Ice Court. Kaz leaves his gloves off and tries not to flinch when people come to close. Inej pretends not to notice when he fails.

“So how exactly are you planning to catch these slavers?” he asks while they’re walking down an empty street even though they’ve already talked about this a number of times.

“Well, first I’m taking my parents back to Ravka,” Inej says. “I want to see the rest of my family again, plus they’ll need a ride back. While I’m there I might try to add to the crew. Papa says that I have a couple cousins who might be interested in signing on and there are a lot of purposeless Grisha in Ravka now. After that, I start looking for slavers.”

“And how are you going to find them?” he asks.

“Well, I know there’s a slaver hideout somewhere between here and Ravka,” she says. “I don’t have the crew or experience to take it now, but knowing where it is will help me to intercept individual ships.”

He nods and they’re quiet for a couple more minutes while he considers if he really wants to do this.

“I’ve thought about what you said about me helping you catch slavers,” he says after what feels like an age.

“Really?” she looks at him. Her expression is passably neutral, but he knows her well enough to see the tension.

“I’ll help you,” he says before he loses his nerve.

A huge grin spreads across Inej’s face. She moves like she’s going to hug him and he leaps out of the way, wrenching his bad leg. The smile fades as she realizes what just happened. Her arms drop back to her side and her lips press together. “Thank you very much,” she says formally.

The mood never quite recovers from that.

(3)

More people show up to see the Wraith off than Kaz anticipated. He hadn’t realized Inej had integrated herself so well into the Dregs. Even people like Beatle and Swann who had tried to literally beat Kaz’s brains out a few weeks before are there. A small group of people crowd the dock as Inej and her crew off.

Kaz leaves his gloves on. The crowd isn’t big by Ketterdam standards, but the dock is narrow enough that people bump and brush up against each other. He knows that if he tried to go barehanded he’d probably end up having one of his episodes like the one in the prison cart. (He knows what the proper name for those is, but he feels less pathetic and weak when he doesn’t think of them by that name.)

He waits until everyone else has finished saying goodbye to Inej before he approaches her. They stand there, staring at each other, neither knowing what to say, how they should part.

“Remember to write,” Inej says. Perhaps that sounds sweet to someone who doesn’t know that they ended last night by coming up with a plan on how he can get letters to her and an overly complicated code so he can send her information without blowing his involvement. There’s nothing romantic about her telling him to write; it’s just business.

He wishes it wasn’t. He wishes he could tell her he loves her. He wishes he could throw his arms around and hold her until she agrees to stay here with him. He wishes he could kiss her just so he could know what it’s like.

Instead he nods stoically, showing no hint of any of his desires. “I will,” he says and the promise is too audible in his voice so he goes on with something cutting, “And try not to get killed. It would be a waste of perfectly good kruge I spend on that ship.”

Her expression is somewhere between fond and disappointed. When she speaks again, her voice has dropped to a near whisper. “Kaz, about last night-”

He does not want to talk about this ever, let alone in front of all these people. “Wraith-”

“Kaz,” she cuts in her voice rising slightly, but when she next speaks her voice is quiet again. “Don’t give up hope, okay? Just keep trying. It’ll get better.” Then she reaches out, takes his gloved hand and squeezes.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, but he finds himself nodding stiffly and squeezing her hand back. They stand like that for a couple seconds. He can feel the gazes of the other people burning into him. He’s uncomfortably aware that for most of these people this is probably the first time they’ve seen him touch someone in a way that isn’t violent.

He pulls away first and steps back to put a little more space between them. “No mourners,” he says because he doesn’t know how to put words to what he actually wants to say.

“No funerals,” she says. “Take care of yourself, Kaz.”

When he doesn’t respond right away she turns away and heads up the ramp onto the Wraith, leaving him in Ketterdam all alone.

“You too,” he says too quietly for anyone else to hear.

(4)

The next few weeks are busy ones. Kaz consolidates his control of the Dregs and begins to use his inside knowledge of the falsity of the plague to encroach on the territories of other gangs (namely Rollins’). He begins searching for more spiders after it becomes obvious that Roeder won’t be able to fill Inej’s shoes on his own. He quietly starts tracking down slavers and their compatriots.

He’s very busy. Given that, if he’s eating and sleeping less than he should, that’s okay. If he’s drinking more coffee and whiskey than he probably should, that’s okay too. He’s a general now, not a lieutenant, he has more responsibilities than he did before (never mind that he was practically running the Dregs before the Ice Court job).

