#and Eldest would be already hypnotized for once

[stephstars08]

Rewrite The Stars

Neteyam x Metkayina!Reader

Warnings: ANGST, Tiny Bit Of Fluff, Arranged Relationship/Marriage, Forbidden Love, Arguments, Heartbreak, Weapons, Violence, Death, Controlling Behavior, Jealousy, And Possible Grammar Errors. (Let Me Know If I Missed Any!)

Summary: Before Y/N was even born she was to mate with the first son of Tonowari and Ronal who happened to be Ao’nung. Y/N was hoping that her parents would realize that Ao’nung isn’t the type of boy she wants to be with so when Neteyam and his family showed up she thought he was her escape. She believed that her and Neteyam were rewriting the stars but sadly Y/N’s hands were stayed tied to the promise her parents had already made for her.

Inspired Song: Rewrite The Stars by Zac Efron & Zendaya

Word Count: 2,356

Author’s Note: This has to be the longest story I have written in a while! I definitely suggest listening to the song before reading since it does reference some of the lyrics! THIS STORY IS ALL ANGST SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Y/N’s life started out just like every other teenage girl on Pandora till the Sully family showed up. Y/N is part of the Metkayina clan. Before she was even born she was to mate with the eldest son of the olo’eyktan who is the leader of the Metkayina clan. The eldest son of Tonowari and Ronal, who is named Ao’nung, was born first and then Y/N was.

Right when they were born their parents had them be around each as much as possible. As they grew up Y/N and Ao’nung were to always be around one another. Y/N didn’t mind it at first but as they got older Ao’nung became snobby and always made other Na’vi children feel like he was above them and better than them which Y/N wasn’t very fond of at all. She just couldn’t believe that in just a couple of years she will have to mate with him when he has an attitude that she completely despises.

Y/N has been hoping that one day her parents will realize that Ao’nung isn’t the type of guy she wants to spend the rest of her life with so when Y/N first laid eyes on the eldest son of the Sully family she was hoping that maybe that was a sign that she isn’t destined to be with Ao’nung. She was destined to be with Neteyam.

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

Y/N was out in the water with Tsireya on their ilus when they heard the horns signaling that the island had visitors so they made their way back to shore. Once they were close enough to the shore they got off their ilus and walked out of the water to see everyone in the village surrounding a Na’vi family that was from a different clan. Y/N could tell that they weren’t from the same clan by the darker blue of their skin and their different appearance such has their tails and arms.

Y/N noticed the younger son, Lo’ak was staring and flirting with Tsireya which made her giggle. But when Y/N looked at the older son, Neteyam she felt like she was hypnotized. When her ocean blue eyes met his yellow eyes it felt like it was just them on Pandora. When Ao’nung noticed he quickly became jealous so he wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder which made her break her intense gaze from Neteyam.

She couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed for looking at another boy in front of her own village. Everyone in the whole village knows she is to mate with Ao’nung. She was in complete awe staring at this boy that she just met. They haven’t even said a word to each other yet.

Tonowari and Ronal talked to Sully family Y/N just kept her eyes down at the sand. After Tonowari let the Sully family stay Tsireya told them she would show them where they will be staying. Everyone went their separate ways. Ao’nung and his brother Roxto left with Tsireya since their parents ordered them to help the Sully kids adapt to Metkayina ways. When Y/N reunited with her family and went back to their Marui.

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

Y/N decided to help the Sully kids since Y/N’a father is helping Tonowari with Jake. Y/N had created a bond with every Sully kid but you can tell that the one she’s the closest with is Neteyam. They instantly connected which Ao’nung did not like at all. He saw the way Y/N looked at Neteyam and the way Neteyam looked at Y/N. It was driving Ao’nung crazy. Y/N should only be looking at him and only him. She belongs to him. To make Neteyam back off Ao’nung told Y/N’s parents hoping that it would get Neteyam in trouble but instead it got Y/N in trouble instead.

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

Y/N walked into her mauri to see her parents waiting for her. She knew something was wrong by the worried look in her mom’s eyes and the sternness in her father’s eyes.

“What is going on? Is something wrong?” Y/N asked with a mixture of worry and concern in her voice. “You bet there is something wrong!” Her father snapped at her with anger in his tone which took Y/N by surprise. “Kylor please! Don’t!” Her mother pleaded to her husband. “No! She is not going to break the promise we made to Tonowari and Ronal.” Her father said which quickly made Y/N realize what was going on. “Who told you?” Y/N asked with a sigh looking down at the floor. “Ao’nung.” Her mother answered. “Of course!” Y/N said with a frustrated sigh.

“You are to stay away from that Sully boy!” Her father ordered her which made her heart sink down to her stomach. “What? Why?” Y/N asked in shock looking back up at her father. “You know why! You are to mate with Ao’nung and that Sully boy is getting in the way of that!” Her father told her in a stern tone. “But Neteyam makes me happy! He’s so sweet and caring.” Y/N told him.

“I apologize for going against your wishes but I know in my heart that I belong with Neteyam not Ao’nung.” Y/N said finally admitting it out loud. She couldn’t keep it in any longer. When she’s with Neteyam she feels safe. Neteyam is who the boy she always dreamed that she would spend the rest of her life with. That’s who she wants her happy ending with.

“You listen here!” Her father started as he walked closer to her which made Y/N’s heart begin to race. “If you choose to disobey your order you will not only be a disappointment to this family but you will be a disappointment to your fellow Na’vi ‘s as well.” Her father told her pointing one of his fingers at her. Every word that came out of her father’s mouth it felt like someone was stomping on her heart. She could feel tears forming in her eyes. “You will mate with Ao’nung and that is final.” Her father told her in a demanding voice. Y/N just stared up at her father with glassy like eyes. “Yes, father.” Y/N finally said with a slow nod as tears made their way down her face.

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

After dinner Y/N went outside to sit on one of the docks with her feet in the water. She couldn’t get the conversation she had with her father out of her mind. She knows she isn’t going to be able to stay away from Neteyam but she also doesn’t want to be a disappointment in her family’s eyes.

“I’m guessing that you had a rough day, too?” She heard Neteyam say behind her. “Yes, I guess you can say that.” Y/N answered with a sigh as she stared down at the fish swimming around her feet. Neteyam sat down next to her. When she looked over at him she noticed the cut on Neteyam’s lip.

“Neteyam! Your lip!” Y/N said in shock. “What happened?” She asked him with concern in her voice and a concern look in her eyes. “Lo’ak and I got into a fight with Ao’nung and his friends.” Neteyam told her with a sigh. She saw the ashamed look he had in his eyes which ticked her off because of how many times Ao’nung has put down others he’s finally pushed the wrong one’s buttons. “What did he do?” Y/N asked him. “He was picking on Kiri.” Neteyam answered which made Y/N’s heart ache. “I’m sorry.” Y/N said in a soft voice. “It’s not your fault.” Neteyam said locking his yellow eyes with her blue eyes.

Every time Y/N looks into his eyes she feels a strong spark go through her. As they stared into each other’s eyes they leaned in. When their lips touched they felt something in them that they have never felt before. When they pulled away from the kiss Y/N felt like she was walking on air. But it didn’t last long because when she heard her father’s voice in her head she snapped back into reality and realized what she just did.

“Oh no!” Y/N said quickly standing up. “What’s wrong?” Neteyam asked quickly standing up as well. “I have to go!” Y/N said but before she could walk away Neteyam grabbed her hand. “Neteyam! Let me go!” Y/N told him in a stern tone. “Not until you tell me what is wrong!” Neteyam said in the same tone she just used. “I just broke my promise!” Y/N told him as tears started to flood her eyes. “Promise?” Neteyam asked her.

“Before I was even born my parents promised Tonowari and Ronal that I would mate with their eldest son.” Y/N told him which made Neteyam feel like he just got stabbed in the heart. “You and Ao’nung are bond to mate.” Neteyam said with a mixture of sadness and anger in his voice. Y/N just gave him a nod.

“Do you have feelings for him?” Neteyam asked her with jealousy. “It doesn’t matter.” Y/N told him with sadness as a couple tears rolled down her cheeks. “The agreement has been said and done which makes my hands tied.” She added.

Y/N got out of Neteyam’s hold and walked away leaving him standing there all alone completely heartbroken.

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

Since that night Y/N and Neteyam have kept their distance away from each other which didn’t last too long. When the whole village gathered Tonowari told everyone that their village is being threatened by the sky people. Seeing everyone getting riled up it was getting Y/N very scared and over whelmed so she ran away from the crowd. Neteyam knew he had to follow her.

“Y/N!” Neteyam called out to her which made her stop walking. “Why did you follow me?” Y/N asked turning around to face him. “Because I’m worried about you.” Neteyam told her. “Neteyam-“ Y/N started to say but he cut her off. “I know that you’re to mate with Ao’nung but I know you feel that same way I do.” Neteyam told her.

“When we kissed that night you had no intention pulling away.” He said as he moved closer towards her which made her heart race. Y/N knew every thing he way saying is the truth. That’s why she ain’t running away from him because she knows she can’t run away from the truth. “We are meant to be together.” Neteyam told her putting one of his hands onto her cheek. Y/N leaned into his soft touch as he stroked her cheek lightly.

Before anything else could happen they Tsireya calling Neteyam’s name which quickly made him take his hand off Y/N’s cheek. When they looked over they saw Tsireya running up to them with Ao’nung and Roxto. “Lo’ak is gone!” Tsireya told them. “What?” Y/N said in shock. “Where did he go?” Neteyam asked her with sternness in his tone even though he had a worried look in his yellow eyes. “He went to go get Payakan.” Tsireya answered him. “Kiri and Tuk left to go follow him.” Roxto added. “Let’s go! They can’t be out there by themselves.” Neteyam told them.

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

After Neteyam left Y/N and everyone else with the tracker that was on Payakan Y/N got captured by Quaritch and his crew with Lo’ak, Tuk, and Tsireya. Y/N tried her best to act brave at least for Tuk but when Quaritch put the barrel of his gun to Lo’ak’s head she really thought it was over but Payakan came out of nowhere and jumped onto the ship tipping it over knocking Quaritch and some of his men into to the water. Once the ship landed safely back onto the a water Neteyam jumped aboard which made Tuk call out her bother’s name in happiness. Neteyam cut Y/N and the girls first and then Lo’ak.

Y/N followed Tsireya and Tuk off the ship but she paused when she saw Neteyam follow Lo’ak in the opposite direction. Y/N was about to follow the brothers but Tsireya told her to come with her and Tuk so she did. After the girls got into the water Y/N and Tsireya tried to get at least Tuk to safety but she got captured again. The girls knew they had to go save her so they got onto their ilus. They spotted Kiri tied up with Tuk but before they could find a way back onto the ship without getting caught they heard Lo’ak’s voice.

They found him in the water with Neteyam and a human boy so they went over to them. Y/N noticed blood in the water and before Y/N could say anything Lo’ak told them that Neteyam got hit with a bullet. They knew they had to get Neytam to a safe place so Y/N told them to help Neteyam onto her ilu. Lo’ak got onto Y/N’s ilu behind Neteyam while Tsireya let the boy ride on her ilu with her. As Y/N led they away from the ship with her ilu Tsireya told Lo’ak that Quaritch has his sisters but he knew he couldn’t go back right now since they had to get Neteyam to a safe place.

Lo’ak saw his father land on a big rock he called out to him saying Neteyam was hurt. Jake quickly saw they and Neteyam wounded so he waited until they got to him. Y/N and Lo’ak helped Jake get Neteyam onto the stone and out of the water. As the boys stood around Neteyam and helped him Y/N stood back with Tsireya. When Neytiri showed up after Jake called for her Y/N already had tears rolling down her face. It was breaking her heart looking at Neteyam in pain and hearing with voice get weaker and weaker. She was hoping that Neteyam was going to be okay but sadly their wasn’t enough hope.

Neteyam died in front of everyone. As Neytiri screamed out her son’s name everyone had tears rolling down their faces. Y/N immediately felt emptiness. When Neteyam told her that they belong together she actually believed it.

She felt like the stars were rewritten but they weren’t and she again felt like her hands were tied.

#Neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x metkayina!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #Neteyam x female!reader #Neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x fem!reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #Neteyam x Reader Angst #neteyam angst #Neteyam one shot #neteyam imagine #Neteyam sully imagine #avatar imagine #avatar x reader #avatar x y/n #avatar x you #avatar x fem reader #avatar x na'vi reader #jamie flatters #Jamie flatters x reader #Jamie flatters imagine #avatar #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar fanfic #avatar fanfiction

[laughingwith-bluelips]

Okay, but imagine this:

Since they've been encountered with changewings time and time again without this happening, the riders are completely oblivious to the fact that they can hypnotize them. Like, not one single time it has happened to them.

And then Viggo and the hunters decide to use the Changewing hypnosis to separate them from their dragons but ultimately the humans are the ones that are hypnotized.

I don't know where I would go from there tbh, I just know I would totally read that fanfic

#httyd #defenders of berk #httyd dob #httyd rob #httyd race to the edge #changewing #I'm n love with this concept #also #them being able to control humans means it has nothing to do with language #i get it's a book reference #but it's the first time the power of a dragon actually afects a human #I'm thinking about that half brothers au #you know #where book hiccup is movies hiccup lil brother #he'd be fucking mesmerized #like ”DONT LOOK AT THE DRAGON IT CAN HYPNOTIZE YOU“ #and Eldest would be already hypnotized for once #im just saying stuff without control now

[cheeseceli]

SKZ falling for their make up artist

Pairing: skz ot8 × Black gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff

Request: yes! (lmk if it's like you wanted)

Warnings: Reader has braids in Hyunjin's one and is implied to paint their hair in Felix's one, mentions of food in Minho's (and food places like restaurants in Chan and Jeongin's)

A/n: I accidentally posted this one before it was ready and then I had to delete it now I am mad💀 i really need to pay attention to the things i do

Bang Chan

Ok so fun fact

He met you before knowing you were his new make up artist

He just saw you at jyp cafe looking like an angel when he decided he would make small talk with you

But luck was not on his side (or was it?) because it was golden hour and you guys were sitting near the window

What does that mean? The sun rays were all over you, making your brown skin glow and your eyes hypnotized him

Consequences? He was so focused on appreciating you that he forgot to ask for your number

You can imagine how sad he was once he realised it

But! Imagine his surprise (and happiness) when he met you at the recording of one of their mvs four days later

He made sure to ask for your number properly this time

He always makes sure he is the last you'll make up so there is no rush and he can have you all for himself for some moments

Absolutely adores how excited you look like when talking about your work

He even convinced the management crew to put you as the tour's make up artist because he needed wanted you there

Lee Know

You'd probably hate him

He just happens to be a menace to people he likes

So he might or might not wipe off and ruin pieces of the make up just so you have to retouch it

"did you make up here? And here? I think you should check or do it again yk" typa thing he'd say

Don't get him wrong, he just wants to spend a little bit of time with you

But he doesn't know how to do it without making you rethink all you life choices and pissing you off

But he also brings you food backstage to make up for it

And if you have any pets he would be like "our pets should meet each other!!"

Anything to see you outside of work

And if you're on backstage during one of the stages/recording/practices he will put 200% effort on his performance

He needs to impress you of course

Changbin

Compliments you right away

He doesn't even know your name but he is already telling you you are blessed by Aphrodite, the prettiest person to ever exist in earth and all those things

He has no shame

You know that cute couple thing people do with make up/skincare where one of them sit in the other's lap while applying the products?

Lmao him

He will not loose one single chance of having you close while you're making up him

So if you ever want to try something new like a new trend or just something that came up on your mind, he will be the first to volunteer

And if you have an account on any social media to talk about your work, he follows you and comments on every single post

Hyunjin

He's beautiful and he knows it

100% use this as an advantage

Will make eye contact with you all the time being

And will smile to you in the sweetest way possible everytime you are close to his face

Once you were making him up for the s-class mv recording but your hair kept falling in your face

So he just pushed one of the braids off your face and kept smiling and looking at you like it didn't make you malfunction in 30 different ways

Has the audacity to giggle after you're embarrassed

But try to flirt with him and suddenly he is the blushing mess

He is also such a hype man, it's so cute

If he ever publishes a pic of him on insta where you're the one who made his make up, he will praise it on the caption

Han

He didn't even know you existed until he visited Chan while the eldest was doing his make up

He was speechless when he first saw you

And he had a really serious talk with Chan concerning the reason you weren't his make up artist

The next day you were asked to add Han in your list of who you needed to make up

Totally a coincidence, it's not like he begged chan and the management crew to have you as his artist

The moment he gets to talk with you he tries to impress you

Jokes, talent, beauty, anything

If you laugh at at least one joke, his efforts will be payed off and this man is on cloud 9

Felix

You'd probably hate him pt 2.

I'm sorry but he just can't shut up lol

You're applying lipstick on him? Well, he has this urgent gossip to tell you so good luck with that lipstick

You're applying eyeshadow? Unfortunately he cannot keep his eyes closed because that would mean not looking at your eyes, and he has his priorities straight

The list goes on and on

It might be a little tough but! it's so worth it

After you're done he is ready to compliment your job and praise your skills every single time

As he should

You know how some couples match outfits? He'd like to match make up even if you're not on the dating stage yet

And maybe even match hair colour

Seungmin

The most subtle one

And your dream client

He keeps still while you're applying make up, compliments your work and is always so polite

He tries to be the first one you'll make up so after you're done with him, he can follow you around while you make up the others

Will talk to you during the process (and will take advantage of the fact the kids cannot reply because they need to be still) and will even try to help you with organising your products and handing them for you if you let him

Will try to learn a thing or two about make up on his free time because he wants to impress you

If you do artistic make up as well he would love to see your past works

Might even suggest the management to have something like that in future mvs

I.N

Doesn't move

Doesn't blink nor talk

Actually, sometimes he doesn't even breathe so you need to remind him

He will giggle and brush it off but let's be honest

He is so nervous around you

Once you notice it (trust me, you will notice. It's so obvious it hurts) you will try to small talk and this will, slowly, make him relax

Now that you guys are comfortable around each other he will initiate most of the conversations

He talks to you during breaks, he asks your opinion on his outfits and sometimes he also wants you to make him up for casual outings like going to a restaurant

Even after dating, he still gets nervous because of the proximity

#that was so fun to write about!! #let me know what you think about this #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids soft hours #stray kids soft thoughts #skz #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz headcanons #skz drabbles #stray kids drabbles #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids headcanons #han #changbin #bang chan #felix #lee know #hyunjin #Seungmin #I.N #maknae on top #han jisung #jeongin #yang jeongin #celi headcanon

[imaginesandideas]

The love of the Endless

i’m sharing here what is meant to be the first chapter (out of gods know how many). for now, you may expect angst, alternating POV, soulmate AU undertones and reincarnation related themes 👀👀 