He’s not trying to ignore his stubbornly lingering guilt about Matthias. He’s definitely not trying to distract himself from the gaping hole in his heart and by his side where Inej is supposed to be. He’s fine. Just fine, thank you very much. There’s absolutely nothing wrong.

Nothing.

(5)

A month after the auction, Kaz pulls his first job as leader of the Dregs. There shouldn’t be much difference between this and any other job he’s ever done. After all, after the Ice Court and everything that happened afterwards, Kaz is pretty sure every job he’ll ever do should seem easy.

Still, no one knows about the Ice Court, and it doesn’t look like anyone ever will. This is his first job as leader of the Dregs and all the gang members in Ketterdam will be watching and waiting to see if he chokes.

That shouldn’t bother him—if anything it should make him more confident—but it does.

The job is a raid on a particularly rich mercher’s private jewel collection. It’s a job that requires a fairly small number of members (himself, Anika, Pim, Roeder and Mina, the thirteen-year-old Grisha Heartrender he’s letting try for a position as a spider). The job also doubles as a chance to look through the mercher’s records to see if the vague rumors Kaz has been hearing about the man being involved in the slave trade are accurate.

The break-in goes off without a hitch. The mercher and his family are still waiting out the “plague” in a summer home and it looks like the servants have taken this as an opportunity to take a paid vacation. Once inside, he leaves the others in the showroom to bag the jewels while he goes upstairs under the pretense of doing some reconnaissance. In reality, he picks the lock on the mercher’s office door and goes through the man’s papers.

It takes him four and a half minutes to find the information he’s looking for. Yes, the man’s involved in the slave trade. Yes, he knows when the next shipment’s coming in. There aren’t any routes in the information, but there are locations of launches and when they’re supposed to come in. That information will be a start for Inej. It takes him three minutes to memorize the information, then he puts the office back the way he found it, locks the door again and gets back to the showroom before the others have time to start wondering what was taking him so long.

The rest of the job goes off without a hitch. They’re back in the Slat within a few hours a couple thousand kruge richer. As soon as he’s sure everything’s settled and the jewels are locked up in the big safe that only he knows the combination to, Kaz retreats to his upstairs rooms (he’s taken over Per Haskell’s office, but his private rooms are something else entirely). He lights a candle, gets out a sheet of paper and starts his first coded letter to Inej.

He takes all his self-control to focus on the business and not say anything pointless about how much he misses her.

(6)

He doesn’t get a return letter from Inej for almost a month and when one does come it’s a list of the ships they’d raided (mostly ones from that first list he’d sent her) and people rescued. Perhaps Kaz feels a little pride at knowing his information was put to good use, but mostly he wishes she’d have said something, anything about herself and how she was.

He forces those thoughts out of his head with a couple shots of whiskey, then sits down and writes her another completely impersonal letter about the new information he has for her.

(7)

Almost three months after Inej left, Kaz dreams that he’s in the harbor again, swimming for his life. Not that unusual an occurrence, especially now. He would have thought that his nightmares would have gotten better after he got his revenge on Pekka Rollins, but if anything, they’ve gotten worse.

Still none of that matters in this moment. He struggles to keep hold of the corpse under his arms and struggles to keep kicking towards the lights of Ketterdam which never seem to get any closer. His breaths burn in his throat, his teeth chatter from the cold, his chest is tight with fear.

A wave washes over his head. He almost loses his grip on the corpse but manages to pull himself back onto it at the last moment. He blinks saltwater out of his eyes, harsh breaths that are just a little like sobs ripping out of his body.

Then he looks down and realizes the corpse he’s clinging to isn’t Jordie’s but Inej’s.

He jolts back to reality in his bed in the Slat, blankets twisted around his legs, sweat soaking through his shirt and sticking it to his chest and back. He takes two heaving breaths before he turns and vomits over the side of the bed onto the floor.

When he’s done he collapses onto his side and twists his bare hands into the sheets. He’s been trying not to wear the gloves as much so he can surprise Inej if she comes back (when she comes back, Kaz tells himself, when), but now he wishes he was wearing them. He’s sure that if he was just wearing the gloves he could deal with this, but they’re lying on his desk in the other room and he’s shaking too hard to make it in there to get them.

He curls up in a ball, biting the insides of his cheeks so hard he tastes blood. He stares at the opposite wall until his vision starts to tunnel. Images both from his memory and from the dream play over and over in his head. He can’t stop shaking.

He lies there, almost too afraid to blink as the night drags by and sunlight starts to slowly creep into the room.

The sun is quite high by the time he’s able to get up and go retrieve his gloves.

(8)

Inej comes back to Ketterdam two weeks later. Kaz meets her on the dock under the pretense of having just been passing by. He can tell she doesn’t believe him, but he finds that he doesn’t really care. He’s just happy to be near her again. Her quiet, steady presence relaxes and completes him. He feels more like himself than he has in months. Which is relieving, but also a little scary, mostly because he hadn’t realized he wasn’t feeling right until it stopped.

“So, you managed not to die or destroy my investment,” he says jerking his head at the Wraith.

Her smile is superficially fond, but he can see disappointment underneath it. Her eyes shift to his hands, encased in his gloves. She doesn’t say anything but he knows what she wants.

“Sorry,” he says beginning to peal the gloves off. “Forgot.” His stomach clenches into a series of knots. He’s been wearing his gloves constantly since the nightmare, because the thought of that happening again gives him cold sweats. He feels ashamed; he really wanted to be less reliant on the gloves the next time they saw each other.

He doesn’t mention any of this as he tucks his gloves into his coat, careful not to let his hands shake. Inej is studying him, with her head cocked to the side. He expects her to have noticed his nerves, but what she says is, “You look tired.”

He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’s been trying to avoid sleeping as much as possible because he’s terrified of having a nightmare about clinging to her corpse again, so he just gives her a thin smile. “Been busy.”

Now her smile is definitely fond, he feels like he’s floating. “You do know that even demons need to sleep, don’t you, Kaz?”

(9)

She leaves again long before he’s ready. Again, he wants to beg her to stay, again his bites his tongue and covers his true feelings with biting comments. Still he stands on the dock and watches until long after the Wraith has vanished over the horizon. Though he’ll never admit it, he’s hoping she’ll realize that there’s more for her here with him than out at sea.

That’s ridiculous though, Inej is nothing if not a noble person. There are a lot of people in the world who need her way more than one demon-boy in the city of Ketterdam.

By the time he heads back to Slat, a cold rain has started to fall.

(10)

Several months later, the Razorgulls start a gang war with the Dregs. People have been slowly realizing that Pekka Rollins is not coming back. That makes things more difficult for Kaz. He’s been slowly moving the Dregs into Rollins’ holdings since the plague scare. Up until this point, people have just been letting him, assuming that he’ll regret it once Rollins comes back. Now that it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen, people realize that Kaz has been allowed to snag a huge amount of territory with little to no resistance.

The conflict with the Razorgulls comes down to a massive fight through the streets of the Barrel while the stadwatch stands by helpless to control the violence. Torches light up the night until it’s nearly like day as Kaz chases the Razorgulls general through the alleys near the fighting.

He comes out into a dark dead end and the general is nowhere in sight. He has half a second to wonder where he went before the man leaps on him from behind wrapping bare forearms around Kaz’s neck in a headlock.

The waters rise up before Kaz has time to breathe and he drops like a stone. Within instants the other general is on top of him, one bare hand around Kaz’s throat and the other punching him in the face. He was probably yelling, but Kaz couldn’t hear him over the ringing in his ears.

Kaz can’t breathe, he can’t think. He struggles against the weight of the body on top of him, looking for a way out. Eventually he gets his fingers around one of his hidden knives and stabs it into the other general’s stomach. The man’s grip loosens and Kaz is able to shove him off. He finishes the job, then collapses against the wall gasping.

He waits until he’s no longer shaking like a Grisha on parem before he drags the general’s body up onto a high balcony above the main body of the battle. He declares the war over and gives the Razorgulls an ultimatum: join the Dregs or die.

Unsurprisingly most of them opt to join the Dregs.

That surrender takes place a few hours before dawn but it’s still well into the afternoon by the time Kaz gets back to his rooms. He’s profoundly exhausted in a way he hasn’t been since the Ice Court and he can’t quite shake the tremors from the memory of someone else’s hands around his neck. He collapses onto his bed and loses his grip on the world.

He wakes up late the next morning by Anika pounding on his door with a list of questions, as exhausted as he was when he fell asleep.

(11)

The surrender of the Razorgulls nearly doubles the size of the Dregs. Granted, it’ll be a while before he can actually trust any of these new recruits, but the Barrel runs on strength. Kaz is confident he can win them all over given time.