gender neutral reader ofc ❣️

for more details and upcoming chapters, hmu on A3O!

~~~~~

A stinging pain where one’s heart should reside, but could the mighty Desire have a heart after all?

What is this feeling, this tearfully painful fire burning from within, begging to be let out, begging not to be suppressed. To scream.

You’re as beautiful as the day they left you. The hair slightly different, clothes suitable for the current human era and yet somehow completely unmistakeable. Completely you.

And you just passed them by, down the street in a pouring rain, just like that, and yet completely knocking Desire of their rhythm. As if time on Earth never existed, as if it never touched you, not even once.

Unaffected by the centuries that passed you both by. Hundreds of years of what should have been only longing and loneliness.

Or maybe you’ve been blessed with the sweet oblivion, leaving your heart free and your mind curious and bright. Just the way you were when they’ve first met you, when Desire crashed right into your conventional little life.

In the darkest of ages, you, a mere mortal, too smart for your own good, too captivating for Desire to resist you.

But could it really be you, after all this time?

After so much time, so many centuries. You should have been… dead.

„Oh! Excuse me sweetheart, didn’t see you there.” Another pedestrian too polite for Desire’s liking. The person was even as blatant to continue speaking but the Endless dismissed their presence entirely.

In the midst of all this astonishment Desire’s powers somehow remained intact. And yet their golden gaze was glued only to you, following your footsteps on the cold damp pavement, persuasive as ever.

But still, they couldn’t draw your attention.

Those piercing eyes were now also a reflection of unfamiliar and undesired desperation.

If their siblings could only see them now, stripped of usual confidence, smirk washed off their face, speechless while their skin burned from within. A sight for Dream’s sore eyes, Desire would think.

Maybe it’s their sibling’s vile trick after all? What if they all teamed up in a cruel payback for the times they’ve been fooled by the power of lust? Did Dream have something to do with this? Were you just a projection, another project of his?

Your pace is fast, you’re in a rush, but where are you going? Do you have a spouse, are you married? Desire should know but feared the answer all the same. You’ve probably been in love a thousand times already ever since they’ve left you. How could they’ve left you…

 That fateful night it was also raining, but the rain was much heavier, practically blocking out any other sound with its monotonous hum. Curtain-like walls separating people from one another on the streets, those who dared to walk outside at least.

Desire’s just exited another one of the feasts held by a local nobleman after they planted another successfully spreading scandal in high society’s circles. It’s always been easy to play with people’s darkest desires just to sneakily smuggle them into the spotlight. The public will boil, there will be more and more lies spreading around. That part has always been enjoyable for the young Endless, but suddenly Desire’s attention crumbled into dust with the most captivating pair of eyes they’ve ever seen.

And those eyes stared right back into their golden flaming ones with such intensity and adoration that the infamous Endless, having handled their business already decided to stay on Earth a little longer.

 It started off simply, with lust and Desire’s charm - their eldest trick of all. But from the very beginning something felt different than all the other times with all the other ones.

You didn’t even seem to need those tricks, their magic, the hypnotic look in their eyes. Enchanting, but unnecessary. Because the desire was already there.

Then came love.

Nothing can ever be too easy for too long, not in this world. You had dreams, undeveloped potential, desires you were too shy to reach out to.

Desire felt like they were stopping you, holding you back with their endless life and duties. They knew that eventually you’d start asking questions, you’d think that they’re cheating or hiding something from you. And Desire just knew that, cause they've grown to know you, they've grown attached. You were too smart not to notice things.

Just the way you would notice how others stared at them in awe as you walked together. And soon enough you started to recognize the lust and adoration in people’s eyes when they caught Desire’s gaze. Your Desire, your love.

And then came the preachers, the envious who’d spit in your general direction, who’d send rocks flying through your window in the middle of the night, all the threats. Those would call you satan's emissaries, sinners. But is it ever a sin to love?

Desire knew back then that being with you, having you, was a privilege that they were abusing. It was no longer a game, nor was it harmless. Not when you and your life were at stake. Not when your heart was at a knife’s distance.

A day like that had to come, preceded by long nights of fighting and even longer periods of hiding away in their realm, away from you, thinking, seeking solution that wouldn’t require letting you go. Until one day they didn't come back anymore.

“Why are you following me?”

And there you are. The present day you. Close enough to touch. You look healthier, nourished, maybe even a bit younger perhaps. Features smoother somehow, but it suits you. Everything does.

Even your frown when a glint of confusion flashes in your gaze. It’s been so long, so long, and Desire cannot help the soft smile that graces their face. Of course you don’t understand, it doesn’t make sense at all, even to them! It’s impossible and yet…

Their brows twitch in an attempt to explain. But how does one explain so much.

“I-“

So pathetic for someone who belongs to the Endless, but what could they say when they’re so at loss for words. And you’re right there, in front of them, breathtaking just by being you.

Impatience and a dash of anger lingers in your voice when you speak again.

“Who are you?”

A heartbreak.

#desire the endless #desire x reader #desire the endless x reader #desire the sandman #my fics #full fic

[peeterparkr]

jaundiced & surreptitious; Anthony Bridgerton

sham, pride and illicit affairs | fic masterlist

read part one here read part two here read part three here read part four here

summary: you once loved each other, your hand belongs to him but it’s promised to another. 

jaundiced: affected by bitterness, resentment, or envy. surreptitious:  kept secret, especially because it would not be approved of.

word count: 8.3k (sorry I like writing)

pairing: anthony bridgerton x reader

warnings: anthony is an idiot, this is really idiots who are lovers, like genuinely they’re so stupid. poor benedict has to deal with him. 

wanna be tagged?

read part one here  read part two here   read part three here

next part.

Okaaaay so thank you so much for your support! I can’t believe you guys liked it as much as I did! Especial thanks to @steve-harringtonnn​ and @erodasghosts for helping me out with this chapter!!! 

Anthony would often disregard the pain he’d felt before. He would never say it out loud but he had lost faith after his heart had been broken. The sun had never been as warm. Grieving was one of his favorite activities to live by, silently, to himself. The bloody-minded Anthony would die before ever admitting that his feelings had been impaired.

He was obstinate, he was well aware of that. And he was scared, and he wondered where he’d gathered the courage to walk through the crowds to her two nights before, as if it hadn’t pained him. Perchance his pride had led him there, or maybe his broken heart looking to be healed did. The wandering thoughts that would cease every so often. 

Anthony loved to mourn, or make sure people think he was mourning. He often tried to be the smartest person in the room, he always failed. But he tried, and he counted himself on it. 

He was flawed, he knew that. But he would try his best, so he’d pride himself on.  However he could not forgive himself for being flawed enough to be rejected by Y/N. 

Her eyes were carved in his mind, and he’d be reminded of her every morning when the sun dared to warm his skin, and with every flower petal that he saw her eyes would find their way back to his most wounded intellect, her eyes were her biggest sin, though he could be blamed for other blunders, he thought her sight was the biggest offense, for her eyes could see through any of his lies and hypnotize him enough to lose his reason, or the lack of it. How inconvenient he found that every beautiful morning belonged to her, and it would only hurt his heart. How inconvenient was it that her entire soul mesmerized him. 

It was hard not to see her as a villain, however, maybe that’s why he tried avoiding the music, dancing was but another warning, triggering him of the night he’d seen the dress flying as she vacated the ballroom. And every time he found himself in the middle of a ballroom, he felt agony and despair. Anthony had always feared death, but he realized that he had already died once, when she’d left the ballroom. Being away from her had killed Anthony, and to be dead while still having to survive could be one of the most dreadful and painful things to endure. Anthony was now sure he’d died on that night, and he was sure that whatever death might feel like it wouldn’t be as painful as to be away from her. He thought his pain would be forever, that eternal sorrow. 

His hand had felt cold since she’d left. Though, one could argue that his hand had been warm since the night before, as if he’d finally come back to life. The act, as most immoral as it was, had been the closest he’d been to a heavenly discovery of love and life. A very magnificent distraction. 

There was light again. 

He would deny it, but the darkness was the time he felt the loneliest, hence why he had searched for Sienna’s love, an escape from the life he would’ve loved with y/n. He was so desperate to be covered on something else, to erase y/n from his body that he’d try to find the closest thing to love on someone. 

Worst thing had been he did find it, in a very unconventional way. 

He would rather be a rake to the world than to ever admit that he had been broken-hearted. A man shall never seem weak to the world, though he was broken. Hushed to the night. 

Yet, now he wanted to scream to the world that he was loved by the woman he loved. An iridescent glow coming from his chest, as he rode back home. 

He had chosen the prettiest of the flowers, though they were very little to recommend and they’d look pathetic and sad beside the beautiful woman. 

Anthony never liked being seen as a fool, yet he should not mind looking like one with her. Why would he be ashamed to say he’d fallen for such a remarkable lady. 

Gardenias and peonies. He knew she’d love them. Not roses this time, he found the roses to be very contrasting to the delicate gardenias. 

He couldn’t hide his eagerness as he’d arrived at his former household. Though he had not slept, he couldn’t have more energy. He hopped to the drawing room, in expectation to see the possible suitors that would come for Eloise, though she was not eager for them, and was rather trying to avoid any significant encounter. 

Anthony couldn’t hide the beam, as he tried the sweets that his mama had displayed. 

Eloise was plopped on the couch beside Benedict, as Violet tried to beg her to sit with grace and poise. Eloise had the latest copy of Lady Whistledown as Benedict tried to peek and read. 

“Stop reading that nonsense,” Anthony said. “Such a lovely morning, is it not?” 

Benedict scrunched his nose at his brother, mostly confused. Anthony stole one of the desserts Benedict had on his plate earning a groan from him. 

Lady Violet watched her son, “I would like to address your behavior last night.” 

The younger siblings smirked, knowing well that though their brother was an adult, he would often yet be scolded by their mama. 

Benedict chuckled, “How come, mama, his behavior was rather impeccable.” 

Eloise giggled. Anthony glared at his siblings. 

“To suggest a fake proposal,” Lady Violet said with severity. “Most imposing irrationality. You shall not play with such calamities.” 

“Do not worry, mama, a real proposal shall come soon enough, I shall be more rational in the future, ” Anthony declared. “Just this morning I sent Lady y/n flowers to thank her for her… most stimulating company,”  Anthony coughed. “And as an apology for my behavior.”  

His younger siblings looked up with confusion. 

“Are you going to propose to Lady Y/N?” Asked Eloise. 

Anthony cleared his throat, “I did not… say that.” 

Eloise frowned. “Did you not find her disagreeable? Or why else were you bickering-?” 

“Please, Eloise, that is Anthony’s way of courting, and I’m sure Y/N found it just as stimulating and flattering,” Benedict hissed. 

Eloise cackled, “as if y/n would rejoice in any avow Anthony could make.” 

“How come, brother you seem to be captured again in some possible infatuation when only last night you merely only barked towards the Lady?” Benedict inquired. Anthony tried to avoid his brother’s remarks. 

Of course, he would not tell them how his night had been accomplished, and how the despair had transformed into a very pleasant evening. He shall keep the secret for it was, though most pleasant, very unsuitable and outrageous for the standards of the society. Though Anthony did bear some guilt for the scandal and the impropriety he thought it was most  formidable to try and deny the linkage had been but an ardent reminder of his noble sentiments for the woman. 

“As you mentioned, brother,” Anthony remarked snarkly, “Lady y/n and I share a very perplexing demeanor to show our affection towards each other.” 

“Perplexing? Stupid, you mean,” Benedict mocked. 

“Is there affection?” Lady Violet inquired. 

Anthony huffed, “I guess there is no reason for me to harbor and censure my sentiments anymore,” he admitted. “However I shall not give any other explanation to this subject.” 

Benedict glared, “Why the sudden change? I thought you did not regard y/n so dearly.” 

Anthony paced around the room nervously, he did not want to address his feelings. How stupid would it be to admit he felt alive, and that he was entranced by her. 

“She is a good friend,” Anthony alleged. “Why are you enquiring my sentiments? I would’ve believed you’d be wallowed with my announcement.” 

His mother grinned, “I am.” 

“I am not,” Benedict laughed. “Forgive me, but you can understand my confusion, are you suggesting you are friends now?” 

“We have been,” Anthony hissed. “In any case, I’ve always been fond of her.” 

“I must signal how your bickering has hindered us from believing there is some kind of attachment,” Eloise pointed out as she watched her eldest brother. 

Anthony rolled his eyes, it had been a point in their bickering, to hide to them and themselves really.  But really, challenging each other was but their way of admiring their wit.  Anthony was stunned, not only with her beauty but with the way she spoke her mind. He was always left wanting more when it came to her, she rarely gave him anything but a headache, and apparently that was something very compelling to earn his heart. Not sure why. 

Benedict laughed, “I think I understand now Eloise, we seem to have forgotten how big of a fool our brother is,  the elusiveness Anthony has shown towards Lady Y/N has been but a lame attempt to tempt Miss Y/N and delude her enough for her to give some attention to our brother. Has it not?” 

“Has it succeeded?” Inquired Eloise. 

The night before was only proof it had. And it had not been elusiveness, he was transfixed on the lady’s wit, he couldn’t keep up with her, that was the reason. He was dotted with her surliness, the way she’d wag his words. Anthony loved being a fool for her, such a capable woman she was. However, it shall be noted he loved being fooled by her intellect and the false peevishness, not by her exclusion.

“What has?” Questioned Colin, as he had walked into the drawing room. Lady Violet was rather annoyed the only men in the room were but her own children and not any possible suitor for Eloise. 

“Anthony’s bickering,” Eloise looked up, as she reached for a box of sweets to nibble by her own. “Apparently his arrogance and stupidity were but to woo Miss Y/N,” explained Eloise. 

Anthony winced,“May we change the subject? I believe it is a matter of more importance—“

Colin laughed, interrupting him. “I believe those attempts have succeeded, were you not here last night? Was Miss Y/N not looking forward to not running away this time? Even after Anthony suggested such a scandalous scheme?” 

Anthony rolled his eyes, “Are you not to go elsewhere?” 

Benedict grinned, “Why? Are you not to share with him your news?” 

“News?” Colin frowned with curiosity. 

“Apparently our brother might attempt to court Miss Y/N,” Benedict mocked. “I believe.” 

Colin faked surprise, “Really? Are we suggesting that Anthony could have any sort of sentiments that aren't self depreciation and remorse?”  

Benedict and Eloise laughed, hardly. Their mother only directed a glare towards them. 

“How amusing,” Anthony barked. “However, if you must know, there is affection towards her and I must try and delight her,” Anthony cleared his throat, Benedict snickered. “And I hope she gives me the honour of accepting my hand.” 

He knew that the bomb he had dropped would be enough to shut his siblings. And it was. 

Lady Violet smiled, ignoring her sons and daughter’s remarks. “Are you really planning on proposing?” 

Anthony tried to hide his excitement, and embarrassment, for the matter, he’d never been keen on showing any kind of excitement for any infatuation. Besides, he didn’t believe it himself, how he would dare to propose. “I am not sure where my compliments might take me, however I am not here to talk about my attention and regards to Lady Y/N, we are here to try and persuade any respectable man to bestow any attention to our lovely sister.” 

“However, you shall make sure your infatuation is reciprocated,” Benedict advised. “Be sure the lady will not leave amidst dancing.” 

“I believe it was Anthony  the person who gave me the advice that eventually my heartbreak from Miss Thompson would disappear, and that it would be as if I had never loved her at all.” 

Anthony glared. 

“Yet he is going after the person who broke his heart, did your own precepts fail you?” Colin asked. 

It  was something that did bother Anthony, and that he did fear, he knew y/n to be the most unexpected and inopportune to make her decisions. She often hesitated and reconsidered her thoughts Y/N was very volatile and her emotions would go from extreme affection to utter rage and while it was something he often appreciated, it was something he feared now. He feared the remainder of his heart would be scattered across the place. Anthony would never say out loud how much he feared ballrooms now. Almost as much as he feared bees, but he wouldn’t ever admit it. He knew he was but a fool to fall for y/n, eerie and untamable. He didn’t regret it, however. 

Anthony coughed, “I could’ve never erased my feelings for her.” 

Eloise glared at him and then finally turned to her copy of Lady Whistledown. Anthony rolled his eyes, it was no secret he didn’t like reading Lady Whistledown. He would try and not feed her with anything. He was definitely not a vivid reader. He found her rather vapid, if he were honest. He was never a fan of gossip and avoided it, most of the time. However, since Lady Y/N’s arrival, he could not help but read whatever Lady Whistledown could say of her, just to feed his dislike against her. She spoke of y/n in a way that was most repulsive. Derision seemed to be the only language the woman spoke. 

He did not like the way the pesky Lady Whistledown spoke of y/n, or her history with him, if he was to be honest. Anthony resented that she’d written about his own pride and his heartbreak when there was barely any information he understood himself about it. It was for them to know. 

However, he was rather relieved that Lady Whistledown did not know of the… affairs he’d held with Lady Y/N. Though now guilt was killing him, he did not regret it. He felt alive whenever he was with her, and he didn’t feel alive often.

After the heartbreak, he had decided to lock his heart and never use it again. Though Sienna had managed to almost get it back, his heart had not felt the warmest but until the night before. 

 And though he had promised to never use his heart again, there he was again, with a foolish smile. 

“She is talking about you again,” Eloise pointed out. “And Lady Y/N-” 

Anthony chuckled, “Expected,” he commented. “Now, dear sister, there is no soul here and I must say this is not my fault,” he cleared out. “I have not jostled any suitors from you, I know better.” 

Benedict scoffed, “She jostles them herself, no need for us to.” 

Violet took a deep breath. Anthony smirked as he picked up a cup of tea. 

Eloise turned cold as she finished reading. “She is to be married-” 

“Who is?” Violet grinned. “You? Most certainly-”

“No, mama,” Eloise commented, and then watched Anthony. “Y/N’s hand is promised to Lord Collins.” 

The cup of tea shattered on the floor, though the Bridgertons were not sure if the shattering porcelain had been what they’d heard breaking. Anthony’s face had gone stiff and pale. 

“I beg your pardon?” Was all he managed to ask. 

“It says it here,” Eloise explained. 

Violet snatched the paper from her daughter, “Is she toying with the lack of heart Anthony Bridgerton holds and is she trying to fool everyone just to appeal more to Lord Collins, who according to the ton has her hand promised already?” Read out loud. 

“Did you know about this, mama?” Questioned Collin. 

“I certainly did not,” Violet assured her son, and turned to the eldest who was going through a very familiar feeling. He did not say a thing, he only clenched his jaw and widened his eyes. 

There he was again, transported back to the night when the moon had not made an appearance, and when the poison had flourished from the floor to apprehend him down to his sorrow. He felt as he had been pushed off yet again down a precipice. 

Benedict and Colin only watched him, expecting the very worst. Instead, Anthony only took a deep breath. Anthony despised having his heart broken, and instead decided to be angry, for its a manlier sentiment. He stormed off the room anyway, quietly. 

“Am I supposed to follow after?” Questioned Benedict, and then proceeded to, seeing as his brother rushed down the stairs and off the household. “Anthony!” He broodingly called. 

Anthony pushed his way through, not noticing there were gentlemen going up to see his sister, he was rather too angry to even add more jealousy to his displeasure. 

“Anthony,” Benedict called again. 

Anthony ignored. 

Benedict ran this time to stop his brother, stopping the fuming man as he glared at him. “What?” 

“I believe I should stop you before you do anything stupid, which judging by your look, you’re on your way to do so,” Benedict barked not letting Anthony through. 

Anthony gave him a warning glare, “Let me through.” 

“You’re being an idiot,” Benedict said. 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to do,” Anthony said 

“And that is why I must stop you,” Benedict said. “If I don’t know you any better you’re on your way to kill Lord Collins.” 

Anthony scoffed, he had not thought of that idea but now he found it rather exhorting. “I am on my way to speak to the Lady,” he tried walking through but Benedict stopped him once again. 

“Shall I know what’s going on through your head? Last night you both were  opposed to even being on the same room and then this morning you come with the idea of proposing, I do not even know what is-” 

“I love her,” Anthony snapped. “That is what is going on through my head.” 

“How did you even change your mind-” Benedict paused and then watched his brother. “Did you go and see her?” He asked in a faint whisper. 

Anthony coughed and looked elsewhere, “I did not, I just realized my childish act was but an antic to evade my actual feelings for her.” 

Benedict did not buy it. “Do you really expect me to believe that?” 

“I don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t,” Anthony glowered. 

“You really don’t?” Benedict bristled. “What amuses me is that you try to justify your childish acts and stupidity with love when we are both aware those are but a matter of your personality.” 

“How amusing,” Anthony scowled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” 

Benedict grabbed him by his arm, “I shall think you know better than to go and throw a tantrum to Miss Y/N. I know you’re capable of fucking up, but this goes beyond your usual behavior.” 

Anthony opened his mouth to defend himself but knew he couldn’t actually contradict him. “I do not plan on throwing a tantrum, I will only recover the flowers I sent her this morning, I find it improper to try and court an engaged lady.” 

“So you will not fight for her, then?” Benedict queried, astonied. 

Anthony did not know if he could. “Shall you suggest I do?” 

Benedict coughed, “I would think it would be reasonable but… In a civil way, not in an Anthony way.” 

“An Anthony way?” He questioned. “I beg your pardon?” 

“Since her arrival your stupidity has escalated in immeasurable ways, I certainly am very impressed because I did not believe that to be possible and yet you are here,” Benedict cackled. 

Anthony glared. 

“Look,” Benedict sighed. “We could give this more thoughts, and see the best way we can proceed with this, however, today we shall get our lovely sister to the park, she needs to be seen,” he reminded him. “You can be stupid later.” 

He would, Anthony knew. He was the most illogical human being when it came to Lady Y/N, and he did not know how to proceed. He was lying, he actually had planned on throwing a tantrum to her, for he was not yet to be fooled again and let there standing like a complete idiot. 

And a complete idiot you were too, you were the one in need to throw a tantrum, for you did not want to meet Lord Collins and you certainly did not want to be betrothed to him. You were well aware that he was a fair gentleman, and you knew he was one of the most eligible bachelors the ravenous mamas were hunting for, but you did not want anything to do with him. 

You thought of it, the possibility to ruin your reputation, it could be a way to untangle yourself from said arrangement. What if you admitted that you were corrupted? How big of a scandal would it be? 

No, you would not dare to bring Anthony down. Not now that he was being so soft to you, and that was not Anthony in the slightest. Though it did surprise you he had not yet stormed into the room like the complete idiot he was. 

Had he… read it? 

You knew Anthony better, he probably did not follow the gossip, and if you were lucky he’d think that Lady Whistledown was but inventing things. She was not but if he used any kind of reasonable sense he would know better. But this was Anthony and he used anything but his mind to think, and he would not be reasonable. He never was before and you doubted he’d be now. 

“I cannot marry him,” you said to Lady Danbury, who had been watching you pace around the drawing room for a while now. The flowers Anthony had sent were displayed in the middle of the room. 

You were not sure but you could tell Lady Danbury suspected something, she’d always been observant but the woman’s stare was telling, she could easily see past your sweating hands. 

“I’m afraid I’m not the one to make that decision,” Lady Danbury commented. 

“Shall I write a letter to my father to beg him to not offer my hand?” You asked. “Don’t I have any saying on it? It’s my hand.” 

“I would think you’d need to have another proposal,” The woman explained to you. “However, I am not sure if there will be any more.” 

“There might be,” you mumbled, and continued to rush through the room, as if moving faster would get your thoughts fast, too.  “Can I reject his hand?” You questioned. 

“He will grant you security,” Lady Danbury watched you, “He is a respectable man.” 

“I am well aware he is.” 

But I do not… love him, you thought. 

Yes, the man was respectable, and a very handsome one, but rather cliched. Eager, but the man was rather thoughtless. You knew his conversation was boring, only compliments and questions about the weather, he was very boring. Always agreeing, and what fun was it in someone always agreeing with you. And he liked to talk about the moon and made it seem like the most horrendous and tedious thing to ever be seen, he liked to talk about anything, but not any kind of pleasant conversation. Very tiresome if you must admit, full of banalities. 

Probably you’d have a very insipid life if you were to marry such a bland and hacky man. One that most ladies would want, however. 

Anthony, on the other hand, the brooding and plucky man, always had you on the edge. He was an adventure for you. He was incredibly handsome. Or maybe he wasn’t and it was just your nonsensical sentiments for him blinding you. 

“Lord Collins can offer an idyllic calm life.” 

“I can recognize that,” You admitted, you made your way to the window, a window where you’d talked to Anthony the day before. You took a deep breath, you could see the back house in the garden, a place that you found most intimate now. That was idyllic for you, the taste of his lips, to feel like it’s a June afternoon when it’s a cold December morning only because his smile warned your heart just enough. 

You were sure Lord Collins wouldn’t be able to offer that, and that he would not like to avoid the balls because he loved them, though you despised them. You knew he would not listen to your piano forte, though the melodies you played were very tepid, and telling. 

You knew you’d have to walk through his household, bored every morning and share the most ordinary conversations, leading to a miserable life, only because your hand had been promised to a man who you did not love, but who was adequate. Only because your instability had not been able to accept the proposal of whom your heart held dear. 

You still stared at the cottage where you could see the shadows of your hands. What if you escaped? Forever. Would he escape with you if you dared to ask him? 

“I presume security is the outcome expected from a marriage,” you said. “Love is a bonus, is it not?” 

Lady Danbury yanked her head. “I suppose so.” 

“Is marriage really only but a security arrangement? Or is it merely to satisfy men's lust and appetite.” 

The woman coughed in surprisement, “I would rather not engage on such improper subjects of conversation.” 

“Is it not?” You frowned. “I believe marriage to be only that, to bare children, to relieve men from their sins. Build a legacy.” 

“I believe marriage is also to prospere,” Lady Danbury added. “When a marriage is founded on love then it shall be the most prosperous, not sinful.” 

“Yet here I am, with an offer to a disagreeable partnership,” you barked. “I thought those arrangements to be deemed contemptible.

“Lord Collins is not disagreeable,” Lady Danbury coaxed. 

You sighed, “I guess not, he is a fair man, and most kind,” you admitted. You didn’t want to give in to your fate just yet. Seemed old fashioned, very 18th century. You were assumed to tolerate him, and you knew your father would not choose a beast for a husband for you. However, you did not want to dread this, to be offered tolerance and not love was an atrocious destiny. “I presume he can offer me a calm life.” 

Lady Danbury watched you, “However, Lord Bridgerton might be able to offer such a life, too.” 

You smiled, “He most certainly would not.” 

She raised her eyebrows, “Oh?” 

“No, not calm, Anthony is anything but calm,” you chuckled. “Maybe that is why the life he could offer me would be most enticing.” 

You knew that it would be fun, exciting. And that he would not mind if you woke up early to see the dawn, and he would join you and not expect you to be the most respectable lady, but he’d respect you, if you wanted to be respected that is .  

Lady Danbury only caressed the flower petals and walked to you. You needed to perish the thoughts of love, though. 

 “You’re never one to watch with melancholy,” She pointed out. 

“Oh, I certainly am, gloomy as I can be, and am I expected not to?” You wondered. It was the worst chastise one could have possibly thought for you, to marry a boring man. To marry to tolerate. 

“I guess not,” she admitted. 

You sighed. 

“He is yet to propose,” Lady Dabury remarked with mischief. “I know Lord Collins is respectable enough to want to court you properly.” 

“He wants to court me?” You questioned. 

Lady Danbury smirked. “Yes, though he is aware your hand is promised to him, he is someone who will pursue your love.” 

“My heart belongs to another,” you stated. “He will find it rather impossible to pursue my love.” 

Lady Danbury chuckled, “How impossible?” 

“Only one man has been able to conquer my heart, and his way of doing so was rather eerie and unusual.” 

Lady Danbury smiled. 

“I must ask, do you believe that if I ensure another proposal I might be able to rid myself of such entanglement?” You questioned. “After all, he’s not yet asked for my hand.” 

“Do you think you could ensure it?” 

“Probably already have,” you said. 

“And who may that be?” Lady Danbury asked, not because she did not know but because she wanted you to say it out loud. 

Before you could, a servant announced, “Lord Collins is here.” 

Your heart stopped, your bethrote. And suddenly the perfect morning you had had just hours ago had disappeared. You knew you could not stop the rain from falling but this particular sorrow was not the best way to receive the man who had your hand promised. You would not be able to smile and you would not be able to have any kind of courtesy. 

He walked in, though, the man was clean and proper. Handsome, with flowers. Red roses, freshly cut you could see. You saw one petal fall down as he approached you. How convenient, you thought, for you could find the petal on the floor more interesting. 

It felt cold, and you were unaware why. You’d fancied yourself in love with another man who was not offered your hand. 

“Lady y/n, good morning,” he said. “How radiant you are this morning.” 

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes, you were never fond of compliments. You also had the urge to run away. You wouldn’t, though it was tempting. He was a respectable gentleman, and respected he should be, no matter the opinions you held of him.  You found him very dull. 

Lady Danbury nudged you lightly, seeing as you had only remained quiet with your eyes wide open and with a wide strained smile. 

“My apologies, I seem to be inattentive this morning,” you answered. “Good Morning, my Lord,” you said. “Thank you for your compliments, and flowers.” 

Lady Danbury watched you with dashing hopes. 

“I was hoping I could tempt you with a promenade on this fine day,” Lord Collins grinned. “I know how fond you are of walking.” 

“How lovely,” you said. 

How dreadful, you thought. You were, though, fond of walking. Gave peace to your mind, and it had helped you those months before, to try and suppress the memory of the eldest Bridgerton. It had most certainly failed you.  

Before you could even think of escaping, you found yourself promenading with Lord Collins, the sunlight was indeed lovely, and there was barely any sign of the storm from the night before. Lady Danbury was following shortly behind. 

Was there any sign of your compromised body? You wondered if they could tell, maybe it was noticeable.

You wondered if Lady Danbury noticed how jaded you were, as you faked to listen to the man talk, and talk, and talk. Whoever told men they were interesting to listen to was clearly deaf or another idiotic man, for who could ever find joy in listening to such banal and brainless individuals. However,  he did not cease his talking. He never listened to you, you’d barely said any words. 

It gave you time to go away to whatever world you could escape to, and you thought about how much Anthony did listen. He did converse with you, and he did listen, mostly, you knew, because he loved to pride himself on being brooding and pensive and quiet. You could say that it was because he was but a fool and not a single thought roamed his mind, but whatever his reasons were, you loved that he would listen, even if it was only to contend and fuss you. 

There was magic in Lord Collins, you had to accept that. The man was so interested in listening to his own thoughts that he did not realize you were not nearly even paying a gram of attention to him. You guessed that if you did end up wedded to this man, the positive outcome was you did not have to try and pretend to be interested, for he would not notice. 

Your mind was trying to find a way to reject him, knowing that Lord Collins was honorable enough to accept your rejection. But how would you reject him? 

Why had it been so easy to reject Anthony, the man you loved, but it came nowhere as easy to reject Lord Collins, a man who you had no sentiment for,  perchance just indifference. And would you even be able to? Your hand was promised, and though you believed Lord Collins to be a fine gentleman, you knew he could show his dark side, every man had one. 

Though you’d met him before, he had claimed to love you. Lord Collins had once said it to you. 

But you didn’t love him, you couldn’t possibly. How could you? After Anthony, no one would ever touch your soul and heart  like he had. Though he was a wrecked mess, he was the man who you decided to hold dear to your heart. 

Perhaps you could admit you were corrupted, and maybe Lord Collins would end the disgraceful engagement that was yet to come. 

Your glance diverted on the park, the trees and the flowers that had bloomed this season, lovely, or so bad Lord Collins pointed out. The other couples trying to court, and their respective chaperones. Vicious mamas in the haunt, some of them sending you the most unwelcoming glares. 