One of the more interesting new members is a scrawny eleven-year-old boy. He’s newly orphaned and worked cleaning chamber pots in one of the Razorgulls’ hideouts. His name is Espen and his eyes gleam with the same cold, calculating anger Kaz sees in himself every time he looks in a mirror.

Perhaps Kaz should take Espen under his wing and attempt to put the boy back together in a way better than the way he put himself together. Perhaps he would if he was a better person. Perhaps he would if the mere thought of putting up with another person’s issues on top of his own wasn’t utterly exhausting.

So, he doesn’t try to help. Instead his foists the kid on Mina and tells her to teach him to be a spider instead.

Maybe that will be enough.

(12)

His letters to Inej are starting to get out of hand.

Not the ones he actually sends to her; those are just as impersonal as always. It’s the drafts of those letters that are starting to become problematic.

They’ve gotten long.

Kaz has always been a master of brevity when it comes to letters. He can normally fit anything he could possibly need to say to anyone into under a page. His average letter is only a couple sentences.

The drafts of his letters to Inej go on for pages and pages.

His words scrawl across the paper, rambling in ways that don’t sound like him, and to make matters worse, he’s not really talking about anything. He does talk about the Dregs and Ketterdam news sometimes, but mostly he just talks about how much he misses her and begs her to come back and stay with him.

He realizes that this is getting beyond ridiculous the night he writes almost thirty pages of a logical, step-by-step argument for why she should abandon her quest to bring justice to the slavers and return to being his spider.

He stares at the letter for a long time, a strange feeling of disgust and fear swirling inside him. He can’t possibly send something like this to Inej. Hunting slavers is her purpose, and she will keep doing it no matter what. All this letter would do is guarantee that she really will never come back.

He crumbles the letter into a ball and throws it into the fire. Then he starts another draft. He intends for this one to be a short, to-the-point passing of information, but somehow it devolves into an even longer argument. This one is about how he is a horrible, corrupt person with no hope for anything better and how Inej would really be better off if she left him behind and never looked back.

The sun has risen by the time he finishes this letter. He sits at his desk and stares blankly at the letter. He images that a normal person would probably be crying right now, but there are no tears for him. There haven’t been since that night in the harbor all those years ago. It’s like something about that night locked all his tears up somewhere inside him and threw away the key. He hasn’t been able to cry since, even as an act.

So, his eyes are dry as he looks at the letter, but his chest is tight. He has never hated himself, never felt a sliver of shame about what he is, but he feels it now. If only he wasn’t like this, maybe Inej wouldn’t have left him. Sure, she’s come back a couple times, but how long will it be before she realizes how much better off she is without him in her life and stops coming back? How long before she leaves him completely alone?

The sunlight creeps into his room. The Slat is coming awake around him. He has a million things to do. He’s the leader of the Dregs, he has everything as long as he does the things he needs to do. He knows that he needs to get moving, but he doesn’t want to. He’s empty and sad and so incredibly tired.

So, for the first time that he can remember, Kaz Brekker ignores his responsibilities, he shoves the letter aside, pillows his head on his arms and hopes things will be better when he wakes up.

They aren’t.

(13)

Kaz is tired.

He’s used to being tired—he has a tendency to ignore things like sleep when on big jobs and doesn’t sleep a normal amount even when he’s not on jobs—but normally he can just slam a couple cups of coffee and be fine. This is something different. Even with his veins seemingly swimming with coffee, he still finds himself fighting against a deep-seated exhaustion. Even sleep doesn’t seem to shake it, even though he’s sleeping more than he normally does.

He tells himself that it’s no big deal. He knows that his sleeping habits are unhealthy, and if they’re finally catching up to him, Inej would probably say it’s for the best. It’s not like he’s sleeping an insane amount, anyway. If anything, he’s probably just sleeping a normal amount now and it just seems like a lot because he’s not used to it. It will only take him some time to adjust.

Still, he is tired and it’s hard to care about any of the things that used to take up his full attention. He hasn’t destroyed the letter. He keeps it tucked carefully away in one of the drawers of his dresser, nestled among his ties and spare pairs of gloves. He takes it out and reads it sometimes, as a reminder of why he’s so lucky for the chances he’s had with Inej and why he should never expect too much.