You were walking near the tents, you  saw the Featheringtons’, with their bright colored clothing, you wondered how they could be so deficient in their clothing taste. You did not know what had happened to them, a man was standing nearby and you knew barely anything about their story after Lord Featherington passed. Penelope was your favorite of the Featheringtons, you often believed her to not belong in such a pitiful family. You acquainted them from before, knowing that Prudcence and Philippa often showed their slight infatuation with Anthony. You never blamed them but thought of it rather foolishly.  Though at some point you did find it annoying, how dare them fancy the same man you did, though you were thankful that Anthony saw them as piteous as you did. You wondered if they had continued to try and impress them with their dubious talents, you had nothing against them, honestly, before you’d learned their infatuation you liked them just fine, however after learning they fancied him, you were not as courteous with your regards. 

It was no secret you were a jealous person, but Anthony was, too so it balanced. You always were thankful that Anthony despised dancing, as much as you did. You barely could deny any invitation to dance but at least he did not dance with anyone else. 

You kept your way, and then another tent was seen, the Bridgertons. Displaying the family in their splendour, as they were sitting , with Eloise quite unamused. You knew she’d rather be dead than to face any possible forms of courting. 

Your breath failed you, as the dress felt rather tense. You did not want to see the Bridgertons and you knew Eloise had most definitely already read Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers. She would know, and besides, the man was by your own side. 

Lord Collins, still absorbed in his own conversation, pranced beside you. You tried not to see the family, knowing that they’d end up feeling your stare and Anthony would see you. 

Did he know? 

But your glance could not be stopped, as you then glanced again, and it had been as if it was planned, for his sight was locked with yours. His eyes widened as he watched you. With terror. 

In all honesty, all you wanted to do was to drop and shove Lord Collins out of the way and run to the man who’d compromised you, body and soul, but who you loved nonetheless. 

But he was glaring at you. Or at Lord Collins, or at both. 

You saw him quickly rise to his feet, for he had been plopped on a stool. He didn’t do anything but to stare at you, as if with merely staring he’d be able to get the man away from you. His eyes tried to work as daggers, and they often did, his glance though most adoring to you, was now nothing but frightening. 

You knew Anthony well enough to know he was tormenting with jealousy, and if you knew him well enough, you could tell he was idiotic enough to believe that Lord Collin’s sentiments were reciprocated. 

Anthony was fuming, though you were not sure if it was jealousy, or if he believed to be fooled again. You wished it was only jealousy. 

He was about to walk your way, but you saw Benedict rise to stop him, he failed. 

Anthony was making his way to you even when his family had tried to call for him. He ignored them, he was good at doing that. 

Lord Collins wasn’t even aware of how you had lost your breath and how you had held some type of staring contest with the oldest Bridgerton, whose hands were in fists as he decided to go on a different route instead, Benedict on his heels. You watched him approach the Featheringtons, you saw eagerness in Lady Featherington as she ushered Philippa to join Anthony. 

You scowled, what in the world was the man doing? You believed him to be stupid, but stupid enough to make a Featherington join him in his promenade was rather a most idiotic decision. 

Your eyes were glued to him, unbeknownst to Lord Collins, as Philippa was rather ungraceful as she walked along Anthony. Benedict was also joined by the other sister, Prudence, who also seemed to be happy to be joined by a Bridgerton. You could listen to their absurd giggles from afar. 

Did Lord Bridgerton think the Featheringtons would bring you jealousy? If anything the animosity was for the thought alone that he would think it would bother you. 

But Anthony was walking fast, and poor Philippa could barely keep up with him, you chuckled to yourself, it was amusing to think the poor girl believed she was actually being courted and rather not used as a jealousy device. 

“Collins,” Anthony called as he was close enough, Philippa watched you. “Lady Y/N, how delightful to see you both here.” 

Benedict threw an apologetic stare at you, before yanking his brother’s arm. Prudence gushed after. 

“Lord Bridgerton,” Collins gave him an unfeigned smile, as he was finally restored from his conversation. “Such a fortunate coincidence, ladies, how beautiful you look this morning.” 

You wondered how big of a coincidence it was. 

“Anthony,” you quickly said but then cleared your throat, “My apologies, Lord Bridgerton, how delightful to encounter you,” you said. “Philippa, Prudence,” you smiled at them as they tried to not glare at you. “Lord Bridgerton,” you saw Benedict struggling to keep a calm facade. 

“Forgive me, I shall defer my raptures for another occasion,” Benedict said. “I’m afraid we are promenading with these ladies,,” he tried pulling Anthony back but the man did not move. 

“I am sure you can keep promenading just fine, Benedict,” Anthony warned. “It won’t hurt us to engage in some conversation.” 

“Who would’ve thought we would concur here?” Lady Danbury said from behind as she approached you. “Lords Bridgerton, ladies.” 

“Lady Danbury, may I say you look astonishing,” Anthony said and then directed his glance at you. 

Lady Danbury watched him with suspicion. “I’m flattered,” she said. “I’m pleased to see you gentlemen opportuning this lovely day to parade with these ladies.” 

Philippa grinned, as she kept watching Lord Bridgerton’s face, as if his face had some kind of magnet she had to be glued to. 

You thought of it pathetic, from Anthony of course, as you could see his obvious chagrin. You knew that he was not fond of them, because they were always trying to raise their… talents, if one must call it that way, to find a proper husband. They often failed. 

“It is a lovely day,” Anthony agreed. “Seems to be the proper weather after having to engage on such a turbulent night, the storm was unpleasant.” 

“Was it, my Lord?” You quickly enquired. “I would have believed you were very fond of the rain, and… turbulent storms.” 

Anthony glanced at you, he was disappointed but he knew you did not talk about the rain.  “You are mistaken,” he said severely. “I do not like to fret on the rain when I am not well aware if it will cease. I find uncertainty disturbing.” 

“I believe the rain to be rather bitter,” Philippa intruded. 

You did not even look at her, “I do not,” you said. “I believe we can find beauty in the rain for most dreary that it can be, especially when it offers such a sight.” 

Lord Collins grinned, “I agree with Miss Y/N, the rain is rather soothing.” 

Anthony scoffed, “Of course it is soothing, when you’re aware the sun will eventually dawn.” 

This was not about the rain. But neither the Featheringtons or Lord Collins was aware of that. 

“I believe the rain to be essential,” Lady Danbury interrupted. “We shall enjoy the beauty of it when it starts and when it dares to cease,” she spoke starkly. “However, Lord Bridgerton, I must praise you for the flowers you sent this morning, they were lovely, were they not, Miss Y/N?” 

Lord Collins blinked in surprise. “Flowers?” 

Philippa scowled at you. 

“Lovely, indeed, thank you, Lord Bridgerton for the most exquisite flowers,” you said. 

Anthony ignored your sight. 

“Flowers?” Lord Collins asked again. 

“Yes, I sent Miss Y/N some flowers to thank her for her company last night,” Anthony said with  arrogance, you blushed immediately knowing exactly for what company he was thanking you for. “She joined my family and I for a lovely dinner. Besides I find the lady to be deserving of the most magnificent flowers.” 

Benedict frowned watching between Anthony and you. 

Philippa cleared her throat, “I love flowers,” she commented. 

“How considerate,” Lord Collins said, you could tell he was not fond of Anthony. He was probably aware of Anthony’s proposal, or attempt to propose, and it was no secret that in your past season, Anthony would not leave your side. 

“Yes, her favorite,” Anthony continued, ignoring the lady beside him. 

“Roses?” Lord Collins questioned. 

“I like roses,” Philippa commented. 

“Gardenias,” Anthony snarked with a smirk. “She’s fond of gardenias, are you not, Miss?” 

“I find all flowers delightful, however I do have an attachment for gardenias,” you admitted. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton for remembering.” 

He wanted to scoff, he cleared his throat instead. “My pleasure,” he said. “ I must admit the true reason for me to approach you,” Anthony slurred his words with poison. “I recently became acquainted with the news, so I am here to congratulate the two of you, I heard about your engagement.” 

He knew, then. 

Benedict squeezed his eyes shut, he seemed tired of his brother. 

You blinked with fake surprise, “Engagement? Oh, we are but promenading, I was not aware walking led to a betrothal. Shall I assume you and lovely Philippa are to be married as well?” You asked with a smug smirk, knowing he’d be bothered. 

He was, Anthony glared at you. He knew you were faking ignorance. 

Lord Collins huffed, “You flatter me, Bridgerton, thinking I am already to be married to this beautiful lady, however, I know better than to assume the Lady will marry me without a proper proposal.” 

“I think I’d be aware if I was to be married,” you hissed. 

“Absolutely, you would be aware, how could you not?” Anthony raised his eyebrow.

Benedict watched, “Seems that this is the first time the lady hears of the news.” 

“It happens to be the first time,” you lied. 

“How convenient,” Anthony said with gritted teeth.  “Well, I am not to engage in gossip, however-” 

“Lady Whistledown announced it,” Philippa commented 

“Yes,” Anthony confirmed. “The ton happened to be loud enough for your engagement to be announced on Lady Whistledown’s society papers.” 

“Well, if we were to believe everything she writes then I’d be worried if I were you,” You claimed watching Anthony. “She seems to not be fond of you, my Lord. Are you suggesting we shall believe everything she writes?” 

Anthony clenched his jaw. 

“The Lady’s right,” Lord Collins said. 

Anthony cackled, “Excellent news then,” Anthony said. “I offer my apologies to you, both.” 

Lord Collins watched him with disdain.

“Is your hand not promised, then?” Asked Prudence, finally making an appearance behind Benedict. 

Everyone turned to her, but Anthony directed the most special glare at her. No one dared to say a thing. 

“Fair question,” Anthony intruded. 

“And one that is too bold to be enquired,” Lady Danbury stepped in. “I advice you young Lady not to meddle in Miss Y/N’s business, and rather take care of your own matters.” 

“The Lady shall decide if she concedes me the honor to take her hand,” Lord Collins answered. 

Anthony chuckled, “I shall wish you good fortunes.” 

You took a deep breath. 

Benedict cleared his throat, “I believe we shall continue our stroll.” 

Anthony did not move. 

“Excellent idea,” You conceded. “We shall not waste the lovely weather, a promenade is most invigorating.”  

“Shall I suggest walking and talking, then?” Offered Anthony. “I think the activities are not exclusive.” 

You closed your eyes, you did not want to continue engaging in the conversation. 

“How amusing you’re suggesting that, Lord Bridgerton,” You poisoned. “Here I would have assumed you’d rather have some solitary time with ravishing Miss Featherington here,” you derided. 

Philippa grinned. 

He raised his eyebrows, he was trying to tell if you were jealous. You were not, if anything you were amused of the entanglement he’d dragged himself into with his attempt of bothering you.  

“Are you not finding this conversation pleasing?” Anthony questioned you. “I would have believed you to be more fond of conversing.” 

You chuckled, “I rather be taciturn and quiet.” 

“I find that hard to believe,” he smirked. “Shall we?” He started to walk. You directed a glare at his younger brother who only sighed. 

Lord Collins raised his brow, “The Lady is quiet, I do not know why you’d find that hard to believe.” 

Anthony laughed somberly,  “You seem to be puzzled, Collins,” Anthony remarked. “Miss y/l/n is never quiet, unless she is engaged in other kinds of activities.” 

He was being an arse. 

“Other activities?” Philippa questioned. 

“Lord Bridgerton is speculating,” You cleared up. “I assume he is suggesting I’m quiet when I play the pianoforte, or embroider.” 

“Absolutely,” Anthony grinned. “However, I’ve been acquainted with you my whole life and I must remark you’re a woman who finds interest in chatter.” 

He was mocking you. 

“Not when I find it impertinent,” you sassed. 

Lord Collins smiled, “A talented and accomplished woman.” 

Anthony raised his brow, watching him. He was hurt, but he then proceeded to watch you as if asking you if you were serious with this. 

 You tried to look away, you could not believe how big of an arse he was and you could not believe his stupidity. Had he suggested you were aware of the engagement? And would he do anything about it or just keep being an arse? If he rushed his proposal he might be able to free you, however you knew Anthony to be an idiot. And you knew the man to be su full of his pride, that he would possibly try to be the biggest idiot he could before making any reasonable statements. You were in the need to have a word with him. 

Lord Collins started talking again, Philippa listened this time. Eagerly. Seemed like the pair was rather absorbed in their own conversation for your own fortune. Behind, Benedict was trying to not die of awkwardness as Prudence and him were not even trying to engage in small talk. Not even about the weather. 

Anthony was only peeping at you every now and then, brows furrowed. You slowed your pace, letting Lord Collins be wrapped in his words enough to not notice you’d fallen behind with Anthony. 

“I suppose it is unworthy to try and explain I was oblivious to it,” you whispered. 

Anthony shrugged, “You must understand why said statement is hard to believe,” he growled.

“It is honest,” you said. 

“I’ve always known how fond you are of keeping secrets,” he barked. “Forgive my hesitation, but my doubts are not unwarranted.” 

You glared. “Your behavior is.” 

He grinned, “Fine, then I shall withdraw, I do not wish to vex your pleasant morning,” he said. 

“Anthony,” you bellowed. 

“I must excuse myself,” Anthony announced loudly for Lord Collins to turn around, it seemed Lord Collins only listened when it was another man speaking. “I need to disengage from this pleasant promenade.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Lord Collins, always a pleasure, I hope we can meet again soon, perchance at the ball this weekend, however I shall not retire without giving you fair advice over Lady Y/N, be careful, for her hand and heart always seem to belong to someone else,” he hissed. “Excuse me,” he then said softly and smiled at Lady Danbury cynically before storming off, leaving everyone in shock. 

Benedict closed his eyes with strain as he was left with the two Featheringtons now at his care. 

“I despise my brother,” he declared. 

You only clenched your jaw, you agreed, you despised him, too. 

next part

ext part (coming soon) feedback is appreciated!

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[thepeakyfckingblinders]

Never Again || Thomas Shelby x reader

credits to @saralou23​ for the gif

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested/summary: “can I request a fic where the reader is found unconscious or faints in the shop or something and tommy freaks out? I just find protective tommy so ❤️💓💟!! Thank you, your writing is absolutely INCREDIBLE” (Thank you so much honeybun, you’re making me blush, pls, forgive me for being late ❤️)

Warnings: swearing, bossy Tommy, basically Tommy freaking out and being overprotective, me always loving him with all of my mangled soul

Author’s notes:

I hope you are okay darlings, I love you, please stay safe ♡

I’m so sorry for being this late, I have no excuses, forgive me. Also the end sucks, but I’m struggling with my writing lately, so, sorry again.

I love protective Thomas so much, he’s an ass, but he’s a softie, and I’m gonna lose my mind some day.

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham’s gelid air hit your sensitive skin with no mercy as soon as your red mary-janes crossed the doorway of the Garrison, only to disgracefully sink into the greyish muddy loam in which the whole of Small Heath seemed to be covered.

Your fingers felt like rigid appendages burdening your already wearied arms, while you tried your best to wrap them around your coat’s edges, in a disperate effort to keep that warm tissue on your bulging clavicles left exposed by the woollen dress you were wearing. No matter how many heavy clothes you decided to put on, that implacable cold still succeeded in making you feel constantly out of forces, debilitated to the core; it had always been that way, since you were nothing more than a little girl obliged to spend one every two months confined in your bedroom, afflicted by incredibly high fever and sometimes even bronchitis.

Truth was that your body had never got used to England’s humid weather, yet, even though you poor healt had previously put you in danger, for your sake, thanks to the enormous progresses made by medicine in the past fifteen years, it was now easy to fight against the ruthless chill of those endless winters. Plus, since the earliest days of your attendence, your wardrobe had been perpetually refreshed with high-quality pieces perfectly in step with the times, for your fiancée had been literally covering you in furs and duvets of all kinds, concerned as he was that you could’ve eventually caught another bad fever, whose deathly consequences he had already experienced on his own thick skin. And for no reason in the world he would’ve even risked to lose you too.

So, as everybody could’ve easily predicted, Thomas was perennially paying attention to your wellbeing: the most famous specialists from inside and outside the United Kingdom had come directly to your country house; if one thing could be taken for granted, it was that your medications would always be settled on your side cabinet, together with a glass of fresh water, every day and every night; and, come hell or high water, he would accompany you during your routine visits to the hospital, even when it meant leaving all of his business without any prior warning.

Needless to say, you were perfectly able to do those things on your own -pheraps except for getting a crowd of world renowned doctors in your living room- and you sure as hell had tried to persuade him that there was no need at all for being so preoccupied all the time; still, he was Tommy Shelby, he simply couldn’t help it. 

The concern for his loved ones’ lives kept stealing his sleep, even on those nights when there was no trace of imminent dangers on the horizon, it kept excoriating the insides of his drained brains, to the point that, more than once, you’d had to sleep alone in your immense king-size bed or reach for him in his study, curling up on one of his uncomfortable armchairs, ready to appease his fears as best you could. In short, for as much as you needed him to relax, you were still able to understand his protective behavior, against which, as a matter of fact, no one could do much; thus you at least tried not to give him more reasons to be worried by paying some extra attention to all those small things you could solve without Tommy even knowing about it. Regularly taking your iron tablets, for example. Nonetheless, it had now been already a week since the Peaky Blinders had started a brand new business involving in effect every metalworking factory in and around Birmingham, and the whole family, you and Tom included, had been so turbulently tied up with work to let every other thought and need slither on the back burner. As a direct consequence, your doctor’s latest prescription was unfortunately left lying on the bottom of your drawer, that being the fourth day in a row you’d spent without taking those pills, and, even though everything appeared to be going well until then, that one Thursday morning your period eventually came and stroke the fatal blow, having you feel so faint and aching that, all of a sudden, the few metres separating your side of the street from the betting shop seemed to implausibly dilate right under your blurred vision, a vexing sense of nausea assaulting your empty stomach led you to lean against a lamppost, your skin still crawling beneath all those heavy tissues.  Dizziness and lethargy almost took over your sore mind, before you shook your head with an abrupt move in a bid to dispel those unpleasent sensations; clients would’ve arrived in less than a hour, Esme had taken John’s kids on a brief fieldtrip, Michael was already in his office, the boys were making their usual rounds of the mills, Finn and Isaiah were dealing with a couple folks in need back at the Garrison and Polly was nowhere in sight, which made you the only available blinder for the opening and, with Friday’s race approaching, there was no way the box-office could remain shut. Hence, more determined than ever, you chocked down the knot forming in your throat due to queasiness and just forced youself to put one foot in front of the other onto the dusty road, until you reached the shop door, not without the risk of tripping over multiple times in the process. Your frozen fingers clutched to the small side-wall now carring all of your weight, whilst your lungs tried to let in as much air as possible. And it worked, each plodding breath seemed to fight your sickness, also your heartbeat was gradually slowing down, thus you shut your eyelids and continued to inhale deeply for a full minute, before your trembilng hand managed to finally turn the key in the lock, giving you free access to the place. 

However, the small click produced by the latch closing again did not live to reach your ears, for they were already brimful of ominous hisses, in a scant moment a bulk of hypnotic grey worms prevented you from seeing anything else, they relentlessly squirmed in front of your dilated pupils, that repulsing view sending brutal shooks straight to your clenched stomach, again. And, before you even had a chance to realize what was going on, your brain completely blacked out.

                                                    ~ ~ ~

Words would not be sufficient to describe the fright taking over Arthur’s features the second your inert silhouette entered his line of sight. Just returned from their daily patrol, he had indeed noticed a small crowd waiting outside the office, cursing and fussing because of the lacked opening, and that alone had been weird enough for him to punch and kick his way up to the entrance, profanities spilling from his mustached mouth every time somebody’s elbow digged into his ribcage, inducing him to hit back so to stand his ground, only to eventually find himself powerless in front of that ghastly scene. It took him a while to recover from the shock, yet the eldest Shelby eventually regained control of his limbs and moved towards your shape with a single step.

“Polly! Pol, come here, for God’s sake!” Those hoarse yells filled the room, reverberating through the brickwalls, so loud that they could’ve been heard from the other side of the city, Arthur fell on his knees right beside you, gently placing a hand under your nape in order to lift your head. Blind panic streaming in his veins kept him for thinking clearly, he didn’t know what to do, thus he simply shook you from your shoulders, hoping in vain to see your eyes fly back open, but your neck just bent backwards.

“Where the hell is that bloody woman when I need her?!” he grunted those words in between his teeth while tigthening his grip on you, then his chest raised in a sharp move: “Jesus Christ, Polly!” He shouted once more, this time conveying all of his breath and blood towards his larynx, his abrasive voice shriveled and insisted on the last letters of his aunt’s name, until swift strides frantically hit the creaking steps, announcing Polly’s arrive. Her eyes struggled to remain open, her left palm was pressed against her forehead in a silly attempt to soothe the tremendous headache resulted from the previous night’s booze, she didn’t even have the time to put proper clothing on, since her mad niece was apparentely going berserk. “You, son of a bastard-” cursed words died underneath her tongue when she understood what was going on, soon her feet took on a life of their own, as they picked up their peace, leading her next to your body now held in Arthur’s arms.

“She’s freezing, Pol, she’s a fucking chunk of ice!” Hiccoughs shattered his worried cries, he almost whined, shifting his gaze from yours to Polly’s face over and over again, she, on the other hand, used the whole lenght of her right arm to clear in one smooth motion the closest desk. “Quick, lay her here” The deafening noise produced by those items colliding with the pavement barely grazed her hears, whilst she nodded to herself in the effort to impose some order on her obfuscated head, searching for a prompt solution that was late in coming, to the point that Finn beat it to the draw and stormed in, pointing a loaded gun to each corner of the room with fear in his cerulean irises. “What the hell’s going on?” That hysterical question echoed through the place, even though the young boy was finding it hard to get his breath, due to the crazy run he had made to reach the shop immediately after hearing that insane screaming. Nonetheless, in the space of an instant, he saw you as well and fell utterly silent, violent dismay caught him off guard, his wide eyes hesitated on your motionless figure; all of a sudden he didn’t know what to think, nor he could get the thought of your death out of his brains.

“My God, she’s as pale as death” Finn let his mind talk through that throttled murmur, regretting it right away, for silty goosebumps crawled on his skin under the pungent pressure of his brother’s instantaneous lethal glare. “Don’t talk shit, kid! Just fucking go and get Tom!”

The redhead didn’t waste any time, he somehow managed to recollect his guts and steadily disappeared behind the door previously left open. While struggling for air and internally searching for the right words to say in front of Thomas, Finn covered the whole distance between the office and the Garrison. Labored gasps coming out of his slightly parted lips in louder groans as he slammed the heavy pub’s doors open, using only his strongest shoulder; both Harry and Isaiah watched him run towards the back room where Tommy was going through the books, they did not dare spill a word and, after all, the boy didn’t even look in their direction, such was his concentration. Still, once he reached the place, all of a sudden his tongue felt dry, his well-organised speech faded away.

“Finn?! What’s wrong?” Tom’s icy eyes were now staring at him through his round glasses, the paper he’d been reading was instantly dropped, although his tone remained steady. “Y-you need to come, now! She... she’s-” A frown formed upon Tommy’s marble face at his little brother’s furious rambling, something wasn’t right, that was crystal clear, yet he wasn’t able to keep up with those hasty and stuttered sentences, so he approached him, putting both his hands on Finn’s shoulders in order to give him a little shove and maybe get some decent information. “Breathe, kid, and tell me what’s going on” That deep, adamant tone somehow sounded scarier than usual roaring inside the boy’s head, hence anxiety definitively won him over, gaining complete control of his mouth too. “It’s Y/n! I don’t fucking know, Tom, s-she looks dead!” All at once, time and space seemed to collapse around him, one single second dilated, covering the space of a whole lifetime beyond his vacant blue irises now fixed on an undetermined spot of the white wall behind Finn’s back.   A gruesome, yet familiar sensation raided his petrified body, it felt like having a beast’s fangs gnawing his throat off, lacerating his flesh to the bone, he could sense every little laceration, his chest being plundered, till even his sable heart was eradicated and then mauled. A strangled wheeze barely lived through his plump lips, that being the only sound he uttered, then his black pupils shrinked and immediately twitched, nailing his sibiling’s gaze. Without receiving an order from his brain, his fists violently gripped Finn’s jacket at the height of his biceps, bringing him a span away from his gnashed teeth with a sharp pull. “Where?” He snarled liked a rabid dog, striking, if possible, geater terror in the young man who struggled to spit an almost inaudible “The shop”, before being shoved against the doorframe as Tommy dodged him and rushed out.

                                                     ~ ~ ~

Polly held the bottle of her almond parfume she’d just put under your nostrils as if her life depended on it, Arthur’s rough palm, instead, began to pat your pasty cheek. “C’mon, love, wake up! Don’t play games, c’mon!” The dorsum of that same hand now poking the left side of your face, and then going back to the other, at incredible speed. You started to feel your face again when his nudges grew in intensity, until he was practically slapping you; soon a tremendous metallic taste invaded your mouth, or rather, you finally sensed it, whilst your eyelids battled against gravity to get back up. Arthur noticed it, he detected that brief flinch and it felt like being pampered with a fresh breeze after days of unsustainable heat. “Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a stroke” His tone held extreme urgency as he grasped for air, tugging with two fingers at his shirt collar; sure, he was great at knocking people off, maybe the best, yet, unfortunately, after that he’d never tried to bring somenody back with the living.

Blinding light rended your shrouded eyes, everything appeared blurred to the point that you couldn’t distinguish Polly’s features, although she was right beside you; nor your hearing was working, since the loud thud produced by the wooden door hitting the brickwall, and then your name barked by your fiancée’s coarse voice, sounded muffled to your ears. With a superhuman effort you succeeded in tilting your face towards the entrance, you recognized the navy-blue suit Thomas had chosen to wear earlier in the moring, still those nebulous images reached your brains with extreme delay, it was like watching vague movie scenes stream in slow motion. Your eyelids blinked as if a plumbeous burden was anchored to them, each flutter seemed to last a full minute, so that you perceived Tom coming to you in multiple shattered motions, while he kept calling you. The moment Tommy furiously jostled against Arthur, in order to take his place by the desk, you gradually went back to see and hear clearly, now being able to seize pure dread sailing those mesmerizing ocean eyes. “Thank goodness, y/n” His big palms envelopped both your cheeks, slightly squeezing them as he lift your neck, revealing all of his hidden delicacy that you, and you only, were able to bring out. “Y/n, love, talk to me” That order came out like a prayer, his voice betraying him once too often, his fingers shaking with worry, while one of his hands held your chin and the other went to caress your locks. Those loving strokes brushed against your skin, slowly infusing a little warmth into your gelid body, he touched you with the unbearable fear of watching you pass away in between his arms, having him struggle to breathe properly. “Do you hear me?” a single, salty drop fell from his long eyelashes and poured your lower lip, you heard his voice crack, distorting, until it became nothing more than a faint whine: “Please, love, talk to me” When his forehead pressed against yours, he finally gave in to the tears that had been held back with drastic ostination, shutting his eyes for a few instants he allowed brutal sobs to trounce his already aching chest. However, that moment of raw weakness was soon restrained, so that you returned to stare into his blue irises. Then, a small grin crossed your pale mouth and, even though your throat felt like gasoline on fire, preventing you from pronouncing a single syllable, you managed to guide your tiny hand to cup his sharp cheekbone. A burning kiss was pressed on its dorsum, before Tommy completely leant into your touch, giving you a look halfway between relief and disperation, he covered your hand with his own, holding it tight. “You’re okay, you’re safe” Those soft murmurs escaped his lips, probably aimed to placate the axphyziating terror still intoxicating his veins. Indeed, as hard as it was to conceive for everybody in that room, although you were the one just recovering from a sudden collapse, Tommy was now the one trembling like a fallen leaf, his arms rested on each side of your shape, sustaining his weight, as he barely stood on his own two feet. Slowly, you regained the necessary strenght to lift your bust, leading him to flutter in your direction, promptly enlacing his forearms around your waist in order to support your movements. “Hold onto me, darling, take it slow” His raspy voice was still unsteady and full of concern, he was holding his breath out of fear, gazing at you with wide eyes and tightening the grip on your hips as if to make sure that you wouldn’t vanish in his palms. You, on the other hand, gave him a rassuring smile, caressing his face mutliple times and placing a brief kiss on his mouth. “I’m fine, Tommy, I’m here with you” you eventually spoke close to his ear so to keep that conversation between the two of you “Let go, my love, I’m here” Your lips accidentally brushed against his forehead once he listened to you and abandoned himself to your tender embrace, gradually drowning into your soft chest while his arms clung on to your figure, his fingertips almost piercing the thick material of your dress as your cheek covered his head, totally annihilating the distance. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Never again”.

tag list: @spidey-pal​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @stassaurus​​, @peachlle​, @livvtheangel​, @myjbphase​, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest​, @vxxn128​, @keithseabrook27​, @spaghettirogers​​, @writingstudent​​, @hp-hogwartsexpress , @eggingamazinglove​, @geeksareunique​, @cailoleaf​, @simonsbluee​ , @hereforsmutandfluff​, @starxtt​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @staygold-bebold​, @marvelschriss​, @captivatedbycillianmurphy​

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders preference #peaky blinders headcanon #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby smut #alfie solomons #john shelby #michael gray #arthur shelby #finn shelby #isaiah jesus #ada shelby #polly gray #bonnie gold #tommy shelby one shot

[binniedeactivated]

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧. || 🌪💦

[ m.list ]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐏𝐎𝐂 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐮

𝐖/𝐂 |  4k

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 | 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫-𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

 POC = person of color

a/n; should this be a ff?

adriana didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did. her dirty thoughts never stopped ever since he walked into her kindergarten classroom that one morning. with his sleek parted blonde hair, tall physique and lush pink lips she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him day in and day out. she had a job to do of course. teach the children, take care of the children and make sure each and every one of them were safe.

but myla rose’s father looked nothing like any man she had ever seen before. and it was a pity that his ring finger was occupied. that made her attraction to him even more difficult at the school’s open house.

adriana greeted every parent who stopped inside her classroom, guiding them to their child’s work display and giving short reviews of their performance in class. she was an excellent teacher. one of the school’s favorite in fact and every child loved her. the parents were always pleased with her enthusiastic attitude and compassion for their child. and this was evident especially when myla came running to hug her legs at the door.

“Hi ms. A!”.

in awe, adriana hugs her gratefully. “hey myla!”.

she glances up and with a warm smile the man takes her hand. “good evening, I’m choi yeonjun. myla’s dad”.

adriana smiles back a little harder than normal but she tried her best to conceal it. to her demise though, yeonjun didn’t come with just his beloved daughter.

“this is my wife, leah. our eldest son daniel. and this little guy right here--“.

yeonjun pauses for a moment to squat next to the baby stroller that his wife was pushing. he lifted the top of it a little, revealing the small one year old child who was currently dressed in a brown furry onesie with a dog ear hood. he sucks cutely on his blue pacifier glancing upwards at his father in wonder and being immediately surprised by the splashes of color around the classroom. he looked just like yeonjun.

“this is our youngest son logan”.

adriana smiles and coos at the younger child, “aww he is adorable. myla why didn’t you tell me about your little brother?”. she directs to the small girl with a  pink ribbon wrapped around her ponytail. she rolls her eyes.

“because he’s annoying”. she says with more attitude than she ever showed in class. adriana laughs.

“nice to meet you leah. and hey daniel”. she greeted the eldest. he looked to be at least 8 years old. not very far from myla. he waves shyly, burying his face into his father’s chest. how lucky leah was, to have a family with yeonjun. as a single woman, dealing with families was always hard. it’s just what adriana wanted especially at this stage of her life.

“well, first things first myla is a pleasure to have in my class. she is always doing her work diligently like I ask and she’s always the first one to answer questions when it’s time”.

yeonjun nods in approval rubbing his daughter’s back as they were then guided to myla’s work display. he was here for his daughter he had to remember that. especially when his eyes kept slipping below adriana’s waist as she walked. but it was something about the way she walked. she walked like she wanted to be seen. as if she were inviting yeonjun’s eyes to admire her every curve. nevertheless he snaps his eyes back up whenever she turned around.

“and right here is myla’s art work, her math work, and her reading caterpillar. as you can see she really loves watercolors. her math work is outstanding. she grasps every concept I teach. and her reading caterpillar--eh it can be longer”. she playfully laughs. she tried to make the conversation as general as possible but with leah on her phone pretending as if she had no care in the world adriana’s only focus was on yeonjun who, didn’t hesitate to give an unforgiving stare into her eyes every time she talked.

adriana was an afro-latina beauty. black spiral curls dropping just above her mid back, deep set brown eyes, and full sensuous lips that anyone wanted to kiss with just one glance. and yeonjun took advantage of admiring her every chance he got.

“and um,” she fidgeted. “for each book she reads she gets a segment added onto to her caterpillar. the first student to become a butterfly wins a prize”.

“you hear that myla? don’t you want a prize?”. yeonjun cooed holding her hand. she nods excitedly. “yes!”.

“you have to start reading more okay? see look, your caterpillar is short”. yeonjun pointed at the green bulletin board. “can you buy me more books daddy?”. she asks in the soft voice that she knew would touch his heart.

“you already have enough stuff myla”. daniel chimed in, annoyed. wanting nothing more than to go home and play his play-station already.

“hey! you have stuff too”.

“you’re always asking for the most”.

“so what! daddy will buy it for me”.

“that doesn’t mean you have to ask all the time”.

“but--”.

“guys. enough. we’re not at home we’re at an open house”. yeonjun settled. all the while leah just stood there just as annoyed as them. she could’ve helped yeonjun calm the kids down but she didn’t. she didn’t even seem interested in myla’s work nor her progress. much less wanting to be there in the first place.

“I’m sorry,”. yeonjun apologized. “my kids are spoiled”.

adriana chuckles. “it’s alright I understand”.

“so how are myla’s grades? is she getting along with the kids okay? I know she can probably be a little chatty”.

“oh myla’s grades are amazing. she’s great with the other kids, rather a leader. she’s only chatty when I allow it”.

yeonjun hums in approval. “good job baby”. he coos to her. he pays his attention back to adriana though. “she loves you. she always comes home with stories about what game you played with them or what you taught them that day”.

“oh really?”.

yeonjun nods. “yeah she does. you’re a phenomenal teacher. thank you for taking good care of her”.

“thank you yeonjun. it’s no problem I love these kids like they’re my own”. adriana spoke, sinking into the hypnotics of his lustful gaze. the one that made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.  “she’s a pleasure to teach”.

“thank you for this. so um--we go to the gymnasium now right?”.

“yeah, do you need help finding it?”.

“no it’s alright, I think I saw it on my way in. thank you though”.

“no problem. I hope you guys have a nice rest of your evening!”. she smiles sweetly.

“you too”, yeonjun nods, nudging his wife to push the baby stroller before they turned to leave. and adriana instantly wondered what he saw her in her. she was beautiful. but she wondered why he loved a woman with such an attitude. perhaps they had argument beforehand that she didn’t know about. but even that wouldn’t explain how careless she looked about her family.

and she was almost too careless. yeonjun could feel his adrenaline rushing at the sheer thought of fucking someone new. it’s been a while since him and his wife had any kind of sex. she’d always blame it on the fact that she was tired and would postpone it to another night. but yeonjun had needs and once he saw adriana he became desperate once again. he didn’t want to ruin his marriage. god knows he didn’t.

but things in the choi household never went how yeonjun wanted it to go.

“give me back my controller myla!”. daniel shouts.

“no! you shouldn’t have cut the hair off my dollie! now your controller is going in the toilet!”. the smaller girl runs to the bathroom and locks the door behind her, leaving daniel angrily banging on it in agony. “stop it myla!!”.

“no I’m flushing it away!”.

all the commotion in the next room over was enough to startle logan, who was sleeping so soundly leaving yeonjun thinking that he was out for the night. but he wasn’t in this case. now he was crying and screaming to the top of his lungs and rattling his hands wanting nothing more than his father’s warmth. 

daniel races to the kitchen, “daddy!! get myla she’s trying to flush my controller down the toilet!”. he screeches to his father who happened to be cooking over the stove top. “what do you mean she’s trying to flush it?”.

“get her! my controller is going to be broken!”.

overhearing the baby crying yeonjun rushes down the hall to get him, slowly lifting the infant out of his crib. still sobbing, the baby clings to his sweater and yeonjun shakes him gently hoping that his presence would be enough to calm him. but he could still hear daniel banging his fists against the bathroom door. yeonjun scrambles into the hallway and fiddles with the door knob.

“myla open up this door right now. you two are being too loud you just woke up your brother”.

“daddy?”. she asks innocently.

“yes this is daddy open up the door”.

there was faint shuffling on the other side of the door before she opened it. daniel gives a sigh of relief at the sight of his game controller sitting on the bathroom sink away from the toilet. myla glances up at her father with big eyes and the cutest face she could give. she’d do anything to avoid her father’s wrath.

“I wasn’t really going to flush it daddy”.

“give your brother back his game controller. why are you messing with him?”.

“he cut all my dollie’s hair off!”. she points, stomping her foot for good measure.

yeonjun looks back at his eldest son sternly. “daniel? why would you do that?”.

“daddy she’s always teasing me and being annoying”.

“give me the controller myla”.

she strolls to the sink and pushes the controller in her father’s hands while crossing her arms. yeonjun turns, “I’ll give you this controller but if i find out that you’re sabotaging myla’s toys again I’m selling your play station. If she’s annoying you come tell me so I can deal with her. I spend a lot of money on this stuff daniel”.

he huffs his breath with his back against the wall. “fine”.

“and myla,”. he turns, “if I find out that you’re trying to destroy your brother’s stuff again I’m selling your dolls. I spent a lot of money on that too”.

she gives a sigh that was identical to her brother’s. “fine”.

“good. you guys go play. where’s your mom?”.

“she said to tell you that she had to go someplace and that she’ll be back soon”. daniel exclaims while walking to his room. yeonjun checks his phone lock screen wondering where did she have to go at 9 o’clock at night. and the crazy part about it is that this isn’t the first time she’s done this.

“daddy?”. myla murmured fiddling with her fingers. yeonjun hadn’t notice she never went to her room.

“yes?”.

“can you buy me a new dollie? since daniel ruined my last one?”.

“yes. but stop teasing your brother so much and maybe he won’t mess with your stuff”.

“yay!!”.

“go on your ipad and pick one out. after you’re done show it to me okay?”.

“okay!! thanks daddy!”. she jeers, scurrying to her room already having the perfect doll in mind. yeonjun sighs, now looking at his messy haired baby boy who inches his tiny fingers up to press on yeonjun’s bottom lip.

“are you ready to eat logan?”. he asks in spite of the chaos that was going on in his mind. throughout the night he was calling leah consistently and she never picked up, her phone going straight to voicemail. so it was up to yeonjun, pretty much like it was every night. for him to cook dinner, for him to feed and change the baby, for him to make sure the kids are washed and ready for school the next day. and as frustrated as yeonjun was he always made sure he got everything done with or without her.

he was laying logan down in his crib for the night, the sleeping baby’s head falling tiredly into his pillow. he kisses him on his forehead and his cheeks before he heard the front door open and close.

making his way downstairs he spotted leah walking into the house, no--stumbling into the house with her work attire on. he approaches her before she could knock the kitchen chair over.

“leah? what is wrong with you? where were you?”. he whispers. she gives him a solemn glance trying to make herself look sober. it was failing miserably.

“I had to finish some stuff back up at the office yeonjun. don’t start”. she kicks her heels off at the door.

“don’t start? you’re never here. when are you ever going to be here? the kids see you once in the morning and then somehow you disappear for the rest of the day”. 

“I just told you where I was. I’m going to bed now. I don’t feel like talking about this”. she brushes past him making her way to the staircase. the things yeonjun wanted to say to her-- but he bit his tongue. he didn’t want to pour his heart out just for her to leave him single and alone. had that been him coming in late and drunk she would’ve raised hell. accusing him of cheating and trying to kick him out the house. with three kids, the last thing yeonjun wanted was to be alone. it stressed him out. 

and adriana saw it all over his face.

“hey, um- myla left her lunchbox in the car I just wanted to drop it off”. he approaches the vacant classroom-- the kids playing outside for the hour with the P.E teacher. adriana softly smiles at the man whom she wasn’t expecting to see so early in the day.

“hey yeonjun. no problem you can just sit it right there on her desk”. she guides. she was at the back of the classroom stapling work to the bulletin board.

“are you okay? you look a little stressed”. she adds.

“yeah I’m fine you know--just kids. they’re a handful sometimes. I’m sure you understand”.

“of course! I know how they can be at school. i don’t have any of my own though so I have no idea how they can be at home”.

hm, so she didn’t have any kids. yeonjun was annoyed with himself for even taking note of that. even worse, wondering if she was single.

“imagine a 24 hour school day. that’s exactly what it’s like”.

adriana chuckled. “god that’s brutal”.

“it is. you’ll find out for yourself soon enough. whenever you and your significant other decide to have children at least. it’s a world you haven’t known”.

she hops off of the stool to grab another sheet of paper to staple. she chuckles a little, “i hope this doesn’t sound weird but i actually look forward to that. whenever I actually get a significant other”.

yeonjun nods his head in disbelief. he wondered how a woman so beautiful with such an enthusiastic, compassionate attitude could be single at all. maybe she had a secret past yeonjun knew nothing about. perhaps she’s a psychopath. maybe even a gold digger.

but with the way she carried herself, in confidence but with humility, it attracted yeonjun he wouldn’t care if she was both.

“you’re single?”. yeonjun blurted out, wanting to smack himself for thinking out loud. she grins.

“why do you sound surprised?”.

while she stretches her arms up yeonjun stares at the small dip in her back and swallows. “well because you’re gorgeous”.

she steps off the stool again stifling a blush. she toys with the stapler in her hands.

“thank you and if i’m not mistaken it kind of sounds like you’re flirting with me”. she accuses, the cute grin of hers twisting into an innocent smile.

yeonjun breathes. it’s been years since he flirted with anyone other than his wife. but with the stress he was feeling nowadays he was willing to take any type of chance he could. he approaches her,

“it’s because I am”. he reassured, looking down at her hoping she felt the same way. only if he knew how much she thought about this moment, he’d take her right then and there. she pushes her face closer to his teasingly.

“aren’t you a married man? choi yeonjun?”. she licks her lips at the up close sight of his.

 “please don’t mention my marriage while you’re licking your lips at me like that”. he monotones.

“or what? hm?“.

he grins, bending lower to hover his lips over her ear. “don’t test me adriana“.

his words sent chills down her spine. her heart races and before she could say her next word he was already glaring into her eyes soon after. he places his fingers at the bottom of her chin forging her attention on him.

“kiss me”. he demanded.

she clutches his wrist, half leaning in and half hesitant. she was uncertain. he had a wife. a family. children. but he was sexy and she could already feel her panties clinging to her now sticky folds. his lips were halfway there but he had other plans.

he sticks two fingers between his pretty pink lips while maintaining his gaze. adriana could feel her legs turning into jelly at the streams of saliva that slipped in between them and running down his hand. when they were finally drenched with the contents of his tongue he pulls them out and instead sticks his messy hand directly into her panties.

her lips parted and she tensed immediately, not gasping the air but gasping in his mouth---because it took almost nothing for yeonjun to pull her into a wet heated kiss. her lips felt just as yeonjun though they would. soft and full. she whimpered in delight as her tongue lolled into his hot mouth. his fingers slid through her slick liquid so easily, she was practically gushing for him and all he was doing was tracing his fingers around the circumference of her clit, not wanting to give her too much too soon. but the lighter his fingers were the more she twitched up into his hand. she wanted so much more. she needed so much more. her mind went blank.

“y-yyeonjun”., she mewls before he roughly sticks his tongue down her throat. she waited until she got another speck of air. “you’re m-married”.  she partially wanted to warn, mainly because she didn’t want him to do anything that he was going to regret. he only let his fingers do the talking,  allowing them to travel into her channel, pumping them into her gradually. she does that little innocent gasp again. the one that yeonjun likes, the one that made her seem like she’s never been touched before. the euphoric waves his fingers gave her was like venom, swimming through her nerves and making her legs tremble.

his hand searches for the back of her thigh and he lifts her leg around his waist, widening her legs.

“you’re thinking about my marriage and I’m thinking about pounding you into this fucking table”.

he watches her face contort in pleasure and he smirks. he couldn’t deny the hard on she gave him by her measly moans alone. she sounded so helpless and needy for more of him. she was dripping down his fingers and it took every instinctual part of him to not unbuckle his jeans. she pressed her body into his like a bruise, gasping into the crook of his neck as his fingers delve deeper into her. “ohh m-my god please ddon’t stop”.

pulses of arousal amended around yeonjun fingers and he sloppily kisses her hungrily. she steadily grinds her hips into his rhythmic thrusts in need.

“just like that adriana, fuck my fingers”. he groans into her mouth, she wondered if it was possible to get wetter at the sound of his voice. if not, she was definitely pulsating harder than before after he said that. with a shaky hand she reaches down to unzip his pants. “pplease fuck me I need it”. she whines, not being able to withstand anymore of the finger fucking. she wanted to be stretched. “pplease make it quick I have to go get the kids in 7 minutes”.

yeonjun lets her undo his pants, he enjoyed her desperation for him. it was hot and it was something he wasn’t used to. leah was never like this. but adriana was a woman who knew what she wanted and who she wanted it from. so it wasn’t as embarrassing for her to slide down on his dick the way she did. she was turned, her back facing his front where yeonjun could see her ass swallow his dick whole. he wasn’t going to fuck her initially since this was their first  sexual interaction. but he was hard and she was needy so he didn’t care anymore.

the setting quickly fades from his mind while he watches her bounce against him wildly. his breathing becomes weighty and he grips her waist in absolute heaven, her slick sheathing his dick faithfully. he hid his bottom lip behind his teeth to produce a curse word but couldn’t quite get it out entirely; everything felt so fucking amazing and unbelievably so. broken curse words fluttered from his throat.

“fu--fuckk”. he utters with a low grunt. with her own electricity shooting through her veins and torso obscene moans fled from her lips and yeonjun clasped his hand over her mouth before she could get any louder. he had no intentions on getting caught but on the other hand it was hot hearing her unable to control herself.

her hips rolled down as she took up a measured pace riding him, her thighs burning but her movements were pleasing the both of them and the way yeonjun smacked her ass in praise gave her every reason to keep going. he soon met her thrusts by gripping her ass and grinding against it, chasing the orgasm that wouldn’t come if she kept going at the same pace. “ohh my god”. she hissed. he was gripping her ass rough enough to leave a significant bruise. not that adriana cared anyway, it would be an honor to be bruised up by yeonjun.

“god I’m going to fucking cum all over you”. she whines, reaching down to play with her clit along the way. yeonjun fucked into her a bit harder, exhaling all the choked up groans he withheld until her juices was spilling down his dick with ease. she trembles, wiggling her ass on him a bit longer before rushing to pull her panties up and look presentable for the rest of the school day. she was shocked to see that yeonjun was still hard as a rock, yet he was zipping up his jeans.

she clutches her clipboard, totally not expecting yeonjun to grab her from behind and kiss her on the cheek the way he did. she felt his bulge pressed against her backside.

“next time ride my dick until I cum”.

#yeonjun #choi yeonjun #yeonjun smut #choi yeonjun smut #dilf!yeonjun #txt smut

[inkandpen22]

Otherworldly Kings and Queens (6/?)

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader / Prince Caspian x Female!Reader 

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2k

Part Summary: After calming down the river, Peter and Y/N return to the How to a distressing scene. Then, Y/N meets someone who seems awfully familiar. 

Masterlist

Peter and I arrive back at the How hand-in-hand sometime after sunset. Spending the afternoon by the river with just us seemed to do him a lot of good. We talked for some periods, laid in the grass, and watched the clouds silently for others.  Simply being together in each other's presence was enough to bring peace of mind. 

"Hey Peter," Edmund waves his brother up to the top of the stone structure. 

The eldest Pevensie turns to me, "I'll be right back." 

"No, take your time," I assure him. "I think I'm going to go find your sisters and see if they're hungry." 

He offers me a soft smile and plants a quick peck on my forehead. "See you soon!" 

I watch as the blonde jogs off to join his brother. A content smile creeps up on my lips as I enter the How. Narnians of all sorts are gathered beneath the ground in the golden lit space. They continue working on their weapons and preparing for the battle to come. I hate the idea of battles and wars. There's a constant state of unsettlement leading up to them and all through it. If I could, I would stay in the plush, pillowy, grass under the spring sun all day with Peter. It would be just us in silence, nothing but the sound of birds chirping, the breeze, and rushing water. 

I don't find Susan and Lu in the main area, so I go check for them down the hall in the tomb. Instead, I'm met with three Narnians pressuring Caspian toward the alter. Between the two stone pillars is a sheet of ice with a white/shinny female reaching out. This isn't right. 

"Caspian, no!" I sprint toward them. 

While drawing my katana, I run up the cracked stone table. I dodge a werewolf on the way, slicing its cheek. I leap over the top and onto a dazed Caspian. He falls out of the circle in the dirt and I land in his place. By the hair, I'm yanked to my knees by Nikabrik.  

"Let me go!" I growl, clawing at his fist. 

"Address Her Majesty when you're in her presence!" A hag hisses beside me. 

"So protective," the woman in white comments from the sheet of ice in front of me. "You must be Y/N." 

Her smile is deceiving. She must be the White Witch Peter and the others warned me about. Peter had so many nightmares about her I recall. I witnessed one once when we spent the afternoon in the park. He fell asleep and woke up shaking. 

"Jadis?" I mutter, frightened. 

"I've heard of you too," she smiles lightly. Sweet Edmund mentioned you. Peter did as well. You're his beloved." 

"Beloved?" I question. 

"Oh, so you're not the 'High King Peter's' dear Queen?" She smirks, narrowing her gaze at me knowingly. 

Caspian comes to with a groan as he shifts on the dirt. My sight changes between Jadis and Caspian. 

"What does it matter to you?" I sass the witch. 

"Don't you wonder what it would be like for it to be the two of you ruling all of Narnia? To have a life together..." She insinuates. 

This afternoon comes to mind. The idea of us that way forever, always at peace. There would be no world with Germany. London would be a distant memory. 

I shake my head slowly at the woman, "but the other Pevensies, they-" 

"They would want it to be you and Peter," she assures sweetly. "It only makes sense, doesn't it? For the two young people who love one another to be together as King and Queen." 

"Y/N, don't listen to her," Caspian struggles to speak. 

The hag jabs him in the chest with her staff and he lays back forcibly. Switching my gaze back to Jadis, I instantly start to imagine that life. I can see it in her eyes. Peter and I would wake up each more in a rebuilt Cair Paravel, just as Peter described it. Narnia would free as he envisions it. He could show all of the different lands he's visited. 

"I can make your future with Peter brighter than you could ever imagine," Jadis describes. "You will be his Queen and you two will live a full life in Narnia." 

"My family..." I try to remind myself.  

I find myself gazing into her crystal eyes and seeing the future she describes. Peter and I would happy. He would smile and all of his worries would be gone. 

"They will know you'll be safe and happy here. All I need to make it possible is a drop of your blood," Jadis reaches out her fingertips to me. 

I rise up from my knees, starring into her eyes. Nikabik grabs my hand and sliced my palm. I hiss, holding it close to my chest. 

"My blood?" I whisper. 

"Just to seal the agreement. Just a drop daughter of Eve," she instructs. "A small fee for a life with the boy you're destined to be with forever." 

Her term 'daughter of Eve' snaps me back to reality slightly. I start to question her intentions again. 

"What would be the entirety of the arrangement?" 

"A drop of your blood, I become alive again, and I make the world a safe and better place for you two," she sells the offer so well. "A life, a warm and loving life with Peter..." 

Chills course over my skin. A life, the perfect one. Peace by the river, harmony in Narnia, each day with the boy who's always been in my life. He knows me better than anyone. 

All I can do is stare at Jadis as I raise my palm to her. 

"Y/N!" Peter's voice echos through the tomb.

I'm knocked to the floor onto Caspian with a grunt. I lay on the floor beside him in a weak daze. He moves me so my headrests in his lap. 

"Are you okay?" Caspian checks on me. 

"Peter Dear," I hear the witch mutters to Peter standing just feet away. "I've missed you." 

Caspian's face is blurry. There's more chatter in the room as my mind starts to get sorted. Slowly but surely, I start to recall all that just occurred.

"Lucy!" He shouts needily. He glances back down at me. "You'll be okay Y/N! She was hypnotizing you." 

"I'm sorry," I apologize breathlessly to the prince as he tries to help me. 

Lucy kneels next to me, across from Caspian. As he brushes his hand over my hair gently, she pours some of her healing liquid into my mouth. 

"It'll help you," she promises. 

 I start to remind myself that Jadis is evil and all of the horrible things she's done. Everything around me is a blur and I feel almost out of touch with reality. What she described, felt so real. 

Then, there's a shatter. Soon, Peter is then at my side, brushing my hair from my face. He takes me away from Caspian, moving me to rest against his chest. His arms keep me close to him. Edmund appears too, standing behind his brother and younger sister.  

"What did she say to you?" He asks urgently. 

"Nothing," I struggle to form the words. "She-" 

"She was going to make Y/N Queen. She offered her Narnia," Caspian announces at Peter, but loud enough for the entire room to hear. He rises to his feet, gripping the handle of his sword. "She offered her a life with you." 

"This is all your fault!" Peter barks at Caspian. "If you weren't so naive, this wouldn't have happened to Y/N!" 

"Peter!" Susan calls his name sharply. "Fighting won't fix this." 

"She knew me," I whisper as I begin to process everything fully with Lucy's serum. "She knew everything." 

I shiver at the thought and Peter wraps his arms around me tighter. 

"You're okay now," Peter comforts in my ear. 

"She's wicked," Edmund states sternly. 

"This is all my fault," Caspian swallows hard. 

I stare off at the morale of Aslan on the wall in front of me. The fire beneath him makes his eyes glow. I can practically feel the disappointment raiding from the massive lion. I've never made his acquaintance, but in my heart I know he wouldn't approve of my weakness. I was willing to give my blood to an evil witch in exchange for a lifetime guaranteed with Peter. I almost sold my soul to the devil practically. 

"She should rest," Susan suggests. 

"I'll take her," Peter agrees. 

With some help from Edmund, he picks me up. Caspian moves to help, but Peter offered him a warning glare. While carrying out of the tomb to down the hall where we sleep, I can feel the quick rate of Peter's heart in his chest. The sound and Lucy's serum makes me sleepy, I wonder if it's supposed to do that. 

"It appeared so nice..." I mutter against his chest. 

"What was that?" Peter voices and I can feel the vibration from him. 

"Can't you see it? Simple days and hours of peace," I yawn. 

As I drift off to sleep, I think I hear Peter say something, but it slips away into my unconscious. 

 ____________________________

The sound of waves of the river is the first thing I hear when I ease back into consciousness. I press my palms down on either side of me and feel plush grass blades between my fingers. My eyes flicker open to reveal bright golden sunlight. I can feel the warmth of the sun's rays seeping into my skin. I turn my head to the side, expecting to see Peter. Instead, I'm met with the large eyes of a lion. I scream and scoot back as far as I can manage until I hit a tree with a thud just feet away. 

"It's okay, Y/N," the lion voices calmly. 

I bring my knees to my chest comfortably and rest against the tree. A sense of contentment rushes over me at the sound of the lion speaking. His smile and knowing eyes ease my mind.

Aslan. 

"We've met before haven't we?" I ask as soon as it pops into my mind. 

He nods, "on many occasions. You simply know me by another name." 

“I’m dreaming,” I conclude. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t real,” Aslan determines. 

"How come you've never shown yourself before?" 

The lion chuckles, "must I show myself for you to believe in me?" 

"No, I suppose not," I giggle. 

"Just because you don't see me, that doesn't mean I'm not with you, but you already knew that," he speaks wisely. 

It's strange, we've never met this way, but I swear I feel as though I'm speaking with an old friend. There's an immense calmness in his presence. 

"I'm sorry that I was tempted by Jadis," I apologize feeling terribly guilty. 

"You're human. There will always be temptations. The important part is that you didn't act on them," he assures. 

"Is it wrong that I considered it so I would have a life with Peter here in Narnia? I'm not even supposed to be here," I shrug. 

"Who told you that?" Aslan frowns. "Y/N, everything happens for a reason. You are meant to be here." 

"What possible purpose do I serve?" I snicker, mocking myself. 

"Only you can come to that conclusion," the lion instructs. 

My mind wonders to Caspian and Peter. Aslan would understand. He could give me real advice. He knows everything. Besides, I can talk to him. 

"Caspian and Peter, which-" 

"In all due time," he predicts what I'm going to ask. 

Then, his features shift as though he's heard something stirring in the woods around us. 

"You have something on your mind," I conclude. 

"You've always been perceptive," Aslan compliments with a light chuckle. "I've always liked that about you." 

"What is it?" I now act as a therapist to the lion. 

"There's something you'll have to do, but I believe you're ready," he announces as he shifts from his laid position to standing. 

"Well, aren't you going to tell me what it is?" 

"You'll see. For now, you're needed," he states steadily and starts to stroll away into the wood. 

"Needed? Where?" I frown as I watch Aslan walk away. 

What is happening? What do I have to do? He says that and then leaves? I have so many questions! 

"Y/N! Wake up!" A voice echoes around me. 

_______________________

Masterlist

Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @rangergranger11 @hyperactiveravenclaw

#narnia #edmund #prince caspian #narnia imagine #caspian x reader #peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader #lucy pevensie #edmund pevensie

[downywrites]

Ah, yes, demoninnit

Demoninnit has a ticklish tail. Enjoy. Birb says hi from keyboard. Enjoy. 

Tommyinnit, the biggest man ever, was bored. That he knew for sure, spaded tail whipping back and forth behind him lazily as he sat on the stairs, watching his father dust the drawers and shelves. Back and forth, back and forth..The feather duster rose and fell hypnotically, catching his eyes as the little hardcore charm on the end swung back and forth in the same movement. He stared at the fluffy little thing, slightly slitted eyes catching its every movement. His boredom was immense, but the tiny tool was the only movement in the house. If it were any of the warriors that resided in this house, they would have called a moment like this a moment gilded in pure gold, a blessed feeling of tranquil and of pure stillness. The feeling of sitting at a still lake, not a single pebble to disturb the surface. But Tommyinnit is not a warrior like them, steeped in blood, nor was he a musician, whose strains echoed and broke this peace like a weakened guitar string. No, he was a troublemaker at heart, one who made the chaos worse. The chaos that he so longed for, the din he felt so at home in, was missing, gone with the people who usually made it. 

Techno had left to practice his fighting skills, claiming that he needed to beat another master swordsman in his own game. Wilbur has wandered off, looking for inspiration, perhaps from that nice lady he had seen earlier. Nick, was it? He didn’t remember her name, nor did he intend on memorizing it either. And the eldest in the house, Phil, was currently doing some of the most boring tasks on earth. The heat was sweltering. Both males had taken their shirts off, Phil trading his usual kimono for a much more airy one. Tommy, obviously not giving much of a shit, simply just took off his shirt, releasing his wings to the open air and relishing in the feeling of the air on the sensitive limbs...for all of two minutes. 

He groaned loudly, rolling off the stairs and onto the ground floor. “Phil, I’m bored...ugh, why are you old crusty people so BORING?” His voice echoed through the empty house, making Phil wince a bit at the sudden volume. He smiled at Tommy anyway, dusting away with one hand. “It’s mean to call me old and crusty, Tommy. You know that, regardless of how old and crusty I am, I can still beat most of the people in this area in a swordfight. And this isn’t boring, not if you’re the one dusting and cleaning. Want to try?” 

He opened a drawer, pulling out a smaller one. He stared at the swinging charm from the end of it. The little golden apple swung back and forth, distracting him for a minute. Phil smiled, handing him the duster. Tommy dragged his finger through the fluff, delighted by the feeling. He grumbled as if he hated the idea, but he knew that it would be significantly more fun than staring at the same painting they’ve had since the opening of the server for the next few hours. He walked over to his father’s side, only to feel his tail ever so slightly graze his feather duster as he walked by. He squealed before he could stop himself, free hand slapping over his mouth. His eyes widened in surprise and maybe a bit of fear. He turned to look at his smirking father, taking a step back from him. His tail lashed behind him, fearful of what his father would do with this information. 

Philza’s smirk widened. “Tommy, you never told me your tail was ticklish~” The words made shivers go up the demon’s spine, and he took a few more steps back quickly, not daring to look behind him, lest he get pounced on. “Woah, woah woah, big man, hehe, no, no no-” He bumped into a wall, and he started in surprise. Phil used the startle to his advantage, pulling him down to the ground with him. He kept him pinned down to the floor with one of his hands on his back, using the other to gently rub at Tommy’s tail. 

Tommy whimpered, giggling loudly at the light tickles. His tail was way, way too sensitive for this! He writhed on the floor, his tail already attempting to escape from Phil’s fingers. The bird hybrid continued to gently scratch at the tail, thoroughly enjoying the laughter he was getting from it. “Ehehehehehe, Phihihihihil, nohohoho!” He raised an eyebrow at that. “No, you say? But how could I ignore such a cute little ticklish tail! Who knew that such a chaotic little devil could be taken down by a few quick scratches here!” 

As if he needed to prove his point, he firmly rubbed with his fingers at the base of the spade. Tommy almost immediately went limp, tail twitching in the hybrid’s hand. “EhihIHI! NohoHOHO!” Phil grinned, noting down the melt spot in his head for future use. This was a significantly more effective (and infinitely more embarrassing) way to stop the thieving little demon from causing more chaos on the server. “What’s wrong, Tommy? I’m not even doing that much right now. Is it really that ticklish?” Tommy twitched at the t-word slightly each time it was mentioned, his flush rapidly getting deeper with the teasing. “IhihIhihihi’m nohohohohot! Bihihihig mehehehen ahaharen’t tihihihi-wohohordihihiish!” Frowning a little at that, the hybrid rubbed a little harder at his melt spot again. “Oh really? You seem pretty ticklish to me. Tickle, tickle, ‘big man’~” Tommy’s wings flexed, as if he was going to push at him with his wings. He whined a bit from underneath him, shoulders shaking in mirth. “NohoHOHO TIHIHI-WOHORD- squeak” 

Phil had the privilege to see Tommy’s neck turn a shade of red he had never seen before. Tommy hid behind his hands, mortified. No big man should ever make that noise, especially not him! Yet here he was, trying desperately to not accept defeat and let his dad tickle him to tears. He continued to laugh his head off at the gentle tickles, his tail flicking back and forth and effectively making it tough for Phil to focus on it. He growled playfully at him, eyes narrowing at the demon. “Oh, you wanna play dirty, huh, mate? I’ll play dirty with you then!” He used his wing to reach for the unused duster, nudging it towards him with his wing tip. It rolled, jingling merrily, up to Philza’s leg, bumping into him gently. He picked it up, jingling it a bit louder if Tommy didn’t hear it already. Tommy began to beg Phil, all notion of pride forgotten in his fear.

 “N-noooohoo… Ehehehe….Philza, plehehease, big man... NoooOOOO-” As he dusted gently over his tail, the boy bucked, making Phil grunt and push him back down again, this time using his wing as a weight to make sure he couldn’t escape. Tommy squealed, honest to god squealed, as the duster made full, direct contact with his tail. He banged his fist on the floor, shaking, as he tormented the tail beneath him with the fluffy duster. He wiggled it back and forth, as if he was dusting the shelves. He grinned widely at the sound of Tommy’s hiccuping laughter. He was almost certain that Tommy was crying with laughter, from the sound of it. Yet he carried on, knowing that this certainly wasn’t the extent of Tommy’s stamina. Tommy was dying, banging his fist on the floor and hiccuping loudly. “hic PHIHIHIL! NOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOT hic THEHEHEHE DUHUHUHUSTER!” His wings flexed and flapped, unable to do much else. He wriggled desperately once more, his energy flagging considerably quickly. 