(14)

He, Roeder, Mina and Espen are on a job. They get in easy enough, but while they’re bagging the man’s inappropriately stuffed safe, the owner of the house comes home. They all freeze in shock when they hear the front door open. Kaz had calculated that they had another hour and a half before the mercher came home from his mistress’ house. For a few blank seconds, all Kaz can think is “How was I so wrong?” then survival instincts kick in.

“Clear out,” he orders and they make for the windows.

They aren’t fast enough. Within minutes the stadwatch are on their tails. They’re crossing over the river when one of the stadwatch gets lucky and hits Roeder. The oldest spider takes a dive over the edge of the bridge and into the water. Mina skids to a stop on the bridge and stares over. “Dirtyhands!” she yells (he has never heard her call him anything else, even Brekker) “You need to do something! Espen and I are too small!”

A voice whispers that he should just let Roeder die, but he needs Roeder. Roeder is the only one of the spiders who’s obviously useful in a fight and he’s not about to lose that advantage.

“Take care of the stadwatch,” he tells Mina giving her a look he hopes she interprets it correctly. Then he thrusts his cane into Espen’s hands. “Be careful with that; it’s worth more than your life,” he says then vaults over the side of the bridge and into the water.

Kaz knows how to swim; he is honest enough about his own life to know that is a useful skill, but he doesn’t like it. The water in the river tonight is cold and the memory of the barge returns. Still he does his best to push it down and he lunges to Roeder.

He grabs the back of the spider’s shirt and pulls him into his chest. He wraps his other arm around Roeder’s chest and almost immediately has one of the biggest flashbacks he’s ever had. He is nine years old in the harbor clinging to Jordie’s body, he has little to no recognition of ever being anything else. His head goes under and the only thing that keep him from shoving Roeder’s body away is the belief that he is Jordie and the only thing keeping him drowning.

His free hand strikes something hard. He grabs on and manages to drag his head above water. His mind is whirl of panic and revulsion. He knows that he needs to get out of the water, but the panic is so much that he can’t move.

When another hand clasps around his arm, he loses himself completely and trashes, letting go of whatever he was holding onto completely in an attempt to get away. The hand doesn’t let go, actually another joins it and jerks him to a stop just as his head goes under again.

The next moment his heartrate starts to slow and the edges of his panic fade. He realizes that his head is underwater and kicks until he’s above the water again and can get a gasp of air. His vision clears and he realizes the person attached to the hands holding his arm is Mina. She’s kneeling on the pier he grabbed onto, water sticking her mouse-brown hair to her face and her gray eyes wide. She’s using her abilities to lower his heartrate.

Mina helps him pull Roeder and himself out of the river and they drag the spider onto the shore together. Immediately, Mina pulls Roeder’s shirt open and positions her hands over his chest. Kaz knows that she’ll now use her powers to draw the water out of his lungs. She’ll do it carefully so no one knows exactly what she did. It’s still dangerous to be a Grisha in Ketterdam, so Mina keeps her powers carefully under wraps. Kaz isn’t even sure if Roeder and Espen know she’s a Heartrender. She would have been careful to find a very subtle way to incapacitate the stadwatch when he ordered her to.

Kaz just wants to collapse and not move until he can breathe again, but the instant Mina starts tending to Roeder, Espen is in his face.

“What was that?” the little boy snarls with an expression that even Kaz will admit is slightly demonic. “What is wrong with you?”

“What are you talking about?” Kaz asks more to buy time than anything else. He almost winces at how wrong his voice sounds.

“You were supposed to save Roeder, not freeze and make Mina pull you out!” Espen has his face in very close to Kaz’s, so close that flecks of the boy’s spit hit Kaz’s cheeks. “What kind of general are you?”

Kaz wants to pull away and put miles of distance between himself and every other human in Ketterdam, but he forces himself to react to Espen’s taunts and closeness in the way that helped to earn him his reputation, the way that will save face.

He punches the kid in the jaw.

Espen, for all his bravado, does not know how to take a punch. The kid goes sprawling across the ground, gasping. Mina looks on in surprise. Kaz takes a fortifying breath and stands up even though his legs feel no more solid than the water he almost drowned in both tonight and all those years ago.

“You really should learn that you’re not in charge here,” he tells Espen, keeping his voice steady through sheer force of will. “You only have a place in this gang because you the good you outweighs the annoyance of putting up with you. Understand?”

Espen is staring. For once, he’s actually wearing an expression other than anger. He looks shocked and a little scared. His mouth opens and closes mutely.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kaz snarls. “Now, what did you do with my cane?”

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