He flexed his shoulders a little, and for a short moment, Phil could feel the emergence of spikes pushing against his palm, before they disappeared and all he could feel was Tommy’s spine once more. They both stopped for a moment, surprised. They turned, meeting each other’s eyes. The bird hybrid stared at the demon, who turned his head back around in shyness. Shyness? Wait, where did that come from? The Tommy I know never gets shy like that. Unless... Curiosity piqued, Philza rubbed over that spot again with the duster, hoping to achieve the same effect again. 

Tommy screeched at the feeling, once again flexing his spines back up to the surface of the skin on his spine. If Phil wasn’t already interested enough, Tommy took immediate notice and, flushing fully under his gaze, manually pushed his spines back in, one by one. He was fascinated with the new revelation. His son had never shown him his spines before. He tapped the other end of the duster on his spine, making Tommy shiver violently. “What are these? You’ve never shown me these before~” Tommy hid his face in his hands again. “I-I.. spihines. Ihihi..” He seemed out of breath, so the bird hybrid simply dragged his talons up and down his spine, hoping to coax them out again. The demon yelped, attempting to shield himself with his wings but royally failing, stopping upon the realization that he simply could not reach his back that way. He let his wings flop on the floor, too tired to fold them back in. Phil prided himself with the knowledge that nobody else knew about his son’s spines except him, wings puffing up in pride. 

Acknowledging that his son refused to let anybody touch his back without permission, he looked to his son for approval. His son looked at him in the corner of his eye, before closing them shakily and going limp in his hold, his head thumping gently on the floor. He released his son from the weight of his wing, lifting his hand as well, making sure he was as comfortable as one could possibly be in his position. After all, he had been laying face first on the floor for a considerable amount of time. 

Once he had done so, Phil picked up the feather duster again, dragging it quickly over his son’s spine. As he did so, the spines flicked up in its wake, making him smile. “Don’t push them back in yet, okay mate?” He saw no nod in response, but he didn’t see him make any movement to do the opposite. He smiled to himself at his son’s sense of pride, knowing exactly who he took after in terms of honor. Just my luck that one of my sons would have my sense of pride when being tickled. Like father, like son, hm? 

He looked closely at a specific spine, enthralled by the colors and the shape. It was a maroon color at the base, morphing into a deep, midnight black, similar to his wings. His spines shimmered in the lights of the torches, light illuminating the spiralling patterns. He touched one, delighting in the shiver he got as a reaction. He gasped as he saw a small vein of silver lance through the spine as he touched it. He watched it in wonder as it danced around, revealing patterns and textures he had overlooked earlier. He even saw one pattern shimmer and outline a crude shape of a disc, a wobbly outline, but a disc no less. He wondered, deep in the back of his head, if this was a mocking of what the boy was fighting for on this server. Perhaps it’s a hint from Dream.  

As if Tommy knew what he was looking at, he shifted uncomfortably. “I-It’s a bit shitty of a pattern, I know. I wished it was a bit prettier, like your decals-” The bird hybrid cut him off. “No, Tommy, your spines are beautiful. They.. they spark silver, Toms. Did you know that?” Tommy strained to look at him, confused. 

“What do you mean, ‘they spark silver’? They never do that with me..ack! Phil, thahahat tihihickles!” The bird-man used his pointer and thumb to rub all over the spine, making the spine shine silver under his ministrations. “They really do, Toms, they do! The silver arcs all over your spine when I touch them like this! Do ya feel it, mate? Oh man, imagine when the others hear about this!” Tommy was fully aware that his spines did that upon contact, but he said nothing, letting Phil relish the feeling of discovering something that nobody else knew about. 

He knew that Phil had been aching to go out and see something new, to feel something new. He had been like that when they were young, always on the move, on the hunt for a newer biome, a better server. He was a jokester, and a mighty good one at that, but he was no fool. If this is what it takes to have Phil by my side, I’d give him every secret of mine. I love him, even though he’s just a bucket of burnt chicken at this stage. He giggled harder at the thought, imagining Phil wearing a red striped chicken wing bucket on his head, breaded chicken strewed around him. 

Phil, completely unaware of his thought processes, continued to babble happily about his ‘discovery’, rubbing every spine and exclaiming in happiness as they sparked to life. As he moved from spine to spine, the ticklish feeling got worse and worse, causing Tommy to squeak and squeal as more and more of his spines filled with the silvery color. “EHeheheheh! Phihihihill, dohohohon’t! Ihihihihit tihihihi- hic nohohoho mohohore!” He flushed, unable to say the t-word, even in the most desperate of moments. The bird hybrid, too wrapped up in the discoveries, continued to stimulate each of his spines, leaving them sensitive and still-tingling as he went. Tommy was in shambles, unable to explain how sensitive they were without saying the t-word or shrieking halfway through. At one point, he even flapped his wings over his spines by accident, making Tommy shriek like a banshee and flail wildly for a few moments, before flopping to the ground again in pure exhaustion. 

Soon enough, Phil had stimulated almost half of the spines. He looked on in pride at the metallic blossoms of color. As he looked upon his work, he heard his son wheezing for breath, a quiet noise that immediately made him worried for his son’s wellbeing. Snapping out of his reverie, he looked to his son’s face in concern. Panting heavily, Tommy looked back at him, tears rolling down his face. He hiccuped slightly, before looking away, embarrassed by his show of weakness. 

As if he was struck by lightning, Phil got up, moving closer to his face and cupping his hands underneath to prop up his head. He used one of his hands to rub gently underneath his chin, making sure his talons didn’t scratch his neck. He watched as the spines faded back to their original color, noticing how his laughter calmed down a bit more as more and more of them returned to normal. “T-toms? Son, you okay? Sorry, I got carried away..” He trailed off at the sound of his son purring quietly underneath his residual giggles and laughter. It sounded little like a cat, more like a stuttering engine, but it was a purr of happiness nonetheless. He gazed into his son’s dazed, bolt blue eyes, seeing a similar amount of joy there. He looked back at his tail to see it wagging slowly from side to side, as a final affirmation of the exhausted boy’s mood.His shoulder sagged in relief at the confirmation. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see how tired you were getting, kid. Wanna nap? Cuddle?” Tommy nodded vigorously at that, not specifying which one. He looked drowsy enough as it was, so he scooped up the demon into his arms, cradling him gently. 

He opened the door to Tommy’s room with his wing. The doorway creaked as he walked in, an offset note to his footsteps on the wooden floor. He gently placed the kid on his bed, then turned around to leave. Almost immediately, he felt his son’s hand grab gently at his wingtip. “Cuddle?” His sleepy little voice made the warrior’s heart melt. He turned back around, lying down next to the kid. “Of course, mate. Anything for you.” Tommy hugged him tight around the midriff, mumbling into this shirt, “For you, Phil, the world.” Phil wrapped his arms around him, a wave of affection filling up his heart at the unintentional quote. “And for you, Tommy, my undying love.” He trilled, pulling him closer and slotting him underneath his chin. They drifted off in the near silence of the house, listening to each other’s purrs and trills.

 If Techno and Wilbur had returned to see the two snoring in Tommy’s bed together, wings wrapped protectively around each other, well, that was a question that nobody, not even the mods on the server, had the answer to. Especially not them. Wilbur may or may not have had to be.. persuaded into secrecy, especially after he found out a subsequent secret of Tommy’s. After all, loose ends needed to be tied up, and he was most definitely the loose end in the family. (Techno may have helped, but only because Wilbur had pranked him by setting up a trap for him during his workouts so he would drop the barbell on himself in his laughter.) 

#dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #my writing #downywrites #lee!tommyinnit #ler!philza #bird is not so proud of this one but here we are anyways #sfw tickling

[kim-miri]

HALF(have a little fun) pt. i

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun. 

» part one / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: swearing, blood/violence

» a/n: helloo~ this is my first write ever, and it’ll probably be a pretty long series. I’m also balancing school and a part-time job so forgive me for slow updates! If you’re reading this, thank you so much for showing interest and please leave comments below with your inputs!

» word count: 2,726

☾ i.

Name: Sayomi Zoldyck 小夜美 | "小" is small | "夜" is night | "美" is beauty |

Hair color: White

Eye Color: Purple

Nen: Manipulator (same exact abilities as Illumi)

Abilities: Same as Illumi Zoldyck - Body Alteration, Hypnotic Spell, Corpse Control, Needle People, Katana

☾ part i: a backstory(1/2)

Deep within the Zoldyck estate, Kikyo and Silva Zoldyck celebrated the birth of their first children with rare smiles decorating their faces. They were twins, a boy and a girl, but they could not have been more opposite of each other. 

The boy whom they chose to name Illumi, had mysterious, onyx black eyes and had not cried nor struggled upon being brought into the world. This led the Zoldycks to worry whether the baby was healthy or not, but were reassured by the midwives and doctor that he was indeed completely healthy, despite the baby’s odd lack of expression. 

The girl, who was about 20 minutes older than the boy was a complete contrasting image of the former child. They named her Sayomi. Sayomi had striking violet eyes and brilliant white hair, mirroring both those of her father. Unlike her twin, she had done the whole newborn baby shenanigan with a piercing cry and thrashed about in Kikyo’s arms upon being held.

Thus, began the new generation of the Zoldyck family.

☾ i.

The twins began training at the age of 4, and it was harsh, brutal training fit for the next line of Zoldyck assassins. 

Though deep down Silva and Kikyo loved their children, on the surface, they viewed their children as the ones who would eventually replace them and carry on the Zoldyck legacy. And in order to do so, the training they put their children through was all too necessary for the sake of their futures.

Yet, however painful or exhausting the training would be, Illumi and Sayomi found ways to make it bearable with each other’s company. 

It could be their little races to the training yard each morning, stepping on each other’s feet under the dinner table, or even pranking some of the butlers. 

In a way, they were able to balance each other out, much like two halves of a whole. With Illumi’s lack of expression and Sayomi’s affectionate nature, it was a mystery to those around them of how they were able to grow to be inseparable.

As the twins’ training progressed and the years went by, it was time to awaken their Nen abilities. 

Silva and Zeno had requested that the now 7 year-olds meet in the courtyard today instead of their regular training, where they would now be categorized into the different types of Nen. 

Illumi and Sayomi sat side by side on a bench in the courtyard in wait of Silva and Zeno, playing with their needles to pass the time. 

The black-haired twin flicked his wrist faster than the eye could see, sending the needle between his fingers to go flying and hit a bird mid-flight right in the butt. 

Watching the poor bird plummet to the ground in front of them, the twin girl’s violet eyes brightened and crinkled at the edges as she laughed out loud at her brother’s ‘choice’ of aim, falling to the ground while clutching her sides. 

A slight shade of pink dusted Illumi’s cheeks as his sister teased his needle-throw, before huffing and turning the other way. He swore it had been on purpose, but was immediately shut down by his sister’s obnoxiously loud giggling.

Silva and Zeno approached from a distance and couldn’t help but smile at the view in front of them. 

Sayomi was rolling around in the grass with laughter, her melodious voice echoing throughout the courtyard, while Illumi sat cross-armed with a blush threatening to spread across his otherwise pale face. 

It was a scene that seemed to reoccur often between the twins, their starkly different personalities showing through clear as day. 

Zeno stifled a laugh at the bird which now lied dead approximately 3-feet from where they stood, one of Illumi’s needles sticking out from its rear. Regaining his composure, Zeno called out for the twins.

“Sayomi! Illumi!”

Sayomi looked up from where she laid on the grass, immediately moving to sit next to her brother once again. 

In Zeno and Silva’s hands, each was a glass of water filled exactly to the brim. It was amazing how steadily the two senior assassins could move, the water remaining still in either cup.

The time had finally come where the twins would awaken and discover their Nen. 

Setting the glasses down on a table in the middle of the courtyard, Silva gestured for the twins to take a seat across from them before beginning his explanation. 

The twins sat down with caution, curious of the sudden change in training plans, and Silva delved into the history and power of Nen along with its importance. 

Having officially bored the twins into a state of drowsiness, Silva decided to cut to the chase. “Today both of you will figure out where you belong in the spectrum of Nen users, and you will both leave here with more power than you’ve ever wielded before.”

This caught the attention of both kids, simultaneously perking up to the word “power”. 

“This is called the Water Divination Test.” Silva gestured to the glasses of water placed in front of the twins. 

A leaf was placed in both of the glasses, floating still upon the surfaces of water. 

Zeno continued the explanation, describing what would occur. “It’s a Shingen Ryu screening tool used for classifying aura. You will place your hands on either side of the glass with the utmost focus and your abilities will be revealed by what happens.” 

After a short demonstration, the twins were up to the test, eager to know which category of Nen they would belong to.

Sitting up straight in their seats, the twins raised their hands to their respective glasses and focused all their energy into the glassed of water in front of them.

Sayomi was the first to get a reaction, as the leaf floating in the water twitched and spun in circles.

She exclaimed at the sudden movement, excitedly looking up at Silva and Zeno who beamed with pride. Both adults had hidden their shock at the girl’s raw power, causing the leaf not only to twitch but spin rapidly. 

It was a short-lived moment, as everyone’s attention was brought to Illumi’s leaf doing exactly the same, spinning in the other direction within the water.

Illumi cocked his head curiously at the movement, not showing as much enthusiasm as his twin. Zeno and Silva nodded in approval and the twins shared a smile as they listened in to the capabilities of their Nen category.

The twins were manipulators, Zeno explained. “Manipulators are argumentative and logical. They advance at their own pace and tend to want to keep their families and loved ones safe. On the other hand, when it comes to pursuing their own goals, they do not listen to what others might have to say about it.”

☾ i.

Life or death situations almost every day that consisted of torture-training, sparring, and even shadowing butlers at work or senior assassins on missions for a good 3 years brought the twins to their current state. 

At the age of 10, Sayomi and Illumi were full-fledged and elite Zoldyck assassins. And to top it off, came the birth of Killua, the twins’ new younger brother, who would soon become Sayomi’s biggest weakness.

 From the moment Killua was born, the elders sensed an overwhelming aura radiating off of the newborn, that screamed killer and powerful. 

However, all Sayomi could see were the uncanny similarities between the baby and herself. 

Brilliant white hair, slanted, bright blue eyes, that looked like her own violet ones, and above all, a wide, gleeful smile. Killua’s smile, although a baby, felt more genuine than any smile she had received in her entire life, and the warm sensation that spread throughout her body made her take another look at her younger brother’s sleeping face. 

She was absolutely fascinated by how similar the baby could look to herself, and decided to herself then and there that she would forever protect Killua at all costs.

☾ i.

On the other hand, the twins were already on the job, taking clients and bringing enough success to spread rumours about the new generation of Zoldycks. 

Sayomi was on her fifth client when she finally ran into a situation that caused her to hinder from the job. 

Her target was an 18 year old girl, the daughter of the CEO that had backstabbed her client. But her age wasn’t what bothered Sayomi. It was what she’d saw while hiding in the shadows of the girl’s suite room. 

From the cabinet of which she hid behind, Sayomi couldn’t help but feel a strong disdain to herself as she watched her clueless target without a sound.

The 18-year old brunette that identified as her target laughed giddily as she twirled around with a toddler in her arms. The baby let out cries of joy that seemed to pierce through Sayomi’s heart like daggers as she thought of little Killua. 

The girl almost seemed like a reflection of herself, and the innocence of the situation made Sayomi’s shoulders slump as she looked at herself in disgust. 

What was she thinking? 

There’s no way she would be able to kill a target if she began to sympathize with them. She was supposed to be impartial, cold-blooded and cold-hearted like the rest of her family. But Sayomi was ashamed of herself, to say the least, and she wouldn’t, no, couldn’t go through with the job. 

Carefully turning from her spot behind the wall, she used her stealth and speed to exit the suite back through the balcony all within a split second, before the target could notice the slight breeze left in Sayomi’s trail. 

Wasting no time, she jumped down back into the balcony of her client’s room directly below, landing with the soft patter of her boots upon cement.

Walking into her client’s room without a second glance to the expectant man, she muttered under her breath that she couldn’t take out the target and continued to leave before he could process the situation.

☾ i.

Sayomi’s client had notified Kikyo of her daughter’s inability to accomplish the hit later that day, leaving her fuming with anger and embarrassment towards her eldest child. 

Upon Sayomi’s return that night, Kikyo was already waiting, arms crossed and whip in hand. In a state of mindlessness, Sayomi feet led her to trudge quietly into one of the empty stone cells, ready to accept her punishment.

Kikyo scoffed at her daughter’s actions and followed the 10 year-old into the cell, knuckles turning white with her grip on the handle of the whip. 

With Zeno and Silva out on their own missions, no one was around to bail Sayomi out of her mother’s wrath, and the torture lasted longer than usual with Sayomi’s refusal to answer any of Kikyo’s questions. 

Kikyo was merciless, hitting Sayomi left and right until her hands bled from the grip, blinded by rage and shame.

Sayomi self-consciously endured the hits, mind blank as her body transitioned into survival mode with her lips shut tight as blood began to run down her body pooling at her feet. 

She didn’t regret her decisions, however, and only let a few stray tears slip out when she thought about Killua’s smile again and his future that would very much match her own.

Though it was betrayal to think this way, she hoped he would escape.

☾ i.

When Sayomi had woken the next day to the sound of sprinklers running in the garden, she found her wounds bandaged meticulously, along with a note next to her head. 

It read: “You were brave to stand against mother. But remember our purpose and don’t be stupid. - Illumi”.

Sayomi had grimaced both at the note’s contents and the pain that shot up her body as she moved to get out of bed. 

She made a mental note to thank Illumi later for carrying her back to her room and set out to the training yard.

Breaking out into a jog towards the yard, Sayomi rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and attempted to tie her hair back while she picked up the pace. She winced visibly just thinking about having to train with her wounds still fresh and let out a defeated sigh as the yard came into view.

Arriving at the training yard, Sayomi’s jogging came to an abrupt stop as she saw her mother was standing with Illumi instead of their regular instructor. 

Sensing the tense atmosphere, Sayomi walked briskly towards Illumi and her mother keeping her head low and eyes trained on the grass beneath her feet. 

Lifting her head the slightest bit to sneak a peek at Illumi, she faltered as his eyes were trained towards the distance behind their mother, unable to read his emotions.

Kikyo finally spoke up, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen upon the three Zoldycks. “Today’s training will be a little different. It’s become apparent that we haven’t been toughening up you kids enough, so for today’s session, the two of you will fight each other until either can no longer continue. A lesson about showing mercy.”

Sayomi’s head whipped up towards her mother and then Illumi. “But father said we should never harm each other unless a mission is at stake!” 

Kikyo slapped her daughter across the face and her voice showed no sympathy as she spoke. “Sayomi, dear. Don’t you think you’ve acted out enough by now?”

Sayomi only blinked a few times, ignoring the stinging sensation on her right cheek as she looked at Illumi once again. 

He hadn’t moved an inch, his black eyes unwavering as Sayomi’s violet ones searched his face for any signs of emotion. There was nothing.

The twins walked out to face each other in front of their mother, waiting for the other to initiate an attack. It was a battle of nerves, as much as it was the reluctance to fight one another.

From where he stood, Illumi’s needles were untouched from their spot on his waist belt, as were Sayomi’s strapped to her upper left arm and thigh. It was a silent agreement made between the twins, neither wanting to deal more damage than would already have to be done. 

Both Sayomi and Illumi knew there was no getting out of the situation, and with the meeting of their eyes, the match began.

Illumi’s right hand clenched into a fist as he swung aiming to uppercut Sayomi in the jaw, making the first move. 

Sayomi had lept back instantly, before dodging another flurry of kicks and punches sent her way. She had decided well before the match began that she wouldn’t retaliate Illumi’s attacks even it meant losing. 

She knew Illumi wouldn’t go as far as to make her suffer, so her plan was to put on a show for her mother until she deemed she would be satisfied. This way, only one of them had to get hurt.

As the gap between Illumi and Sayomi continued to close in, Sayomi found herself taking hits left and right, unable to defend against everything. 

A critical, hard kick to the side, several hits to the face, and an orbital fracture dealt to her right eye was what finally led to Sayomi’s fall. 

Bunches of brilliant white hair strayed from her once neat ponytail as Sayomi fell to her knees, incapable of continuing on with the fight. 

With the blood pounding in her ears, Sayomi barely made out her mother’s furious words of which caused her to shut her eyes in wait. “Illumi! Do it now! Use your needles to teach that disgrace a lesson!”

She waited. 1, 2, 3 seconds and opened her eyes to the scene unfolding in front of her.

For the first time in a while, Illumi’s face gave away to his emotions as he shouted back against his mother. 

His eyes were full of rage and hate as he continued to shout, and though she couldn’t make out the exact words he was using, Sayomi’s heart twinged at the sight of her normally obedient brother taking a stand against their mother.

The edges of her vision were blurry, and she found it hard to keep her head up as the scene began to spin in front of her, right before the ground lurched to the right from under her causing her to fall forward into darkness. 

☾ i.

to be continued.

#chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #kuroro #kuroro lucilfer #hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh au #chrollo x oc #hisoka #hisoka x oc #zoldyck family #killlua #killua zoldyck #illumi #illumi brother #silva zoldyck #first writing #hunter x hunter au #hunter x hunter imagines #hxh imagines #hxh ff #hxh series #chrollo imagines #chrollo ff #gon #anime #anime ff #anime imagines #anime series #phantom troupe

[rendezvousrenjun]

my heart | n. jaemin

⚔︎ pairing: prince jaemin x knight reader (+ other nct members) ↳ genre: royalty!au, fluff, smut, angst ↳ word count: 25.6k ↳ warnings: suggestive/adult themes, graphic violence, lots of cussing, mentions of character death

synopsis: whether or not memories will fade and you forget the way he smiled at you, or how he smelled of fresh linen and peaches, or the way his skin felt against yours, you’ll always remember you loved jaemin.

Attendees always flood in by handfuls. In their sumptuous fabrics layered over one another, varying in color like the garden of fresh flowers planted out the front just before the event. The people who come to ballroom parties always fall into one of three categories, as described by your commander: elites, mandatory, and extras. 

Bubbly conversations about trades and new imports, business deals, declarations in the making and which shiny gold ring trended around these days was the best you could identify the elites by. People who others wanted to see, the top of the triangle, the glamorous and could do no wrong. 

Others being extras, add-ons to the grand scheme of it all, making up most of the population. No, they did not need to be there but it didn’t mean their presence wasn’t welcome. In fact, the more exclusive the dance was the more people longed to be part of it. And to be part of it and view the elites in the flesh only emphasized how important the elites were. It was a never ending social hierarchy. 

You knew where your place was, and where it will always be: mandatory. You work for the elites. It is your duty to place them before your own life, to have them act as your blood and flesh, as if their body was your own. As messed up as it was, at least you had a purpose. A shared purpose. 

“Spssst” 

You don’t even need to look over to the source of the sound to know it was Jeno calling you over to his post. Your helmet hides the smile on your face as you hear the clanking side-step shuffle Jeno was making as he emerges from behind the pillar, leaving his post to come towards yours. 

In your opinion, it was always irresponsible for him to do this every single party. It’s become a habit ever since the two of you were training to become soldiers, before the shiny armor and the obnoxiously heavy helmet that rested on your heads. As long as you were alive, there was always a Jeno. Coming to the palace gates the same exact way you had; an abandoned basket left on the steps carrying a baby the size of a plump watermelon. The commander at the time, someone you’ll always be grateful for despite vaguely remembering them after their early death, took both of you in as his own, the queen not having the heart to throw you two into the river. 

“Guppie” he kicks your shin with his pointed boot, causing you to snap at him. You weren’t sure when you two started to call each other ‘guppie’, perhaps it was a reference to almost being thrown into a river. 

“Stay alert, your majesty will be facing the people soon.”

As if on cue, you see the King rise, followed by his two sons and the queen from their balcony above the ballroom floor. As a child, seeing the King rise was like watching a magic show. He was a magician who caused the room to turn over. The candles laced around in golden cups perched on the wall are overtaken by a sleepy spell, dimming so that only the chandelier beamed directly from the center. The angelic paintings on the ceiling are brought into light, your mind can’t help but wonder how the artist’s neck was after painting in that angle for so long. It placed a halo over the room, the drapes pushed to the side to reveal the clarity of the night. The vague sparkle of the dance floor looks as if someone halfheartedly grabbed a star and decided to grind it up and sprinkle it below the final gloss over. 

Every single time the effect still entrances you. The pretty rosé and other wine bottles at different tables are being set up discreetly as everyone else bows in respect to the large balcony. 

The King looks to his two sons to pour them a glass of wine. Your eyes follow. He pours the first cup to his eldest, Prince Jungwoo. Jungwoo is trying not to smile, you could see it in the way his cheeks twitch upwards. He then turns to his youngest, Prince Jaemin. Both of his hands are carrying the cup, looking into it to view his reflection in the dark liquid. Finally the King raises his glass to his people before chugging it down. The string instruments begin to stream in, the dance being set into motion. 

Once conversation erupts you feel like you could breathe again. Jeno places his hand on your shoulder, sensing you tense up. Now it was time to practice patience. 

“If I’m starting to doze off don’t hesitate to nudge me.” Jeno says standing against the wall nearest to you. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You say, yawning yourself. Observing people for hours at a time does wonders for your posture. The feet kicking and swaying act almost as a hypnotic watch, causing you to get drowsy. 

Oh what’s this? 

Something catches your eye. From behind the balcony a large window big enough to capture the entire night sky seems to be covered by a drape. You turn your head to look at all the other windows which seem to be open. Were you overthinking? Maybe the royal family didn’t like the moonlight from behind them? But you could’ve sworn it wasn’t covered a couple hours ago. Your head looks over the guests again. Near another window you see someone dancing by themselves. Odd. Were they drunk? It struck you the wrong way. 

“Jeno” you nudge him with the butt of your sword, motioning with your hand below your waist to direct his attention to the lonesome dancer, “do you think something about that person is suspicious?” 

They look over to you two, suddenly moving towards the crowd again. In the process of doing so, the drape where they were standing is released. 

“Oh hell no, do you think they’re trying to close in the room?” You turn to Jeno, he places a hand over your shoulder again.

“Eight o’clock y/n, another lonesome dancer under the window. This is too coincidental. Prepare for an invasion. Get closer to the balcony. I'm going to go get the commander.” 

You hear Jeno mutter, “shit”, under his breath before stealthily getting lost towards the back of the crowd. Your heart rate has escalated at least 20 beats in the past minute, waking you up fully. You’ve been called up during an ambush before but have never been the one to notice the initial signs. The leather harness under your suit causes you to sweat with every step.

Stay calm stay calm stay calm

You’re practically yelling at yourself internally, trying not to seem too wary under the eyes of the public. You clamber up the stairs near the balcony, lowering your head, trying to seem composed. Sergeant Lucas notices you by the stairs, patting your back and lowering his head with you. His body is close to yours, his regularly loud voice suddenly hushed.

“Chevalier y/n what brings you here? Is something the matter?”

“Ambush,” you cough out, no one besides him hearing you, “potential, stay close” he senses the panic in between your coughed up words, alarm hitting now. He walks up the stairs with you, the air above less hot. He’s more experienced than you, his words come out calm. 

You seem to get tunnel vision, eyes trained only on Lucas reaching over to alert the King whose eyes enlarge immediately. 

Then, everything happens fast. If the King placed the spell over the dance, the crash of the window behind the balcony put it in reverse. Drapes are unraveled, revealing the satin embroidery one by one, darkening the scene. You blink and the chandelier has already hit the floor and started to catch on fire. Screaming. The delicate violin is replaced with screaming. It makes your heart ache. Your head aches. Darkness. Running. Fire. Swords. The clock strikes twelve. But there’s no time. No time to dwell. Your mind doesn’t work in the moment. There is only your body carrying all your actions, pulling Jungwoo up, running with the family towards an exit, the emergency bunker. Your feet don’t feel the floor, all exhaustion has left. There is only movement. 

The Queen grabs your wrist with her clammy hand, pulling you close to her, the gears in your mind no longer slow. She’s screaming at you, “Jaemin! Jaemin! Please get him! He’s not here! He’s somewhere- I, my baby, he’s there,” her nails dig into your exposed skin, her expression is deranged to the point you’re afraid. You’ve never seen her face before, now her distraught is imprinted in your mind. 

Jungwoo grabs his mother’s hand, yelling “Go!”, at you before running with Lucas and his father. You stammer towards the center of the action, your mind trying to remember Jaemin. What he looked like. Where he would go. What he would do. If he died by now.

“Hey!” your colleague screams from your right, you see an invader running towards you. Your arms form an X quickly shielding you from their knife, your leg extends to trip them over the body laying underneath you, grabbing your sword to penetrate through their chest, feet staggering back to pull it out, the blood creating a pool that splashes you. 

Run. Search. Run. Search. Run. Search. 

“Where the fuck is Jaemin?” You’re crying out in frustration. You’re scared of finding him dead. You’re afraid of forgetting what he even looked like. 

You go over to the buffet tables where Jeno was previously posted. The corpses dandling on the luxurious cloth makes your stomach churn in disgust, you look over them closely, in the darkness, hoping nobody sneaks around you. You inspect their faces with no avail. Or rather, yes avail to not find him spread out like a roasted pig.

Something grabs your foot. You move fast stooping down, lifting the fabric and the bleeding hand atop it. Sword in hand, your grip above your head tight.

The pace suddenly slows to a halt. The flames of the broken light fixture lick the features of his face and his white suit. Despite being blocked from your visor, the fear in his eyes plead at you, hair stuck to his face with his sweat. He has a broken glass shard from a wine bottle in his hand poking outwards at you, lips stained red from drinking its contents. He’s gorgeous. This is the first time you have ever been face to face with the prince. 

Regardless, you push him back, letting the corpse and tablecloth fall behind you as you crawl beside him quickly. He cowers, grabbing his knees watching you remove your helmet by its gorget. Your hair is plastered down to the sides of your face, you don’t make any loud sounds, silently praying that no one has detected you two under the table yet. Yet.

You make the gesture of taking off a jacket with both your hands, Jaemin understanding and undoing his buttons so that only his black dress shirt was on. It was too flashy for him to go out in a suit. Now what could be done with the pants-- you bend down to peak out underneath the cloth to see if anyone was near these tables. 

Think. Think. Think. 

The coast wasn’t clear but you would rather not risk Jaemin’s bright pants being seen. You pull the corpse that dropped with all your might, followed by yanking their trousers off in front of the prince. It was a shameless move but you don’t care. You pass the trousers to him, he takes it reluctantly, a bit embarrassed to undress himself in front of a stranger. You look away, instead focusing on your helmet. When he finishes you inch closer to him. His eyes meet yours and you feel bashful from the way he stares at you while you place it over his head. He’s disguised and you’re relieved. Well, as relieved as you could be. You go out first, him right behind you. 

It was too obvious, the coast has been clear for too long. 

They come towards you like a wave, by then you accept your downfall. The only thing concerning you is getting Jaemin to safety. With whatever is left in your power you push him to the floor and encompass his body with all of yours. A human shield. You could feel his arms wriggling up to hold your head, which to your surprise hasn’t been slaughtered off yet. The sound of your armor being banged against by heavy objects make your ears ring. 

“Get up!” one of the many colleagues realizes that the prince is under you and begins to prioritize fighting off the enemies nearest him. You don’t know who it is who yanks you off the floor, but you run. You run holding his hand, never looking back. 

By the time you’re in the wine cellar underneath the castle, closer to the bunker, you jog down the steps. You let go of your majesty’s hand to remove the helmet gently. He pauses so no metal harms his face. Instead of wearing it, you make him hold it by placing it in his hand just in case of the potential attack. 

Back to jogging at a steady pace you notice that he has frozen in his tracks, motionless and pale holding the garment. 

“Are you alright your majest-”

He drops the helmet with a clank down by his feet, hugging you for dear life. He sobs into your shoulder, “I was so scared…” Your mind is empty, taken aback. You instinctively wrap your arms around his heaving form to comfort him while his hand reaches over to hold his other elbow so your body is snug in his clutch. You’ve never seen someone so vulnerable. 

Pulling apart, he’s embarrassed to face you. So are you. But you keep walking down to the bunker, no other words uttered. 

The cellar is opened and Jungwoo grabs Jaemin, his mother exasperated and hit with a sense of relief, her legs hitting the ground. You’re about to go outside to face danger for another round when Jaemin takes a hold of your wrist, firmly sliding his hand down to yours. This causes the blood that had splattered on you to rub off against his skin. 

“I apologize for smearing the blood on your hand your majesty.” Your gaze looks from where the two of you are interlocked to the concerned look in his eyes. Your fingers try to wriggle themselves out, and they escape for a moment before he attaches his hand again, smearing even more blood on himself. Surprised, you look at him once again. 

“What’s your name?”

You had a feeling he would never let you go unless you answered. 

“y/n.”

With that, your hand is released from his grasp.

“Try again.” 

Jeno’s skin glowed with a layer of sweat as it gathered above his lip and behind his ears. Grass tips burned under the sunlight spread among the vast ochre field. The heat generated from both of your bodies combat training makes Jeno peel off his dampened shirt as you chug from a bucket of water you had brought up the hill. His hand snatches the bucket mid-gulp, leaving you panting, splashing the remainder on himself. 

After shaking his head like a dog drying off, he motions for you to attack, “Again guppie. Try again.”

You fix your footing and run over to hit his chest from the side of your knuckles, but he jerks your fists inwards, pulling you in a choke-hold. His bicep is pressed against your throat, your hand finding its way to tap on it vigorously once you begin to cough. He releases you and you place a palm on your chest as the air passes, exaggerating the effect of his grip.

“Oh wait y/n are you okay??” He turns you to look at you directly. You stop exaggerating to elbow strike him in the shoulder. “Are you fucking serious?” Jeno rubs his shoulder in pain. 

“Your skin is so sticky Jeno, gross.”

“You’re no better, you smell like burnt bread!”

“But you gotta admit I fooled you pretty good right?” You poke his belly button, earning a playfully annoyed look back. He sits down and pats the grass for you to accompany him.

“Yea you fooled me alright, but after you told me that Prince Jaemin asked for your name I’ll never fully believe you again.” 

You sit down beside him, your eyes rolled back a bit to express your irritation. He smiles to himself, already knowing that you’re pissed with him. 

“What, did I lie? If he really asked why hasn’t he come to see you by now?” Jeno sticks out his tongue at you. 

“He did ask for my name! He even held my hand and I smeared blood on it! I don’t have any proof… but I wouldn’t make something like this up and you know it.” Your legs and arms find themselves spreading against the grass, tickling the exposed skin as your stomach points towards the sky. Jeno pokes your belly button. 

“I wouldn’t know what to do with that information if I was him. Like so what he knows your name? What’s he going to do? Ask you to marry him or something?” He laughs at his own joke. 

“I don’t expect anything but we did have a spark though.” Your eyelids close to enjoy the breeze passing by.

Jeno bursts out laughing, “a spark?”

“A spark. I felt it when I met his eyes. He was so pretty it was crazy-- even if I never see him again I’ll always remember him.”

“You’re being so gross right now guppie keep your cooties to yourself please.”

A couple seconds pass in silence, Jeno plucking random pieces in the grass to sprinkle them in your hair. He taps you quickly afterwards. From the bottom of the hill he makes out a figure running in your direction.

“It’s chief,” squinting into the distance you rise to meet him in the middle, “why are you running sir?”

“Clean up! Clean up both of you! Jeno get your ass here now!”

Jeno scrambles back to the chief, “why, is there news on the invaders what’s wrong?”

Your eyebrows rise in anticipation to hear more from the chief but the attention of all three of you drift to the next emerging figures climbing upwards. Rubbing your eyes again and again to make sure you weren’t day dreaming, you’re in complete disbelief with the scene that plays before you.

Colleagues, about ten or so, are marching to you. In front of the small crowd is Prince Jaemin himself. He carries a large basket in his right hand and what you presume is-- is that your broken helmet?-- in his left hand. The land is barren yet he walks as if it's a flower path. His crisp white suit glistens, almost blinding you. Jeno claps his hands against his pectorals with a loud sound, suddenly self conscious of your majesty’s presence. You’re still spaced out, head tilted a bit, mouth able to catch any fly who wanted to pay a visit. The prince gets close enough to see you in full view, smiling as bright as the whole damn sun. He was smiling at you. His soft gaze was directed to you. 

Officer Donghyuck points to Jaemin then to you from behind him so that the prince couldn’t see. His expression is as confused as everyone else is. You shrug, forgetting the prince can see you, as he was, indeed right in front of you. 

“Found you.” 

You blink at him, speechless. He quirks an eyebrow at you, pouting at your reaction. He drops the helmet down near his feet and with his free hand he waves at you. 

“Have you forgotten who I am? Because I can never forget you, y/n.” 

The guards behind him start to murmur amongst themselves, little “he just said her name”, “wow”, and “no way”s being thrown around. Even Jeno seems to have gasped at hearing your name coming out of Your Majesty’s mouth. 

“Your Majesty!” you come back to your senses, bowing down at an exaggerated 120 degree angle. When you look up, you’re greeted with a fond smile. You straighten up again, “what brings you out in this hot weather your majesty?”

Everyone peers at Jaemin in curiosity, never have they seen a scene like this unravel. They await his answer, as he takes a few seconds to come up with a response. 

“It’s a good day to sit and chat don’t you think?”

You don’t know why his simple response made you ease up the way it did, but before you know it, you turn your head upwards to find his eyes and a tender smile grows on your face. 

“It would be a nice day to sit and chat,” your tone is more casual, “your majesty.”

Jaemin looks towards your idle chief, taking out his handkerchief from his suit pocket and patting it on a bead of sweat that had formed above his brow. “Excuse me?”

Your chief is immediately flustered, “o-oh yes? Yes, your majesty? What could I do for you, yes?”

“Is it okay if the soldiers make their way towards the left wing castle garden? I had arranged some food as a warm thank you, and would love for you to take a short break to indulge yourselves.”

Donghyuck’s audible excitement behind him is brought to a halt by a fellow commander’s hand, the joy on their faces causing them to glow. The chief repeatedly thanks Prince Jaemin, almost to the point where it looked like he was going to take back the offer. Jeno stops him from proclaiming his utmost gratitude for the fifth time, “Chief let’s go.”

But before joining the others who were already down the hill, ecstatically giggling to each other, Jeno pats a hand on your shoulder, then proceeds to swiftly dust off the prickly grass that had stuck to your hair to save yourself from further embarrassment. It creates the opposite effect for you, a bit embarrassed that the prince is witnessing you get cleaned off. To your surprise, Jaemin’s face goes a tad sour watching Jeno act so chivalrous. He takes his handkerchief, patting it before extending it out to you. Jeno tries to hide his snickers at the prince’s childish attempt to gain your favor. He whispers to you before hopping along with the rest of your colleagues, “I guess you weren’t a liar after all.” 

You go to follow Jeno, but Jaemin stops you. “Wait.”

“Hmm? Aren’t you going down with us Your Majesty?”

“Is that person… someone you like?”

“Who? Oh Jeno? Well yes of course I like Jeno, he’s my friend. We grew up together.”

“Oh a friend? Cool… can you hold this basket for me?”

You reach out to help him, the basket being lighter than you expect, “you know…” you trail off a bit as you follow his slower pace, “I didn’t expect you to remember my name.”

“Whattt!!” You’re thrown off at the prince’s tone of voice. “NOOOoOoooOoo never!!! Of course I remember you! You’re my savior!”

“Psssh oh gosh, savior!? Your Majesty I’m just doing my job, no need to be so kind to someone like me.”

“And who is someone like you?”

“A soldier of course, a mandatory.”

“A mandatory?” 

“Yes, someone who has to be here.”

“Then am I not someone who has to be here?”

“Ah that’s not what I meant-”

“I am someone like you, y/n. I don’t see how I could ever forget your name.”

You’ve gone shy. Tongue-tied. Maybe even bashful. You two have also made it to the end of the hill, and you begin to walk towards the left-wing as he had previously instructed, however he stands still. 

“Your Majesty?” you turn around to face him. 

A breeze passes by the two of you.

“Let’s go to the right wing garden together instead.” He waits for you to come to him before leading the way. 

You were hesitant to go with him alone. The two of you separated from the rest of the crowd, who probably wondered when you guys were going to catch up. But what were you going to do? Say no to a prince?

The walk to the right wing garden courtyard is silent, the day starting to dwindle down bit by bit. You wonder if Jaemin had important matters to tend to, if people were looking for him. You started to feel guilty that you were keeping him all to yourself, maybe he felt obligated to talk to you because you saved him. Maybe he wanted to discuss future plans. It just seemed too fantastical for this to be happening to you, of all people. 

The largest hedges and rose twines lace around the front gate of the right wing garden. You only recount one or two times you have stepped near the area, your postings normally indoors and near the staircases. It was significantly smaller than the left wing garden, as this one was used for more personal matters, tended by the royal family. Access given to your chief and other higher-ups. Jaemin places your busted up helmet under his arm to retrieve the golden key from inside his pants. The two of you push the gate, entering a world that seems foreign and strangely beautiful. 

The rows of crisp orchids, hydrangeas, lilies, and flowers you have never seen before, daunt at you with their elegance. They line up like runway lights that lead the way to the lonesome gazebo at the center of it all. The gazebo’s polished marble and wood, as well as its shade created from its dome-shaped cover contrasts with the variation of grass and pops of color. It was almost fictitious how everything was precisely placed, an illusion of perfection. 

He closes the gate behind you, a heavy thud causing the birds resting in the fountain to fly off. 

“Sooo what did you want to discuss with me your majesty?” The table placed at the center of the gazebo gets closer to you, Jaemin walks fast to plop down at a bench in the shade. “A game plan? Some new information about the invaders? Private matters? A new mission?”

He ignores your questions, and hums instead, taking hold of the picnic basket in your hands while you stay standing. He places it on the satin tablecloth, brushing it off and then scavenging out the contents. He doesn’t say a word but gestures with his head for you to sit, his hands busy picking out the wine glasses and hand sandwiches. You’re more tense now that the two of you are actually alone together, in fact you avoid looking at him altogether, awkwardly pretending to be interested in the lace design at the bottom of the cloth. Sneaking a glance is out of the question, he’s so pretty you can’t bring yourself to do it.

Once the bottle of sparkling cider is poured out, a clear bowl of peaches and the rest of the basket has been emptied Your Majesty speaks up, “what I want to discuss is probably something you can’t think of right now.”

You look upwards and press your lips together, giving it some thought. You gasp. “Your Majesty…” finally looking at him as he raises both eyebrows, waiting for you to continue. “You…you want me to leave the base to look for the invader on my own don’t you? That’s why you wanted to speak with me alone isn’t it?” You can’t help but choke up a bit, eyes tearing up at the thought.

The prince bursts out in tears, but not the ones you have, he chuckles heartily. You think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard it. It’s a bit maniac and bubbles up until it hits his throat like he’s trying to breathe and it isn’t working. 

“Jaemin!” He ends up shouting, still giggling at you. 

“huh?”

“Call me Jaemin instead of,” he mimics a higher pitched tone and wiggles his fingers at you, “yOur mAjesTy,” he calms down, a hand finding his chest to signal breathing normally again. His expression suddenly changes from smiling to serious, “y/n you seemed so smart defending me that night but right now you're being silly! Look in front of you, what do you see?”

“Flowers?”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Are you being serious right now, Your Majesty?”

“It’s Jaemin! Look again.”

“Luxurious food from the castle?”

“nOoOooOooo we are having a picnic! together! as friends! I want to be your friend y/n! I want to get to know you better!”

Your mouth opens as if you are saying “oh”, feeling like an idiot and puffing out your cheeks to blow out hot air. 

“Ahhh” Jaemin grabs a peach slice cut into a perfect triangle shape to put it in your mouth. In shock you mindlessly open your mouth and it pops right in, he motions for you to chew it, making small “nom nom nom” sounds. 

“Wait. You want to be my friend?”

“Is that not what I just said?”

“But why?? I don’t think you gain anything from being friends with me?”

“Does everything have to be a negotiation? I am not just my title, I can be friends with whoever I want and I want you.”

You choke on your peach. 

“I’ll take that as an agreement.” 

At the end of your picnic, you find yourself smiling carrying a basket of goods Jaemin had prepared for you as you made your way back to the soldiers’ cot. 

“BUSTED” Jeno smacks your forehead the moment you enter, “where did you and lover boy go?”

“Seeeeecret,” you tease him, clutching the basket close to your chest.

“What’s this?” Jeno ends up yanking it from your grasp anyways, opening it to find some uncut peaches and a handheld mirror. “HEY CAN I HAVE THIS?” 

You grab the mirror back, wiping any smudge prints Jeno left. “No you fool! You doubted me from the beginning so, hah!” You stick out your tongue. 

Before bed, you end up giving Jeno a peach to snack on anyways, falling asleep with the mirror protected under your pillow. 

Being associated with the prince, more people began to give you special treatment. At first you weren’t sure how they found out you and Jaemin were close until you found him outside of your cot some days waiting for you so he could patrol around the castle. It brought a lot of attention to you, from either your own colleagues or outside sources being curious to what you looked like and why you were so “special”. It makes you uncomfortable. Speculations that you even threatened the prince even surfaced from jealous townspeople who have been begging for his attention for years. It was honestly disgusting how power affects how others will treat and perceive you. It started to get clearer what Jaemin meant when he said he wasn’t his title. All your life has been spent with only one agenda: protecting the royal family. Now that you actually know who you’re protecting besides the stoic title, put the idea of them as a whole in a different place in your mind.

They are good people. Or at least, Jaemin is a good person. If anything, him being in your life has made you even more devoted to your craft. Suddenly all the training and standing around as a guard didn’t seem too bad, the desire to improve your skills increasing because you wanted to protect him. You wanted to protect him better. 

You haven’t spoken to the rest of the family since that night. However, you have run into Jungwoo once or twice in the right wing garden whilst you and Jaemin played around. Jaemin had informed you that Jungwoo secretly approves of you being in his company constantly because it kind of made you his personal guard. You honestly didn’t see it that way until he mentioned it, and now that he had you can’t stop seeing it that way. You were Jaemin’s plus one. 

Seven was your favorite number. Your youth is a blur to you, but you’ll always remember the story a commander once told you during your first training. You were scared then, afraid to hurt your friend. She told you to count to seven. When you asked her why, she said seven was a lucky number. When asked why again, being the small kid you were, she told you that when the world was made God worked hard for six days and rested on the seventh, and by the time you’ve counted to seven, your heart will rest alongside him. It comforted you then. And now you had another reason to like the number seven; at seven o’clock sharp when the sun is just ready to say goodbye, you’re on break. And these days when you’re on break, you go to see Jaemin.

You’re afraid you got a bit too excited and started your break a minute or two earlier than you should. Rushing to meet him, you throw on the random smock on your bed and make your way to the garden. He wasn’t there when you first entered, which you didn’t mind as he was often late due to unfinished business or just him taking forever to prepare himself. You pass time crouching on the floor and picking at the pieces of grass that still had droplets of dew from the morning shower today. You get bored of the grass and decide to stare at the dying rose in the corner, shielded by flowers who made it to the surface. You decide to make it a tiny hut out of twigs around the gazebo, something your younger self would be proud of. 

You’re so far into the creation of your twig structure you don’t notice Jaemin coming up from behind you. His hands cover your eyes, surprising you into fight or flight, causing you to instinctively knock your head back to hit his. 

“Ow ow ow it hurts.” You turn around, stunned by your own actions. One of his hands touch his forehead, hissing at the feeling and pouting at you like a baby who just got their favorite toy taken away. 

“Ahhh I’m really sorry I didn't know it was you.” You take his head in between your palms, reaching to bring him closer to you as you begin to blow the red mark blooming on his forehead. While you blow at it gently, concentrating on cooling it down, he smiles at you and stares in awe. He enjoys the feeling of you caring for him a lot, not wanting you to stop. “Does it still hurt?” you take a step back to look at him, forgetting how ethereal he was. He looks tired, his regular suit nowhere to be seen, replaced with a flowy white dress shirt and loose slacks, his hair flopping in different directions. He must’ve worked hard on something. You were probably staring for too long.

“Actually, it still hurts.” He continues to pout at you and takes your wrist to pull you closer to him again, laying your hand on his forehead to touch it. You gently pat it and give it a couple more puffs of cool air before realizing Jaemin was just teasing you. You separate from him again, stepping back. 

“Okay you caught me, it doesn't hurt anymore .^◡^.”

You sigh. 

“Wanna see something cool?”

“Sure.”

He fiddles with something in the hand he had kept behind him. He presents to you a flower with pointed petals, almost like a sword. 

“Hmm? What’s this for?”

“It’s a gladiolus flower.”

“That’s cool…?”

“Do you know what it means?”

“Not really, I don’t know much about flowers haha..”

“Well there are lots and lots of meanings to the gladiolus flower, but the overall meaning is strength or character, faithfulness and honor. It signifies remembrance.”

“Ohh I see… what are the other meanings?”

For some reason, Jaemin seems a bit bashful at your question. 

“Well you know how it’s kind of sword shaped? Well… giving you this flower is like… piercing… you know what? You don’t have to know.”

“Okay, if you say so I’ll respect your secrets from me. But how many times do I have to tell you not to give me anything special Your Majesty? You don’t have to thank me for fulfilling my duty.”

His face deadpans at you, flower still in hand, “I will because I want to, not because I have to! You’re so stubborn!”

“Me? Stubborn? You’re the only prince in the entire world who wants to be friends with one of their soldiers, if anything you’re the stubborn one here, Your Majesty! I’m sure so many others have risked their lives for you.”

“Listen… I may be stubborn but being your friend should be a given.”

“Dude, how is it a given?”

“Because you’re my guardian angel sent from above pew pew!” Jaemin winks at you and shoots finger hearts with his free hand, trying to act cute. 

“You flatter me.”

“What’s there not to flatter?” Jaemin once again pops your personal bubble, placing the gladiolus flower behind your ear, his hand lingering on your strands of hair to brush them softly. 

“Oh please.”

“Whattttt???”

You move past him, his hand left alone from where it once was caught in one of your tangles, He follows you to the table, sitting down next to you instead of across from you. 

“Open your hand and close your hands.”

He does as told. You place one of the twigs from earlier in it. 

“What’s this?” He takes the twig between his pointer finger and thumb to examine it. 

“You’ve received so many flowers in your lifetime, this is probably the first time you’ve ever received an ugly twig hehehee.” 

“What’s the meaning of this twig?” He holds it closer to his eyes.

“I’m not sure, I don't think it has one.”

“Well then I’ll just have to make my own meaning.”

“And that is?” 

He’s about to put it in his mouth, but you push his hand away so it flings onto the table.

“Ahh I know, it's going to symbolize your heart.” He takes it from the table, delicately placing it in his hands again. 

“How could you say things like that so easily???” You smack his arm in embarrassment. “Why are you so cheesy, Your Majesty? Where did you even learn this type of stuff oh gosh-- just, just take out the paper from the basket so we can draw or do something before break ends, gosh you-” you facepalm out of second hand embarrassment.

“Yo how many times do I have to tell you, j a e m i n,” he sounds his name out slow, “call me Jaemin! Na! Jae! Min!”

“Okay then j a e m i n take out the paper so we could draw or something.”

Jaemin jokingly sulks at you, but proceeds to grab the basket he placed under the table to take out the silky beautiful paper nonetheless. You love the feeling of it gliding in between your fingers as he passes it to you, along with some graphite. 

He suggests drawing each other, the both of you concentrating on the other’s face. But when you ask him how it looks, he refuses to show it to you, so you two end up drawing deformed bunnies and random blobs with smiley faces, loud “eheheheh”s leaving the gazebo. He signs the bottom of your paper, and you sign his. 

“Do you know how to make a paper airplane?”

“What’s a paper airplane?”

“Jungwoo taught me how to do it before, let me show you.”

You learn something from Jaemin every time the two of you meet. He is very patient when teaching you how to make the airplane, knowing you are inexperienced with luxuries like this. Having you with him allows him to recognize his privilege, and you widen his perspective on the world as a whole. He gives you the serotonin boosts you need to keep working hard, and little do you know you’re one of the only reasons he keeps going too. 

Boundaries. Boundaries are good things. Boundaries between land help differentiate nations. Boundaries for rivers help create dams so water doesn't overflow. Boundaries tell people where to not cross the line. So what’s the boundary between friends? How much should you like a friend? How much is too much? You think you’ve crossed that boundary. Multiple, actually. You’ve crossed the relationship between a prince and a soldier. And now you’ve done it. Does Jaemin have your whole heart? Absolutely. No doubt about it. Maybe he did some voodoo with that twig and actually manifested it to be your heart because it sure did work. 

Now you’re absolutely terrified. Mentally and emotionally those boundaries have been crossed. The only thing you could do now is restrict yourself physically. Maybe that’s how you could stop yourself from crossing it completely. 

And you’re certain that Jaemin had noticed. Avoiding a prince? What right did you have? He’s been nothing but good to you but you distance yourself like this? You’re afraid to hold onto him, only to see him get married off to someone else. 

You stopped running to him during breaks. 

Sometimes he would see you patrolling in the hallways, waving a slight hand so that no one else would see. You feel terrible for not reciprocating, but the faster you two stop talking, the faster you’ll be able to lose these feelings. Out of sight out of mind right? But how could you possibly lose sight of what you’re protecting.

The moon was out already when Jeno shook you awake. It was a long day for you, your body falling in a comatose-like slumber. 

“Wake up guppie.”

“Mmm?” your eyes are slightly shut, rubbing them to see him clearer, “is something happening?”

“He’s outside.”

You already know who he’s talking about. You use Jeno’s coat to cover up your sleepwear, opening the broken wooden door of your shared cot. Jaemin stands still in front of the door in his shirt made of breezy material, you’re afraid he might get sick. He’s the first one to get a word out.

“y/n.”

“Your Majesty-”

“Stop. What are you doing?”

“I was sleeping, Your Majesty.”

“Stop playing dumb, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Why are you avoiding me?”

The wind picks up his hair and sweeps against his forehead, exposing his furrowed brows.

“Did you sneak out of your room to come here? Why are you bare footed?”

“Yes. Happy with that answer?” 

You swallow out of guilt, “it’s not your fault.”

“Then why y/n? Why don’t you like being around me anymore? Is it because I’m a prince? What is it so I could fix this?”

His eyes talk on their own, just as they did when you first met him. He’s pleading for you to help him out so he can understand. 

“It’s because I like being around you too much.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Is that it? Because we are having too much fun as friends? y/n it’s okay to relax once in awhile, it’s good to take breaks-”

“No.”

He stops going on a tangent.

“I don’t know how to break this to you but after I tell you at least I could move on. Your Majesty,” you pause, “I’m terribly infatuated with you.” 

His expression loosens up the way his clothing does in the wind, his eyebrows no longer furrowing. He looks confused and taken aback, like he needs time to process what you said. He doesn’t respond to you, both of you standing the exact same place the entire conversation, the boundary invisible. The commander in charge of watching over Jaemin that night comes running to where you are, the light of the stars replaced with the light of the torch he’s carrying. He takes Jaemin, whom you’ve left speechless, back to his chamber without much of a fight. 

For some reason, you had higher expectations. You’ve gotten ahead of yourself, believing that maybe he would’ve said he liked you too. You’re so embarrassed. 

And you thought that was the end of it. 

It is brought to your attention months after that incident that the prince will be leaving on a long trip to another palace to discuss arrangements with other royalty. Business deals, apparently. It bewilders you that Prince Jungwoo would want to specifically have you be his personal guard. He probably requested you because he’s heard of you from Jaemin. How ashamed you are, having to face him now.

The day, or rather night, comes when you are stationed to join him on his journey. The carriage is as luxurious as it is tiny, probably fitting a maximum of two people and a luggage or two. You heard more about the trip from the chief; the purpose was to acquire different materials, introducing ones that were in this kingdom’s position. The other carriage next to you, protected by a knight whom you did not converse with often, contained all the goods stacked one atop the other. The coachmen seem exhausted already, the journey yet to start. 

Well here goes nothing.

Your armor clinks with the door you swing open, watching your footing as you step in to sit across the prince. You make sure the lock on the carriage is secure before facing the prince himself.

Removing your visor, you make eye contact with the man you’ve been distressed about for months. He smiles evilly at you like an animated cartoon bunny. His eyes and the plumpness of his cheeks are cheekily greeting you, his legs crossed over one another, parallel to his arms. 

“You think you can escape me y/n?”

You keep your startled-ness under wraps, composing yourself and staying put in your seat so he doesn’t suspect you of being affected. He uncrosses his arms, lifting the luggage next to your seat up and placing it in a cramped space. Jaemin then proceeds to move to your side, sitting next to you snugly. You’re still frozen in place. 

Is he just going to pretend nothing happened??

Jaemin taps your shoulder, “don’t avoid me anymore, okay?”

You? Avoid him??? Wasn’t it the other way around?? 

“Okay?” he meets your gaze again, and your heart is racing. 

“Okay.” You respond sheepishly. 

“YAYYY” he hugs the arm on his side, holding it tight and cradling it like a basket of fruit. The emotion you feel isn’t exactly relieved, complicated on how to react to Jaemin. Humiliated? No, that wouldn’t be the right term either. The closest you could describe it is flustered. You were flustered. You can’t look at him anymore, staring up at the ceiling on the moving carriage, the light bumps in the pathway causing your world to spin even more. 

You think you might die. Jaemin ended up falling asleep on your arm, the rhythm of the horse rocking him off to dream. You can’t sleep. One, because you’re on guard, and two, because you couldn’t even if you tried. The jitterbug crawls everywhere inside you, freaking you out. Your heart swells as it dawns upon you how long Jaemin’s eyelashes look up this close. Or how soft his hair is, and how it floats and bounces on its own. Or how smooth his skin is, like it was made from rice cakes. You wanted to squeeze it-- no. He also smelled really good. Like cotton out of the castle wash, the fresh scent of the flowers used to create soap sticks on him. 

You stare and stare at him, his face probably worn out by now if that was possible. Not sure of how much time has passed, he wakes up. He detangles from you, his arms sore as he stretches and yawns, eyes never leaving you. Even after he finishes stretching, his eyes burn holes into you, enlarging every time he’s about to blink. 

“Stop doing that your eyes will hurt.”

He doesn’t stop, enlarging them even more.

“What? Is there something on my face?”

“You’re pretty.” He finally closes his eyes, yawning again, somewhat still asleep. 

“What???”

He puckers his lips, “I said what I said and I meant what I said.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You point to yourself, laughing. 

“Yes!” He says with no hesitation, “I think you’re pretty and cool and strong and smart and funny and amazing!” He’s using that tone of voice again, fully awake.

You’re so flustered you have no idea what to say. He only laughs.

Two whole days pass in that tiny carriage. Breaks were taken, of course, eating selected foods within a preserved basket. You arrive at the other kingdom at night, similar to how you had left your own kingdom. You watch Jaemin from behind as the guards here lead you two to the front of his guest chamber. Jaemin heads into his room while they show you where you’re able to stay during breaks, or when you’re tired from standing guard in front of his door. It’s a shack-like towel room across the hall from him. You aren’t complaining, anything is better than that stuffy carriage. And so it begins. The patience game you’ve played so many times. You stand completely still watching the hallways and counting the petals of the flower rug ahead of you. 

An hour or two, or maybe even five-- it’s hard to keep track in the same position, pass until Jaemin starts to crack the door of his bedroom open. He smiles at you from the little slot he created, and you scrunch your nose at him. He closes the door. A couple more minutes pass. He opens the door. He raises his eyebrows at you. You mimic him. He closes the door. He opens the door. He closes the door. He opens the door. He closes the door. He opens the door.

“Go back inside Your Majesty.”

He closes the door. Then he opens it again.

“But how are you going to rest?” he hits you with another classic Jaemin pout. “You didn’t even sleep in the carriage.” 

You point towards the small towel room across the hall.

He dramatically gasps, “how are you going to rest in there? Can you even sleep in that? You haven’t slept in two days!”

“Oh gosh… there are people out there who experience way worse than this. I’m used to it, don’t worry there’s nothing I can’t handle Your Majesty.”

“Jaemin!! I’m Jaemin!!”

“Shh!” You quiet him down, a pointer finger near your lips, “okay JAEMIN now go to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow.” 

“Go sleep in my chamber, let me try guarding you.” He opens the door fully, pulling on your arm before you push off his hand.

“No, what the fuck? My job is to keep you safe. I won’t allow you to stay out here, I’m not even gonna let you get the chance.”

“Then let’s sleep in my chamber.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“C’mon! No one has to know… one can even argue that you can keep me safe inside here better than outside!” 

“No.”

“But I’m so afraid!” He exaggerates being scared, placing the back of his palm on his forehead falling back, “I gotta keep my body guard near me!! What better way than to share this huge room!! What if someone comes in from the balcony??? Like last time??” 

You're reluctant but he shows determination with those pretty eyes of his, batting them at you like a mad man. You give in. 

In all honesty, Jaemin just wanted to hold your hand and be near you again. It's been too long. He takes your hand from the slot of his door, pulling you right in with the slam of it. 

“Okay Your Majesty, I think this place is as safe as it could get.”

Your fingertips graze the inside of the drawer, your back turned towards Jaemin as you mindlessly look for a threat that wasn’t there. The two of you ended up barricading his balcony door with the unnecessary amount of table stands in his room to calm him down from the possibilities of attacks. “I checked everywhere, can I go out now?” Your hand had picked up the specks of dust left in the compartment before closing it, arranging the dresser. 

“You want to go?”

Jaemin’s voice had lowered in octaves. Curious, you turn to face him, confused by his sudden change of tone. His eyes observe you, making you squeamish, as if he was studying your every move. You don’t move a muscle until he starts to take some soft strides towards you. You’re holding the edge of the drawer you were inspecting for leverage, to keep you on your feet. His body corners you, his lips slightly parted and his hair disheveled. His eyes are serious and tempting you in silence, while his hand reaches over to your side. He places it over your knuckles that have turned white from your grip on the drawers’ edge. 

You weren’t one to succumb easily to anything, always ready to put up a fight. Now you’re red in the face by his change of pace. Made no sense.

“I mean…” his forehead meets yours as you swallow the words caught in your throat, “it doesn't matter whether I go or not it's up to you….” your eyes wander around the room in panic. 

His chest moves up and down like his Adam's apple as he giggles, rough “eheheh”s leaving him, his hand slipping off you, removing himself from your space. You feel like something heavy had been lifted off your chest, but that was probably Jaemin. 

What was that for?

“Up to me you say?” He keeps giggling and the more he does it the more you find it endearing, “Well then I say you should take the bed over there,” he points and your eyes follow, “and I’ll take this love seat over here, alright???” He says it as if it was a matter of fact and not a suggestion. 

“Nonono not on my watch, you're laying in your own bed.” 

“NO!” He plops on to the sofa, scrambling to cover the entirety of it so you couldn’t sit down. His limbs branch out like a starfish, holding onto the cushions for dear life as you start pulling them off with force.

“Jaemin stop being so stubborn you’re already so nice to me!! I’m supposed to take care of you during this trip. Come on get up, don’t make my job harder.”

“y/n let me ask you a question.” Jaemin tucks his foot under the crease to steady himself. 

“Go ahead,” you start trying to pry off his fingers one by one but they suction back on the metal backing. 

“Have you ever laid on a bed like that in your life?” 

You look over to the bed. It was enormous and overly decorated for one person, at least eight pillows lined up on the headboard, “no.”

“Aren’t you curious to try it out?” this question makes you hesitate for a bit, “I knew it, you areeee.”

“So what?”

“So whAT?” He turns his head from the couch’s back to face you, “if I give you an opportunity to use me like this take it, life is too short for you not to have some fun.”

“I have plenty of fun, I’ll have you know.” 

“But does your fun allow you to jump on that huge ass bed?”

You can only look at his smooshed face. A serious smooshed face. 

“You know y/n, as long as I’ve lived I’ve only lived comfortably in beds like that. I didn’t really know how lucky I was until that night you saved me. When you’re in a position like that, you wonder how many people die never knowing a luxury like what sleeping on a soft bed feels like. Everyone here has responsibility, even I have my responsibility, but when you can you should enjoy yourself.”

You listen intently to every word he says, wondering if he genuinely is going on a serious tangent, or trying to distract you from getting off the sofa. It was both.

“Because if you don’t have any memories of happiness to hold on to are you even living? If you don’t try something you want to try at least once then what do you live for? The system? The rules? I-” he lets out an exasperated sigh, “you. You’re probably tired from all you do for me. Not only me, my family. You literally had no idea who I was but you risked your life for me, don’t you think that’s insane?”

“It’s all I know.”

“Well. I guess I just have to teach you more.”

You’ve given up on trying to undo him from the couch, silently agreeing with him. 

He sits up quickly, taking your hands hastily, pulling them to his chest, “just once, let’s play pretend and say you’re the princess,” he stands up with your hands still in his, taking you upwards with him, “hmmm hmmm hmm? Okay okay okay?” 

“o-okay.” You’re not left with much of a choice.

“MWAHAHAHAHA”

“You know this is the first time I’m sleeping somewhere that isn’t the cot or the carriage?” 

“Wow!” His hands are still wrapped over yours as he brings you to the bathroom entrance, continuing to talk, “That means this is even more special than having a sleepover, having a sleepover with me, the amazing super fun one of a kind unique prince Jaemin.”

He pushes the door with ease, releasing your hands to present you the washroom of your fantasies. Your initial reaction is walking over to the porcelain bathtub encrusted with different marble and gold designs, fascinated by the fancy soaps. 

“Jaemin!! These soaps are shaped like seashells!!”

His eyes are gentle on you, finding you endearing getting excited over the soaps. You turn to show him the soaps in your hands that smelled of jasmine flowers. He smiles then goes on to open the wardrobe built within the bathroom, detailed with beautifully painted on doves and greenery. He rummages through clothing on the hooks, “If you want to take a warm bath now let me know so I can help you with the basin and faucet,” he pushes away the suit he put in there earlier, “come here.”

You skip over to check on what he was searching for, the wardrobe oddly accommodating numerous articles of clothing. With an “ah-huh” that passes by, his head pivots to you, “When you change you can wear whichever of these gowns fit.”

“Gowns? To bed???”

“What else for? To the ball? These are sleeping gowns.” He snickers at you while you reach for one in a drawer, taking the material between your fingers. 

“These are really smooth woah,” you press the fabric to your face, “almost slippery.”

Jaemin takes the same fabric in his fist, “that would be the silk.”

“You could probably see my entire chest with this one!” You show him a nightgown resembling lingerie, lace frills at the bottom. 

“Y/n!” His ears tell on him, a crimson peaking through, placing the item of clothing back into the shelf, “anyways I’ll wait outside whenever you finish-- don’t worry I won’t bother you during this time-- enjoy your bath, I- well, um goodnight.” He speed walks out, closing the door tightly behind him.

Running the bath, figuring it out yourself due to Jaemin’s clumsy exit, you had realized that time had stopped. The second your entire body had submerged in the perfumed water, lathered up with the creamy seashell soap, time stopped. Water moved, it was always moving. But in this bathtub it was still. Calm. It was keeping you warm, as if it was the blanket holding you tight after being fresh out of your mother’s womb. It embraced you, familiar yet so new. A life of luxury you were living for just a second. For this one second, you had full control. No one, not even Jaemin, not the water, or the intense floral scent, not your duty, nothing was on top of you other than yourself. You believe this is called meditating, or was it called relaxing? When was the last time you relaxed, truly?

The nightgown you choose is made out of that extremely soft fabric you patted earlier. It slips on down to your knees, the spaghetti straps allowing a cool breeze to calm down the heat of your clean skin. As silly as it was, it really felt like you were a princess, just as Jaemin had intended. Never in your wildest dreams would you think that you’d be pampered by Jaemin. It was surreal having him around, acting like nothing happened. A fresh start. Oh Jaemin.

Jaemin pretends to sleep, squinting after hearing the creak of the bathroom door. He catches your tiptoeing form leap into the bed. You stretch your entire body over it, fluffing each and every pillow, causing several feathers to get out. It was like watching a puppy get a new toy. Your reaction is so cute, he can't help but feel fuzzy inside. He wants to keep you smiling like that forever. 

You had a feeling Jaemin was awake, looking over to the sofa to see him smiling. “Do you smile in your sleep?” 

He opens his eyes fully, silently admiring you who looks at him from above. 

“Are you sure you don't want the bed?”

“Certain!” He’s quick to turn around, his back facing you to stop any further conversation.

After blowing out the candles you shut your eyes tight, excited to rest. Unfortunately, you're restless; twisting and turning in the huge space. It was so different to what you were used to, much more empty. Maybe you were too excited to sleep, tossing around to savor every bit. 

“What’s wrong?” 

To your surprise, he’s still awake, either that or all the intense pillow fluffing and space-feeling noises woke him up. You perk upwards, leaning over to see him again, a pillow in your arms. 

“The bed is so nice, but it feels a bit weird.” 

“We can trade if you feel uncomfortable.” He begins to get up, but you extend your hands outwards quickly signaling him to stop.

“It’s okay! I love it! You really wanted me to try it out at least once, so I’ll just sleep… it just feels really big for me,” you awkwardly laugh, nervous all of a sudden, “we could even share the bed--” you shut your mouth, covering it with your hand after realizing what you just said, “Actually I didn’t say that sorry for even bringing it up-” 

Jaemin has already gotten up happily, hurriedly crashing into your shoulder as he hops into an empty spot into the bed. His smile shines brightly at you, tucking himself in under the covers on the left side. You bring the pillow in your arms closer to your chest, a bit more self-conscious than before as you scoot to the very edge of the other side, leaving lots of space in between you two. 

His little head pokes out of the duvet, “Don’t worry this bed is super vast you won’t even notice me here, so just sleep well now silly.” 

His eyes are closed and he breathes steadily. You wonder how he could just fall asleep in this situation. For a couple minutes you resist the urge to look at him again, but end up caving in and turning his direction, your head now on its side. No matter how many times you see him, he continues to captivate you. His beauty only radiates the more you get to know him, his personality alluring you more. You’re a bit sheepish about wanting to get closer to him, scooting inwards. You poke his flushed cheeks, making sure he was asleep. After confirming, you feel safe. Slowly drifting off watching the rise and fall of his chest. 

You probably didn’t know this about yourself, but you snore a little. Hearing the soft and infrequent heavy breathing, Jaemin opens his eyes. It was difficult to sleep soundly when you two shared a bed. He knew that if he couldn’t handle it, you wouldn’t either; which resulted in him faking it. And it worked. You were asleep. He watches over you fondly, getting even closer than you had. He moves your head with his arm so that your light snores stop and you are breathing comfortably. In your sleep, you hold onto his arm to cuddle it like the pillow. He has to stop himself from squealing or giggling, finding you adorable. With his other arm, he brushes the hair that has fallen over your eyes, getting back into his previous position, trying not to wake you. He caresses the side of your head, comforting you. He gently whispers to you sweet nothings to pass the time.

“You’re as delicate as spun glass.” He breathes in, “you have my whole heart do you know that? Sorry I couldn’t tell you when you were awake. But whenever I’m with you my heart goes like shoooouuuuungggg, like a shooting star.” He yawns, pulling you closer, “I wish I told you I liked you first. Then I wouldn’t have regrets. But look at you now, angelic in my presence.” 

His eyelids get heavy as he places a tender kiss to your forehead, “sleep well.”

Waking up, you find your head on Jaemin’s chest, his arm draped over you. Flabbergasted, you modestly remove it, slipping out of his hold to sprint into the washroom before he wakes. You would be lying if you said that wasn’t the best sleep you’ve ever had in your entire life. Was it the bed or was it Jaemin’s heartbeat? Who knew? You rush to replace your nightgown with your uniform, hoping no one would notice you were not at your post outside his room. Emerging out, you’re stunned once again. Jaemin’s bare backside is facing you, his shirt placed on the bed while he stretches to place the barricade back in their original positions. 

“UHEROEGWYWUEW sorry!” You close the door again, your back against it as blood rushes upwards. He takes hold of the door handle and pulls it open, causing you to plop out an embarrassed mess. 

“Did you sleep well?” He’s still shirtless and you start helping him with the drawers. 

“Yea it was really comfortable thank you, did you sleep well?” You look around the room.

“y/n.”

“Hmm?” you meet his eyes for a second max.

“You’ve seen me basically naked why are you acting so shy now?” 

You grab the shirt on the bed and twirl it, smacking him in the stomach. “Why are you being so cheeky? Of course in a life or death situation that’s the last thing on my mind.” 

“AH!” He rubs the area that started to sting, laughing off the pain, “what’s this, what's this? What’s the last thing on your mind?” He angles his head to the right, a shameless grin plastered on, taking back his shirt to cover up. 

After moving the last dresser you leave his room briskly, not batting another eye at him. Whilst exiting, two maids are outside chatting while carrying the Prince’s new clothes to change in and his breakfast. How many more times this morning will you be taken aback? 

“What were you doing in Your Majesty’s room?” the older one carrying his clothes asks you brazenly, causing the younger one to get second-hand embarrassment. 

“Oh, what I was doing-- well you see I was just making sure he was safe of course! Made sure nothing was wrong at all! Yup! Just doing my job!” You thought you were a better liar but they seem to take it. “You can enter now, he’s awake.”

Jaemin bursts open the door, holding a seashell soap, “Y/N! You forgot to take this and your nightgown-- oh.” He notices the ladies a little too late.

You could honestly make a red carpet out of your face right now, or bury yourself a grave. 

“Ahhh I see what’s going on.” The older one says again while the younger one makes eye contact with you and tries to suppress a smile. The younger maid hands you the food, while the older hands Jaemin his new clothes. “Don’t worry your secret's safe with me.”

Jaemin chokes up. The two maids leave, the younger turning to you and winking before giggling amongst themselves.

“You’re an idiot.” You lightly push Jaemin out of the door frame to place the food back in his room, damage done beyond repair. 

A kingdom tour made for a prince. New to accommodate these types of trips, you find yourself listening intently to the conversation Jaemin and the townsman coordinator were having. It was interesting listening to Jaemin speak in a professional tone about professional manners. Making you think, “ah, he is a prince after all.” Walking behind him as the rest of the officials stood in front, you could hear the topic flip flop between the economy and how it was shaping up and what they were able to offer Jaemin’s kingdom, to different places he could visit throughout the day as they spoke. His head nods, carefully taking in all the information. Eventually, you learned how to tune out their talk, finding it boring after a couple hours of traveling from place to place. You end up focusing on the divine scenery around you, enjoying the setting change. 

While walking down the streets, the officials stop talking to Jaemin and start discussing things with each other. He subtly slows down, his pace meeting yours. He glances in your direction and you pretend not to notice, examining the sign up ahead. His shoulder bumps into yours, trying to get your attention without being obvious. When he does it again his hand brushes against yours. You cast your eyes downwards, afraid that if you were to look at him your grin would clearly show. He tries to wrap his pinkie around one of your fingers, he can’t tell which one since he faces forwards. You nudge him the moment someone notices you two standing close, but he keeps coming back to stand near you. The officials in front of you ask Jaemin to come up to continue their discussion. Shrugging him off a little bit, he ends up putting his entire arm around your shoulders and ushering you upwards towards them.

“General Doyoung, I would like to introduce you to my most trusted guard. This is Chevalier y/n.”

“Oh really? Thank you for your service Chevalier.” Doyoung and the other elites scan you, perhaps trying to figure out why you are so special. “Anyways, Prince Jaemin, we were wondering where you would like to eat. As you know, our kingdom has tons of amazing bakeries as we are known for our dough and pastry goods, we also have a winery down near the public wells. Do you have any particular cravings as of the moment?”

Jaemin pauses in his princely manner, evidently thinking it over in his head. When he opens his mouth they all focus on him, “I don’t care,” he says with a smile on his face but everyone else has been left stupefied, “I would like my guard to decide.”

If everyone else wasn’t there you would’ve gone off on Jaemin, but now you were put on the spot. “Well, anywhere is fine, please direct us to your favorite eatery General Doyoung.”

You didn’t know how boring it would be to sit at a table with elites. There was an etiquette followed at the table, Jaemin showing you which utensil to use below the cloth. The place Doyoung picked out was as grand and high class an eatery could possibly be, a bit too extra for lunch in your opinion. You slowly consume your smoked salmon potato cakes with herbed crème fraîche, savoring the taste and reading the room. 

“Correct me if I am wrong Your Majesty, but you are attending our ball tonight, yes?” A worker dabs at the corner of his lips with a crisp white napkin tapered around his neck. 

“I certainly am, thank you for the warm invitation.” Jaemin wipes his mouth in a similar fashion.

Another worker from the right side of the table speaks up, “Our dances are of utmost quality Your Majesty, I am certain you’ll be enthralled.”

He nods while taking a sip of water from his wine glass. His eyes dart over to you, spaced out with a blank expression before smiling back at the table.

“Will you be attending with anyone? Perhaps Our Highness’s princess?” General Doyoung finishes his last bite of the meal, “Excuse me, we would like to be served dessert please!” He calls out to the waitresses.

“I plan to attend alone.” Jaemin gives a straight answer, “or with my guard of course, but other than that I don’t plan to have any other company.”

Dessert is placed out before all of you on the elongated table, beautiful puff pastries and a strawberry cake that could feed a family of sixty with its size daintily sitting on the trays. The waitress cuts a perfectly angled slice for each guest, including you. You look at Jaemin's plate, remembering his distaste for artificial strawberries. He only smiles, but you could tell he’s not excited, and begins to poke at it, everyone awaiting his thoughts on their famously renowned cake. You feel bad for him as he scoops it into his mouth, barely chewing before saying how amazing the taste is. 

What a lie. 

As others focus on their own slice you tap Jaemin’s thigh. Your lips jut outwards pointing to the cake and then down to your lap. He raises an eyebrow at you as if to say, “are you sure?, your head snapping quickly so he can act fast. You push your cake slice onto your lap, causing your pants to dirty. Jaemin slides his plate over to you while you slyly put your empty one in front of him. If someone noticed, it wasn’t obvious. You lower your head, pretending to look for something under the table.

“Is something the matter Chevalier?” Someone at Jaemin’s side asks, causing the table to refocus on the two of you.

“Chevalier y/n is just a bit tired that’s all--”

“Your Majesty did you already finish the cake?!”

“You eat with quite a gusto Prince Jaemin!”

“Would you like another slice?”

“No!” He recollects himself, “no thank you,” he smiles at them, “I’m full.”

Your head is still turned downwards, Jaemin wondering why your posture is bent so that they could not see your face. He leans back a little to see you better, the table resuming their discussion as they eat. He puffs his cheeks to breathe in the chortle he’s about to let out. You try to stuff your face with the cake fast, eating it so that no one is able to know of the slice existing. He ends up snorting, unable to contain his laughter. Although confused, Doyoung is the first to laugh, unaware of what was going on in your lap. Like Simon says, the rest follow suit. You finish up quick, wiping the remnants with a napkin, finally popping your head up with a full mouth. 

“Are you alright Chevalier? You look sickly.” The worker in front of you asks you with genuine concern. You’re scared to choke if you respond, looking over to Jaemin for help. 

“She often gets indigestion after eating salmon, no need to worry.” His tone of voice causes no more questions to be inquired.

Under the table, his palm finds the small of your back and gently rubs it. 

“Prince Jaemin?”

The both of you had returned to the chamber. The clergymen have announced the start of the ball, Jaemin being fashionably late. You patiently wait outside the door for him, an hour passing by standing guard. You assume it takes a lengthy amount of time to get into a suit and style yourself for a ball as fancy as this one. Another hour passes by. It wasn’t your place to enter his chamber whenever you wanted, but titles aside you started to grow concerned. Yes, it does take awhile to get ready, but two hours late to a grand ball? Seemed off. Your foot taps impatiently causing small echoing sounds to be passed around in the hallway. You pivot and decide to check up on him. Your hand finds the handle, pulling it with a heavy hand after receiving no response. 

The room is pitch black besides the moonlight poking through. Your eyes scan the room, looking for Jaemin. To the left, the love seat he had plastered himself to was once again occupied. His body hunched over shaking uncontrollably. The grip he has on the side is tight, his breathing rapid and coarse. His dress shirt is only halfway done, his suit jacket thrown on the bed. 

You scramble to his side the moment you notice him, taking his hands in yours, his eyes frantically shuddering. He’s sweating and paranoid, lips chapped. You rub your thumbs over his knuckles, trying to calm him down. He’s having trouble forming a sentence.

“It’s okay, it’s okay you don’t need to speak.” You try to think of how a mother would comfort a child, soft spoken and patient. His eyes find yours in the dark, like candlelight flickering in a wild forest when all is lost. He decides to focus on looking at them, thinking of nothing else. 

“Breathe with me,” his trembling head nods and follows, “one, two, three inhale, one two three exhale,” you squeeze his hands tighter. “Again, okay? One two three inhale, one two three exhale.” He breathes out. 

You’re his conductor. Instructing him like a broken orchestra getting back on track. He pulls you into an embrace, lifting your knees off the floor to be held by him again. He wraps his arms to pull you in as close as he can, his breathing returning to normal. The idea of going to a ball after the last ambush pushing him to a breaking point. You bury your chin in the crook of his neck, patting him gently to the rhythm of the faint music you could hear from outside.

“I’m here,” you tell him, “I’m here.”

Jaemin enters the foyer. You helped him get ready prior, making sure he could stand up and gather strength to attend. He is even able to captivate you, someone who has seen what has gone on behind the scenes, when he strides in with confidence. To people who haven’t seen him on the regular he appears to them like he knows what he is doing, eyes glowing with clarity and movements swift and to the point. He stuns them with his attendance, but you don’t blame them; he’s breathtaking. You follow behind him, not as close as usual, waiting for him to meet the dance floor. Expecting others to ask for his hand, waiting to dance with him, you watch him twinkling from a distance. 

No one seems to approach the prince out of courtesy and from timidness to even look in his direction. He searches in the crowd, jotting his neck upwards and out to find you. Facing you, he stops tiptoeing and retreats back to the floor, grounded, waving you over with the vague movements of his hand. Walking over to him amidst the crowd, he takes your hand. The ones who notice pretend as if they didn’t see anything, shocked but powerless. 

“What are you doing?” 

He takes your other hand, interlocking your fingers, “you look gorgeous.”

You laugh, hoping that the music drowns it out, “I’m wearing what I wear everyday.”

“Did I stutter?” His footing begins to take part in the rhythm of the orchestra, “Let’s dance princess, stay close.”

And so you do. Holding his hands and awkwardly looking downwards to match his dance steps. He goes slower than usual, a simple side-to-side step so you’re able to follow easier. He smiles to himself, eyes concentrated on you concentrating so hard to get it right. You try to match the tempo; he tries to match with you. 

“See, see? You’re getting the hang of it-- ow,” you step on his toe on accident, both your arms in the air to check the steps again, “you know what? I take it back.”

Giggling, you tug a bit on his hand recalling his attention back up, “do a twirl! Do a twirl!” You’re so excited to spin him around and his expression melts, shoulders dropping down and his teeth showing, his eyes brightly smiling at you. He twirls with your hand in his, laughing at how silly you two are being. Once he returns, with his free hand he brings you in closer by your waist, your faces almost meeting. You catch your breath seeing him up so close. His hand still on your waist, the two of you start swaying to the music.

Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub. That’s what your hearts say. It would be nice if it could stay like this forever.

Your head looks across his shoulder, embracing the moment. Slowly, your eyes open and absorb your surroundings. Jaemin continues to hold you, moving you along with him. But your eye catches something. There was something off with the orchestra. You want to get a closer look but decide against it, keeping a distance. 

You pause. 

Across the room lies an image that will continue to haunt you even with your eyes closed. The thin curtains that cascade near the orchestra covers them to only an extent. The breeze picks up, sending chills down your spine and brushing past them. Your skin begins to crawl, sweat picking up at the corner of your temple with the palpitations of your heart. The conductor is no longer in his original place. Yet, the orchestra continues to play with fervor, trembling at the strings like they’re being held captive. The music is intense and all over the place. Your grip on Jaemin tightens when you see the conductor. Past the curtain, past the orchestra and in the shadows he sits. Lodged down his throat is his golden baton. Blood boils up in his open mouth like a crimson soup. His eyes bore into yours, but they’re empty. Lifeless. You want to throw up, take Jaemin and run. You want to push him off you in shock, absolutely disgusted with how everyone was dancing like nothing was wrong when a man sat in the darkness, murdered in cold blood. You catch a glimpse of the sheet music the orchestra plays off, stained with blood spread across like a spider capturing all the notes in its spindly legs. Questions in your head go berserk; who killed the conductor, and who is telling them to play on. Play on or face death. They’ve found you.

“Is something wrong?” Jaemin asks besides your ear, your hands still holding onto his arms while your eyes dart over every exit in the room to study. But this wasn’t the palace you were familiar with; unsure who was an ally, which exit led to safety or which one will lead to your end. It was out of your control. You were lost but you know right now would not be the time to panic, especially in front of Jaemin. You look over him calmly, hopeful that you’ve concealed your worry behind a calm smile. You squeeze his arms and he holds you at a distance, confused. You need to start acting fast, pulling Jaemin past the crowd to blend in, your hand is tight over his. 

Tables are safe right? Tables are good! Tables are splendid! God, you were so overwhelmed.

You start ushering Jaemin to head under one of the tables that go somewhat unnoticed amongst everyone, furthest away from the orchestra as possible so that you could figure out where to escape. He knew the moment he saw you pause that something was wrong. Being in denial, he tries to believe that you just wanted to talk to him in private. But who talks in private under a dessert table?

Your hand is on his shoulder, motioning with your head for him to duck down. Jaemin’s energy from your dance flips over to his earlier gut wrenching feeling about the night. He goes completely silent and starts to shake visibly once again, placing his hand over your hand to find some type of comfort. 

“Everything is going to be okay, look people are dancing and having fun.” You tell him to calm him down, trying to remind yourself to stay grounded in the process. “It’s going to be okay.”

A gasp is heard at the center of the dance floor. Taking Jaemin’s shoulders, you press them down and push him under the table cloth so he doesn’t witness anything and is out of sight. Turning your head to the sound, your body goes numb. No matter how many times you witness a death, or how many times you kill a man you will never get over it. Parting like the red sea, people split the dance floor into two, running to anywhere but here. Your world begins to slow once again. At the center stands a lady dressed in white like a beacon of light amidst the chaos. Her throat is slit at an angle that makes the blood starting to spill look like a delicate ribbon around her neck. It pours down her decolletage messily. Your ears ring, the time in which you meet her eyes and to when she falls to the floor slowing down. With her eyes she screams at you, “help me please”, but everything is happening and you can only stand there, staring. Why can’t you move? Why can’t you do anything? The orchestra still plays. The music is fuzzy. Everything is fuzzy. The pool under the poor lady coats her entire dress. This isn’t real. No, no, no, no. 

From under the cloth, Jaemin extends a hand out to lightly hold your ankle. You can breathe. 

You will protect him at all costs. Standing close to the table, you seek out people who can help you. Scanning the room, you realize it’s useless. The people fleeting in all different directions blend in with the enemy. It would be like trying to figure out which one out of a hundred of apples was rotten on the inside. 

Your heart drops to the floor and you feel your face grow paler in complexion when a man with a knife runs from the orchestra curtains straight at you. Your trembling hands act quicker than you think, reaching fast for the end of your sword to pull out, feeling your eyes get wider when panic sets in completely, the man coming towards you faster. You’re terrified of the crazed look in his eyes, no physical mask is placed on his face but he wears a crooked smile like he’s excited to see you afraid. He plunges at you with his knife. Your shaking hand turns into a fist, blocking it with your wrist and throwing it over his shoulder with your forearm. He grabs at your neck, trapping you in a choke hold from behind. If this was Jeno you would be tapping. But this was not Jeno. 

You arch your elbow, jabbing their hipbone with as much strength as you can. His gut is punctured, giving you visual access to see his feet. You throw your leg up backwards, kicking right in the groin to push him off you, taking his arm and twisting it until you hear it get fractured. Forcefully pinning him down to the ground with your knees, you use your free hand to release your sword. You pierce through his back, stumbling back a bit when lifting up your weapon with both hands. You push aside any guilt building up in your chest, wiping off any stained exposed skin against your suit. You wish Jaemin didn’t see. You don’t want him to see. 

Guards in knight uniform start circling around the area. You start strategizing immediately. Safe exits are clearer, the rush of people sprinting over from one end to another creates pandemonium. Now or never. Leaning down, you get a hold of Jaemin’s hand. 

“Come on, come on.” 

Every second is life or death. Jaemin practically flies up to you, feet already picking up the pace. You push him in front of you, letting go of his hand so he can run faster. You watch his back, following him amidst the mayhem. 

One moment you’re running behind him and the next you’re on the ground. It happened in a flash-- someone grabs you with their filthy hands and kicks you down in between your shoulder blades. You scream, a pain like no other spreading in the area. You try blocking their next kick with your arms but they swing right at your head. You collapse, head bumping into the pavement. You black out. 

Jaemin knew he should never look back in this type of scenario. He should keep running. He needs to keep going. He has to go. But he knows your voice. He could’ve gotten whiplash from how fast he turned. He sees you on the floor. Someone is kicking you even when you’re unconscious. Something powerful washes over him and the next thing he knew he was grabbing a fallen soldier’s rod and wacking the fuck out of the person over your body. Throwing the person away, he kneels over you. He takes your limp form into his arms, crouching down, shaking you.

“y/n!” His hands go from your shoulders to your cheeks, desperately patting them to wake you up, “y/n!” It’s not safe here. He lays you back down to switch positions. He picks you up, draping you over his back to carry you out. He’s made it to the point his foot is ready to propel him to the exit. The enemy spots him. His body is in shock and you slip off of him. Guards have already come to his rescue, seeing the prince helpless. Reaching to his left abdomen, he’s in disbelief. He feels the hot blood. His own hot blood. It spreads onto his fingers. He looks at it. The sound of others’ voices only echo off him, only his pulse left. He’s hit with tranquilizing pain. His knees give out. He lays with you, unable to move his limbs. 

He forces his eyes open so he can see you, the rest of him out of his control. A guard lifts him, his body being thrown over the large man’s shoulder. You get further and further from him. His dry lips part to say something, anything to help you. His struggle to stay up ends when someone else takes you, lifting you and heading to where Jaemin is. He’s relieved. He can finally close his eyes.

There’s a ceiling. Oh. You have lived to see another day. Your skull feels like it’s about to explode; the thumping feeling pooling around in different areas. On the infirmary bed your back aches and so does the rest of your body. Bruises litter you by the dozen, the feeling fresh and extremely sore. Slowly, you tilt your head to glance around at your sides. Cheap white fabric creates boundaries between you and the rest of the patients in the room. You aren’t sure how many patients were here or where in the kingdom you were located. 

Jaemin.

Gently lifting your head and body, you sit upwards. The placement of your jaw and the dislocation of your neck hurts like hell but it wasn’t anything you weren’t used to. The throbbing feeling sends a wave over all of a sudden, causing you to go dizzy. You sit still until you’ve adjusted to the pain. To your right, you rip the curtain open. 

There he lays, sleeping deeply. Observing his body you see his stab wound bandaged tightly. It must’ve hurt really bad. Before you knew it, you were sobbing. You hate how you weren’t able to protect him better. You hate how you couldn’t fight better. The more tears you produce the more your headache grows but you can't stop. You hunch your back over to his bedside, grieving into the flimsy material. You find his hand with your eyes shut, quivering in despair at the touch. 

Clutching it tightly, raising his knuckles to your cheekbone so you can rest your head. Inhaling deeply as you weep, “Your Majesty please wake up.” He cannot hear you. 

Time passes but you are untouchable. “Your Majesty please,” the words weakly pass your lips. 

The sun meets the moon to play. You can’t bring yourself to do anything but stay by his side. Not only because you’re too weak to move anywhere else, but because you needed to. Needed to not from obligation to royalty, but to an obligation to your heart. 

“Your Majesty.” This day the sky had no sun. It was solid and clear, big and vast, bright and blue. Your eyes still rain. 

“Jaemin.”

Your eyes light up, head lifting to face him. 

“How many times do I have to tell you? It’s Jaemin.” His voice is hoarse. 

You’re so relieved you might go insane. You burst into tears, ripping out the ugliest cry you’ve ever had combusted into in your entire life.

“I’m so relieved.”

“You’re relieved? Bitch what? I’m the one who's relieved--” you’re catching your breath, the curse words slipping out unintentionally cause a ghost smile to form on Jaemin’s mouth. 

“I’m relieved to see you by my side.” His fingers lace their way into yours, taking your hand closer to him. “So don’t cry anymore. As gorgeous as you are expressing any emotion, don’t cry for me princess. It hurts.” 

You sniff, your eyes itchy from the tears while you quickly dab at them with your arms, “oh shut up,” you let out a chuckle, “you’re the dumbest prince I’ve ever met!”

“But I’m the only prince you’ve ever talked to so…”

“You!” Gosh you were an emotional wreck. You don’t even know how you feel, it just came out naturally. Dropping his hand, you cover your face so you could catch your tears in your palms. His outstretched hand takes yours so that he could see your face. It’s puffed up and red, your lips are pressed together trying to hold back spilling anything more. He caresses your cheek, wiping over them with his thumb. The look in his eyes says it all. Softly he tells you:

“I’m so in love with you.” 

You stare at him. He doesn’t expect any answer back from you, his words so raw and powerful it’s all the energy he had left to say before fluttering his eyes shut to rest. 

Recollecting yourself, you lean over to his cheek. “I love you,” you seal the words on his skin. He opens his eyes again, seeing your face close. His heart swells. You retract your head a bit to give him space but his fragile hands cup your head into his hands to bring you down to him. He meets your lips for a chaste kiss, slow and meaningful. He applies pressure to the back of your head gently, the intention pure. His eyelashes brush against your face while his soft lips linger on yours.

“So you’re telling me you’re in love with the prince?” 

You haven’t seen Jeno in a month, returning back to your cot excited to tell him all about your expenditures with Jaemin. When you meet him, he’s wrapping his fist in a cloth bandage, standing up near the chest of your shared bunker. His back faces you as you’re sitting on your small bed, swinging your feet. 

“Yeah. I am.”

Jeno chuckles at you, “y/n, do you even know what love really is?”

“What are you trying to say? How I feel isn’t love?”

“I’m not saying that it’s just-”

“It’s just what?”

“You’re being really naive right now.” 

“Are you looking down on me?”

“I’m not.”

“Then why aren’t you facing me? If you don’t support me, say it to my face.”

Jeno drops his hand, his head hanging back for a moment before he sighs. Even when his back faces you his current expression is obvious. He continues to look through the bunker and busy himself with organizing the supplies. You feel like a thousand words are being said in silence. The air is like a knot in your shoulder: tense. 

“You’re being so defensive for no reason-”

“No reason? You just asked me if I knew what love is! Do you even understand how I feel?!”

He finally snaps his head to look at you. His gaze is filled with annoyance, his point not making its way across to you clear enough. Sighing softly, he rubs his temples with both of his knuckles so he can recollect himself. On the other end, your jaw has tightened, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I’ll never understand how you feel, but at least I can respect it. I’m just looking out for you as your friend, don’t you get it? Falling in love??? Was that even an option?? In this climate too y/n. You’ve gotten involved in two whole attacks within these couple months alone.” 

Your shoulders drop back down, guilt making the back of your neck and ears tickle with pink. You bite the inside of your cheek. Jeno keeps going.

“Like how does that even work y/n?!? You and Jaemin? Do you think he’s just gonna keep going on these rendezvous with you until the day he dies? Don’t you know how dangerous it is for you to be personally attached to him-- what more, romantically?”

“I was personally attached to him the moment he found us playing in the yard Jeno, I can't help but give in to what's already there. What’s the use of keeping to ourselves when we feel the same way? Who knows if I’ll even live to see the next day-”

“Don’t say that.” Jeno picks at his bandage, the strap being adjusted. “I see your point,” he pauses to walk over to his bed, parallel to yours in order to speak to you at the same head level, “no use in depriving yourself if the feeling is mutual. But a prince, y/n? Not even a prince, our prince! Both of you are insane… ”

“I understand your concern, but I honestly feel like I’m living for myself for once, you know? Like, I feel like I’m on cloud nine! There wasn’t any formula, it just happened. Like…” your eyes light up at Jeno, explaining the feeling, “like everything that’s ever happened led up to the moment we found each other, you know? Out of all the people in the world we found each other in the middle of disaster.”

He looks at you sympathetically. You’ve obviously haven’t thought that far ahead, blinded by the present to not see the inevitable future of this situation. It wasn’t your fault, he knew that. He felt sorry for you.

“I don’t want to be the one who brings you back from your cloud, but I can already see all the upcoming problems revolving this relationship. As much as I want to support you guys I know your heart is going to break y/n.”

“How could you be so sure?”

“Have you forgotten what princes do y/n?”

You slowly begin to back track. The reality of what you’re doing coming to you.

“Princes marry princesses, y/n. Princes are used for political advantages to make kingdoms grow. Princes are used as game pieces, their roles used to bring honor to their families. What brings honor the most? Wouldn’t you do the same in order to fulfill your duty?” Jeno breathes in, calming down to sit with you on your bed. He places a hand on your shoulder. “I know you aren’t stupid, so please think about it. Especially now while we trace back the invaders.”

You aren't stupid. But it was true. These butterflies in your stomach could only flutter for so long. In the grand scheme of things you were alone. In the grand scheme of things you were going to die alone. Each life was a tragedy, rather it be now or in the future-- it all ends in death. In the grand scheme of things how you felt was insignificant. In the grand scheme of things it didn't matter how in love you were, or how happy you were, or how sad you were. The history books will never know of you. Prince Jaemin would simply be a face painted and gazed at without much thought within the stretch of time. You wonder what would've happened if you died the night you met Jaemin. If you had not confessed. If you weren't speaking to Jeno. 

There's a saying -- “Ignorance is bliss.” You’ve heard it many times and now it was in conduct. 

“I…” you take time with your words, measuring their value in your head, “you’re right. Jaemin wouldn't turn a blind eye to this kingdom or is his duty. He wouldn't give up his duty to his family, and even if he did--” you inhale, “I wouldn't let him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You're right.” You felt your body grow heavy, placing your face into your palms to recollect yourself and reflect into the future. You didn't think of the future until you met Jaemin. You wanted to live on with him. But how was that possible? You were a knight. You could die at any point.

“OF COURSE I’M RIGHT!!” Jeno’s voice comes in a shock to you, suddenly breaking the somber mood with his hurried speech and intense tone. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say!!! And if you are planning to marry him, expect treason without the permission of his father and mother!!! My good friend, be prepared for death and evaluation!!! It was nice knowing youuuuu!!!!” He grabs you by your shoulders and vigorously shakes you back and forth. “AHHHHHH!!!!” He screams so loud you're sure it's gone over 120 decibels. You're so confused by his bizarre actions, he's gone absolutely bonkers. You're so bewildered that your body is trying to choose whether to laugh or cry. Was this Jeno’s way of comforting you? Screaming?

Your reaction is to laugh, “AHHHHH” you reciprocate his scream, letting it out and causing a disturbance to other cots. 

He stops shaking you. You laugh the pain away.

“It’s just the facts y/n!!! Even peasants are sold off and have arranged marriages set up by their parents all the time!! What more the fricken Prince!!! We will never be the exception!!” Jeno laughs the words out, stretching them out as if what he was saying was positive. 

“Do you know what happened to the girl Prince Jungwoo was in love with?” You try to find comfort in knowing the facts. Knowing what could happen to you. Jeno shoots you an expression, one that translates to “oh boy” and lifts his legs over your bed. He heads over to the basket of goods Jaemin had given you, grabbing some snacks for the both of you to chew on. According to the chief, chewing reduces stress. 

“Well, I’m sure you already know what happened to her but do you really want to be reminded?” He plops a pear into your lap. You nod, biting into the pear. “Didn't she like--” he swings his hand around his neck in a slicing motion. 

“But do you know if it was her own doing or…?” 

“Does it really make a difference? In the end Jungwoo ended up securing a deal.”

“This is so dumb. I’m sure she was her own person too, with hopes and ambitions.”

“Love is death,” he clears his throat, “Ah what a tragic love story, I mourn for you guppie.” He pats you dramatically as you chew even harder. 

“Man,” you swallow the mush, “I would never want him to be disinherited.” Jeno could see a million gears working hard behind your eyes. “They’re probably going to use him to form an alliance or strengthen territorial holdings-- shitttt.”

“‘Shitttt indeed.” 

“I feel like I need to talk to Jaemin about this. But what am I supposed to say?? ‘Oh Jaemin this is probably gonna end bad but I still want to be with you’?? Messed up.”

“I just want you to be prepared. I hope you know I’m only going over facts with you for your own good. Just be wary-- it hurts, yes. But we have to sacrifice ourselves. That's who we are, our place. We are meant to die dude, which is fucked up yeah, but inevitable.” 

There's a saying -- “Ignorance is bliss.” On the contrary there's a second part to the sentence people regularly omit; “But knowledge is power.”

The closer you are to something the more likely it is to hurt you. A lawyer who knows the rules front and back is more likely to break them without facing consequence. A salesman who knows the trade of business is more likely to use some trickery to bargain. 

These days pass without seeing Jaemin, and when you do, it’s simply a glimpse. He’s busy. You’re busy. News has come in about the spike of invaders coming after him and the kingdom, and now you’re more occupied than ever. Investigations led by your commander and the soldiers in the other district have been going on for weeks now, only slivers of information sprouting from time to time. That was before the letter. 

It was sent directly into Jaemin’s windowsill via pigeon. The odds of birds transporting the mail correctly still confuses you, but the fine print was finally in sight and there was nothing else to depend on. 

Being an elite, you could hardly imagine the amount of paranoia they would face; constantly being under the public eye, not being sure who and who not to trust-- and the letter given proves exactly that. 

Signed, yours truly, the King’s closest friend.

It baffles you how someone considered a friend is so quick to turn an enemy. The closer they are, the more the betrayal hurts. But it makes sense how they knew everything, or where everyone was located, or who was on post to a tee-- they’ve familiarized themselves with the area. This kingdom was their second home. They’ve demolished your people and this connection all in the name of power. 

The weight on Jaemin’s shoulders must be unbearable.

“y/n!! My love!!”

Plopped at the center of the gazebo is the Prince. A quarter past seven in the evening, barely even dark out and he had already thrown back one bottle of champagne. 

“What a surprise to see you here.” You calmly close the gate behind you, taking your time. You had been taking your time with everything, savoring life as it was. Still visiting the garden every so often, it was better to have no expectations of seeing your lover at your designated time anymore. 

Walking towards him, you take notice of his disheveled hair and clothes. A vein at the side of his neck looks one poke away from popping. The man glows with stress and alcohol consumption. 

You sit next to him as your hand finds a glass of its own, needing to unwind as much as possible. Words aren’t used much between you two, sipping your worries as if they were embedded in the droplets of champagne. Jaemin grows heavy next to you, leaning a bit on your arm to keep himself stable and upright. He was so warm. The moment he had touched you again made you remember why you found comfort in him in the first place. 

“Why aren’t you interested in me?” Jaemin’s voice cracks up and breaks the silence first. You look over to him pouting and flushed, not realizing you had been zoning out the entire time.

“I am interested in you.”

“Then you should look at me when you can.” His voice comes out serious this time. 

Jaemin surprises you often. You learn about different sides of him as time goes on; sometimes serious and mature, other times vulnerable, hyper and full of energy, and more you have yet to encounter. It was like you fell in love with a new side of him each time. 

He loses his composure, “I want to…” his tongue seems to be lost in his mouth as he slurs his words, “see your face more.”

And you don’t know why but tears start trickling down. You’re confused on why they were coming without a stop, unable to control them. Jaemin rises off your arm, suddenly shaken up by your crying. He brings his body up but you take his arm to make him sit quickly, afraid he might lose strength in his legs. 

He stares at you. Something in him aches, like a bad omen cracking open. But then you look at him again and everything is okay. He smiles at you so genuinely and buzzed as you make sure he doesn’t fall over. 

“What’s wrong?” He says it so bluntly. 

“Nothing.”

“Liar!” He grabs your face so that you’re stuck looking at him, squishing it hard. “Tell me what's wrong. Tell me pretty please. Please please please?”

“I think I'll become your biggest burden.”

He blinks at you for a second before something in his head clicks and his eyes enlarge, “how could you say that about yourself?!”

“Just a thought,” you decide to put the explanation on the side for now, saving the conversation for when he’s sober. 

“Not a very good one,” he releases your face just so he could position it for a finger flick. “I need to,” he hiccups, “get rid of your bad thoughts,” you don’t even resist or avoid the flick of his middle finger onto your forehead.

“Ow,” you rub at it with your thumb. 

Recognizing what he’s done he grabs the crown of your head this time, murmuring “sowwy” into your scalp before pressing his lips to your forehead. With a “mwah” sound left behind he looks at you again and then goes back for another one. He moves your head closer to him to peck at your cheek one last time.

But then it falls back into silence. Even tipsy, you both have the lingering feeling of being on guard. It’s unspoken but it’s there. The invaders are on your mind, the next step is on his. 

“Why didn’t you see me after I confessed to you?” You blurt out to get any topic out there. 

Jaemin dramatically throws his head in his hands and peeks up at you between his fingers. He thinks for a bit, humming aloud. “Do you really wanna know?”

You nod.

“It’s embarrassing though…” 

“It’s okay I won’t judge.”

“Mmm it was my first decision. To avoid you too.” You wait for him to gather his thoughts so he can answer clearly, “Like a resistance of temptation so I don’t have to suffer consequences. Except… I realized it wasn’t temptation at that point I had already fallen and I couldn’t stop.”

“Would you take it back? Us meeting?”

He doesn’t hesitate, “never.”

The room is lacking warmth of any kind. The heels of your feet resist rocking back and forth from staying in place for too long. There’s soft piano playing in the far off distance, echoing from one wall to another. The notes were broken, the unfamiliarity of the instrument being new to whoever was practicing. Two huge doors rest between you and officer Donghyuck, but you don’t dare glance his way. You stare at Jaemin’s back instead; how tensed up it was and how professional he seemed from behind. 

“Don’t you find it sick how they betrayed me son? The kingdom we partnered up with at that!” The King spits some impulsive rant onto Jaemin. Going on about how much he trusted the off-land kingdom only to be met with disappointment. “All because they found out we started exchanging with the other one more frequently. I can’t believe how quick they were able to find you there!”

“Yes father.” Jaemin doesn’t even look at him in the eyes. He just takes it. And keeps on taking it.

“This is my fucking legacy!” The King’s saliva slurs in his mouth, heating himself up at the mix-matched thought process running through his head. “They have the nerve to try to end it! If it’s bloodshed they want, they won’t find it here! Despicable!” He rises just to sit back down. 

“Yes father.”

Without moving your head, your eyes train themselves on the Queen and Jungwoo who sit poised at the other end of the front of the room. They express no emotion, as still as Jaemin. They were playing the patient game you were so familiar with.The King’s throne shakes at the grumble of his voice, lecturing more and more with the same point across. 

“But you know what-- we won’t have it. We aren’t going to wage a war they are expecting us to prompt, no no no--” he chuckles with some type of pride, “of course not! I know exactly what we are going to do to fix this. To stop attacks!” He claps his hands to add a melodramatic effect to his mantra. 

All eyes in the room look at him expecting. 

He smiles and sighs out, “my son, you are the cure to their envy. The key to peace.” 

You weren’t prepared for it to happen that fast. 

Something shifted in that room. No words spoken yet there was a different energy emitting from everyone in there besides the King.

“No father.”

It felt like you could finally breathe and stopped breathing all at the same time. 

“No?” The King’s smile slowly deflates into a flat line. “Did you just,” he pauses in disbelief, “say no?”

“I will not be put in an arranged marriage. There’s other ways to work around the invaders and the neighboring kingdom father. You can’t just keep having sons fulfill the purpose of a bridge.”

“And why is that?” He says it with mockery laced in his tone. He’s amused by this sudden act of defiance.

You keep your mouth shut. Under your helmet you cower in fear. 

“I’m in love.”

The King is in hysterics. Holding his cramped up abdomen with his hand while he stomps with his foot opposite to it. Jaemin is baffled, his left foot moving backwards at the way his own father ridicules him. The relaxed palms at his sides curl inwards, a red glow shining through in frustration. Watching the situation unfold, he swivels to the back and you’re snapped back into reality the moment his hand tugs at your wrist. He brings you to the front no matter how hard you try to wriggle out of his grasp. 

He repeats it again, you by his side: “I’m in love.”

The King grows quiet, eyebrows raising upwards. He lifts steadily this time. Each step he takes towards the both of you is powerful. Jaemin’s grip hardens on you, bracing the two of you. 

“Soldier remove your helmet.” 

You feel your pulse bumping against your ears. The wrist encased in Jaemin’s hand peels him off. Bringing your shaky hands to the bottom of your helmet, you strip it off.

Slap.

His hand cracks against the area that connects your jaw to your cheek, leaving a red welt behind. It comes more to you as a shock than anything else. Standing still and your eyes watery, Jaemin is quick to clutch your face.

“You think you’re entitled to my son just because you protect us? Entitled to a place here?” His voice booms, growing louder with every word. “Who do you think you are, seducing my son? A power play? Oh please-- you’re below us. Know your place.”

You hold your breath, eyes boring into a spot on the King’s shoulder. You don’t dare speak up. You don’t dare to cry in front of him.

“Son, have you lost your goddamn mind?” Again, he stretches out a condescending laugh, “How will she benefit us? You can find another whore like this anywhere else. She can be easily replaced. A knight? Really? They’re basically worthless.”

Jaemin keeps hold of your hand. He might yell. You can see it in the way his eyes glare upwards.

With a daunting finger, the King provokes you, poking into your shoulder. “Do you feel haughty because my son likes you?” He pokes, “do you think just because you risk your life for us we’ll see you as special? An exception?” His touch is numb to you, “Oh I know! You think you’re a princess don’t you?” He looks over to Jaemin, a scheme plastered onto the teeth he showcases to him, “You don’t want her to end up like Jungwoo’s little mistake do you?”

Without looking you know something on Jungwoo’s side cracked. Attention concentrated completely on his father. He’s hurt.

“Your Majesty enough. Do not bring that woman up in front of our son again,” the Queen shifts too. Her voice comes out as a falter, unable to defend with confidence. 

The King doesn’t listen.

“Do you want me to kill her son?” 

How come you only knew how to take it? How come you all were just taking it? 

“Did our commanders teach you to be like this? Fall in love and spend time diddle daddling with my son?”

“Father enough.” Jungwoo raises his voice this time. Pain so evident in his pores; first-handedly seen this scene unravel. 

“Fine. I must admit it would be cruel to say death was the answer.” He only gives you three seconds of silence before continuing, “Chevalier y/n you’re exiled. Pack it up. I never want to see your face after tonight.”

With whatever front you had left, you finally wriggle out of Jaemin’s grasp. You can’t talk, opting for a bow instead.

You exit the room, walking far down the corridor until your knees go weak. Your hand curls into a fist, grasping tightly within itself until your nails penetrate the inside of your palm. The trembling of your body resembles that of an earthquake; goosebumps spreading from your neck to your legs. Your feet stumble one of another as you push yourself to lean against a wall to hold you up. You feel gutted. Humiliated. Worthless. Powerless. 

“y/n,” Jaemin snaps your shoulders to turn you in his direction. His expression goes sullen seeing your eyes clouded with heated tears. 

You’re angry. More than angry, absolutely defeated. You shrug Jaemin off you forcefully, pulling your arm back. Despite fighting him off, he tries to hold onto you as you squirm under his grip. 

“You know, life has been too blissful lately it makes sense it was going to end like this,” your words are painful through gritted teeth. You look up at Jaemin who is still trying to hold onto you, a fierce look in your eyes. “Jeno was right,” you laugh bitterly, “we couldn't be together even if we tried.”

Jaemin finally lets you go, his hands sliding off you. You hurt him. “You don't mean that--”

You laugh again, inhaling to catch your breath, “how much do you love me?” 

Jaemin is stunned at your directness of the question. “What are you talking about? A lot--” his eyebrows furrow not sure of how to respond, “it can't be something you can measure, you-”

“How long are you willing to wait?”

“You know I’m in love with you.”

“But how long are you willing to go this far for me? Will you defy everyone, everything, your own father for me? If you're planning to do that then don't love me anymore.”

“You don't decide what I want y/n.” Jaemin is seething, his response firm enough to be tangible. “How could you say that so easily? How could you give up so easily?”

“Jaemin!” Your composure is lost, distress bubbling in your voice, “do you not get it?” At this point the tears have streamed past down your chin and onto the material of your suit. Jaemin retracts at your voice, his heart tearing at the seams. Your voice chokes up, “It's not about love anymore. It's about serving a purpose for the greater good, it's about dedication and being devoted to your family! It's about saving the lives of your people for peace and unity as long as you fucking can with every single fiber of your being. It’s more than us.”

Jaemin is silent for a second, swallowing. His eyes jump around, shaking with the thoughts locked behind them. He talks like a mad man, breathless and hanging on a rope that's about to give in at any second, “I-ill ask!! Jungwoo already dealt with something like this… I-i’m sure that they’ll, no, they have to oblige to me! I’m not that important! I’m just second to the throne! I’m sure there's another way-- we can be together! We will be together.” He’s smiling through tears. Like he’s lost it. Maybe he has.

“Don’t be foolish.” You provoke him.

He just laughs, reaching out to you. You shake him off again.

“I hate you.” 

His laughing stops. Gloom looms all over his being. Whatever was left of the twinkle in his eyes has left, his smile falling into a flat line.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You say, refusing to look at him. You don't want to regret saying it. You didn't want to hurt him but you had to.

“y/n.” You don’t look. “y/n!” You face him, rendering yourself hopeless. He seizes your arm in a firm hold, his eyes burning into yours, “Stop acting tough because you don’t mean it. I know you better than that. Tell me again.”

Your frown recklessly tells him otherwise, not being able to get the words out.

“It doesn’t make it easier,” his hold lessens but his touch is still there, “saying you hate me won’t make me hate you. You’re obviously lying to make it easier. But it doesn’t make it any easier.” The hold reaches your hand, clutching it so he can bring it over his heart, “it hurts y/n. It hurts more.” He releases your hand, letting it fall. “Please just say you love me instead. Nothing could make this easier, the least you could do is be honest.“

“Your family has given me everything. The least I could do is owe them my life.”

“Then you owe me your life.” He takes your wrist, dragging you back into the place that was hell on earth.

Storming in, despite all your resistance, Jaemin is fed up. His family looks to him, extremely surprised that you two are back for a second round. The King especially looks at you with shame, calling dishonor from everyone you’ve ever known with just that one disgusted glance. 

“Father!” He brings you down with him frivolously hitting the cold tiled floor with your knees. The two of you bend down before the King. Jaemin’s head was bent so low it was touching the floor. He brings himself back to sit on his bended legs, joining you in this position. “Please let us find another way to bring unity.”

The King is merciless, “son I didn’t know you were this naive.” Jaemin’s eyes shake as the King proceeds, “marrying a princess is a privilege. This is the easiest way to make peace.”

“Do you not care about how I feel father? Am I nothing but I pawn in your game?”

“I do care son! I’m doing this for everyone’s benefit-- even yours! Bringing you back from delusions of being in love with this,” he glances over at you in distaste, “nobody.”

You guess you were never a mandatory after all.

“To make it even easier for you, I’ve moved the wedding even closer! Isn’t that wonderful!”

Jaemin is fuming. He looks at his own father like he wishes he was dead. He doesn’t say anything.

“Now we can push all this drama behind us very soon.” The King goes from standing to waltzing to his throne where his wife and first son sit idle and used to the maltreatment. Minutes pass of Jaemin sitting in his position. The King speaks up again, “if that was all you had to say you two can go, you won’t be able to see her soon anyways. You’re lucky I’m giving her until tonight for exile, unlike what I did to Jungwoo’s mistake.”

“One day,” Jaemin finally says, “give us one more day to spend together. A time span of one sunrise to the next full of freedom,” he lifts his head to meet the monster’s eyes, “please. This will be the last time I will ever ask for anything. Ever.” He’s sincere. Every word was carefully thought of. He begs.

“One day? Hmm let’s see,” the King doesn’t get up but only takes a second to come up with his answer, “well the princess won’t be able to arrive in twenty four hours… and since I’m as charitable as I am I will accept your negotiation. One day, until the sun rises into the next you two may do whatever you please. But Jaemin?”

“Yes father?”

“You disappoint me.”

You wanted to scream. The man who had turned the ballrooms into magic, the man who you have been protecting so genuinely, the man you owed your entire life to turned out to be nothing but a sadist bastard. 

You’ve left days pass by meaninglessly before; training by yourself in the field or standing idly on patrol for hours on end. Days come and go so quickly you’ve lost count of how many have passed. Whether it was spring, summer, winter, or fall, today will be the only day that exists to you. The only day where you believe will ever matter. Forever. And always. 

Jaemin met you midway. The sun slowly came up behind you as you ran downwards. You remember the way he held onto you. His arms were wrapping so extremely tight you didn’t know if you would burst. It was an embrace so warm you could feel the emotion pouring out. He took the hand which he held so tightly that night you met into the castle alongside him, walking a slow pace.  

“What shall we do today?” he had asked you.

“Be happy.”

Jaemin took you through every room and corridor. You remember thinking how silly he was acting, trying to exaggerate every reaction. Why did he do it? To make sure you remember? He pointed to statues, random walls where he had stubbed his toes at. Places he got in trouble, tripped, stumbled, laughed, cried. Everywhere. You weren’t sure why you needed to visit three powder rooms that were identical to one another. Looking back, you have the feeling it was to create a memory in that space. Jaemin wanted every room he ever walked in to remind him of you. 

“Do you like this door or that door better?” You asked him about two kitchen doors. One was sliding and the other could swing.

“Why do you ask?” He was ripping a piece of bread to hand to you, biting it as a snack.

“I want to talk about things that don’t matter with you.”

He understood what you meant. When you know every moment shouldn’t be taken for granted, it’s hard to go back. Hard to pretend you’re happy when you know exactly what comes next. He smiled at you then. Pretending not to know. Pretending not to worry about making every moment count. 

It happened too fast. By the time he took your hand again, the memories that you started to make had already mashed with one another. You don’t remember everything he said. You don’t even remember how many rooms you’ve passed. But you remember the garden.

The two of you sat at the gazebo. The exact same way you always do. He rubbed your knuckles. Memorizing the way each groove and crevice of your skin. He brought it to his lips, placing a sweet kiss at your ring finger.

“Want to hear something cool?” He says it in almost a whisper.

“Everything you say is cool- ow.” He squeezes your hand hard at the compliment. “Okay spill.”

“They say people die twice; one when their body perishes and the next is when someone remembers them last.”

“If that’s the case I guess I’ll live longer than I thought,” you laugh knowing well your colleagues and you never had much of a lifespan to begin with, “once when I lived next to you and once when I will only remain as a memory.” The both of you mutually agree. “Do you think it's better that we know today is our last?”

“Even if it wasn’t our last I would’ve lived everyday acting as if it was.”

His words made you swoon, a dusting of pink tickling the apples of your cheeks. He reached over to hold both of your hands, making sure you faced him fully.

“Let’s get married in this lifetime. I’ll give my best to you.”

Knock. Knock.

You enter the room without any word of confirmation. There was only half a day left, the patience game was the last thing you wanted to do. Standing at the center of his room was Prince Jungwoo. It was quiet, the timer in the sky beaming down at the two of you through his large window. Jaemin had told you to meet Jungwoo in his room. He told you he wanted to give you something. 

Prince Jungwoo had changed. Something about his aura changed years ago when you were still a knight in training. But you remembered seeing him at the hill late at night. He was crying. He cried so often you forget what he was like before that. Who he was before that.

He turns around.

“y/n.”

You’re about to speak but he motions for you to come closer with his hand to stand with him. 

“How do you feel?” his voice is softer than what you remember, almost like he was singing.

“Honestly?” you laugh, “I am drowning in utter sorrow.” 

You’re taken aback when hugs you. Patting you like a mother comforting her child. “Thank you for loving Jaemin and showing him what it feels like.”

You break apart from each other, “thank you for being understanding.”

“I won’t waste much of your time, you probably came here…” his voice trails off as he walks towards his closet to grab something. He grabs a large hat box, the edging scuffed and old. Returning back to you he hands it over, “for this.”

You look up at him timidly while he nods at you to open it. Inside was a folded white dress, still in pristine condition. 

“It was her dress,” his voice is calm and a little melancholy, “we planned to elope.” 

“I can’t take it, it’s her’s--”

“She never wore it. She will never wear it.” 

There’s a pause of recognition.

“What was she like?” you close the box, holding it with care. 

A ghost of a smile is seen at the corner of Jungwoo’s mouth. “She was everything a good person should be.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” 

His eyes cast downwards, “want to know a secret?” His breathing gets heavier the more he speaks, “she asked me to kill her before they did. She told me to put her out of her misery before anything happened and that the last person she wanted to see alive was me. I could’ve done something. I could’ve helped her escape. But until this day I still see her blood on my hands. And I will never forgive father for pretending it wasn’t me who did it.” 

It takes you a minute to process everything Jungwoo tells you. It was too overwhelming, and a feeling bubbles up in your throat when you try to swallow. But you don’t say anything. He needed to let it go. He needed to vent to someone who listened. It broke your heart. 

“That’s why,” he looks at you through teary eyes, “promise me you won’t ask the same to my brother. That you’ll live at least a little more. A little more so he could hope.”

You could only nod through tightened lips. 

He takes you into his arms again. In another life you wished they would see each other again. He wishes you knew how grateful he was for you. 

The path beneath you feels soft beneath your feet. You walk barefoot on the grass, the tall pieces tickling your ankles and calves. Above you glows the pink sky, clouds shrouding with different shades of yellow and blue, mixed in with random specks of purple. They reflect onto your dress, the most luxurious material you had ever come across laying against your body. Music plays in your head as you hum to yourself. You continue to walk up the hill, the sun slightly offset from the center. At the end of your path you are greeted by familiar faces looking at you with such loving gazes. 

The last person you see is Jaemin. Your eyes meet and it’s over. Jaemin can’t control himself, wiping away at his eyes frantically yet still trying to take in every second you walk towards him. You stand across from him, smiling brightly at each other. 

To your left is your best friend. Proposing that he was the officiant of your ceremony, Jeno reads from a scripture and has the two rings in his pocket. His voice is powerful and calming to listen to, but you zone out every so often to look at Jaemin. This moment is beautiful. This moment you feel alive. 

“You may now state your vows.” Jeno waves a hand for Jaemin to begin, taking the rings out to prepare them. 

Jaemin breathes in and exhales with a chuckle. You don’t know whether he wants to cry and laugh or everything at once. “I know that the line is supposed to be ‘till death do us part’ but not even death do us part y/n. Everything I do, everything I say-- I will always think of you. No second will pass where I ever forget I am in love with you. Thank you for saving my life in more ways than one. I don’t think I’ll ever be happier. In my next life I’ll make sure to be born as your lover again, and that we have no titles. No mandatory or elite duties. My duty to you is my heart.”

The air starts to feel stuffier, holding back a voice crack you sniffle. “Na Jaemin. Whether or not I forget your face. Whether or not I’ll forget the way you smiled or the way you held me. Whether I live or die, I will always know I love you.”

The rings are placed on both of your fingers, the bands etched with a small gladiolus flower. Leaning into each other, your kiss breaks all emotion, the hot tears stain both of your cheeks. The clapping from your colleagues fade away into the distance. The two of you hold each other, unable to part. 

Everyone present can feel your sorrow. 

You weren't sure what you were expecting entering Jaemin’s bedroom. He follows behind you, ready for you to unlock his chamber. Walking in you notice all the trinkets aligned on his shelves and bedside tables, some you recognize and others he’s probably had forever. To your right you notice the large darkly stained wooden desk, sanded down to create a beautiful glossy finish. You walk over, hearing Jaemin shut the door after you. 

Arranged on his desk is everything you've ever given him during your picnics; the original broken helmet, the dress shirt stained with blood-- everything. He’s kept them all. Even the stupid twig you gave him was wrapped with a delicate red ribbon. 

You pick it up, fonding over it, “you still have this stupid thing?”

“It’s your heart, remember? Of course I have it!” He says somewhere behind you. 

“So silly” you laugh, placing the twig back down carefully. As silly as it was, why were you crying? You’ve gotten emotional over a twig. His steps towards getting louder.

He rubs your shoulder to comfort you as you face the wall to recollect yourself. “Don’t cry on our wedding day,” he says jokingly.

“Haha very funny,” you wipe your tears with the sleeves of your dress. He turns you around by the shoulders, making sure he can see all of you. 

“Ogoo,” the way he looks at you is full of admiration, calling you lovely with his eyes filled with concern. He cradles you like a bear: warm and affectionate. He continues to rub the sides of your arms and your back, rocking you two like a canoe in still waters from side to side. He brings his hands from your shoulders to your ears, cupping them to press his lips to your forehead. You close your eyes as he moves from your forehead to both of your eyelids, softly brushing against your lashes. He peppers your cheeks with light pecks before heading over to the tip of your nose. He places his hands around your jaw, cupping your cheeks to bring them closer to him so he could plant a heartfelt kiss to your lips, lingering to savor the pent up emotions.

He parts from you, taking you all in. You bring the nape of his neck back to you, going in to kiss him again, impatient for the feeling. It’s brief but less careful, needy for more and more. Like opposite magnets who could only part for seconds before linking back together again, you kiss Jaemin like it's the only thing you know how to do.

He brings the hand at the nape of his neck to his lips, searching your eyes for a reaction.

“I don't want this night to just pass.” He tells you earnestly, asking for permission.

The hand he is holding grazes his cheek lightly before you capture his lips softly and with purpose once again. Breaking only to respond properly, you place your hands onto the chest of his suit. “I don’t want it to pass at all.” 

That was all you needed to say. His eyes shine with a passion and yearning only for you. Taking you again into his hands, his lips press into yours deeper; needing you, wanting you. Your lips slightly graze him when he moves his head back slowly to look at you. Jaemin loved looking at you as if you were the only thing that mattered.

He retraces where he left off, causing you to stumble back into a wall with the force of the kiss. Your heads move to synchronize with one another, the taste of his tongue addicting. The hands you’ve laid on his chest fiddle with his dress shirt to undo it, pressing it back to slide onto the floor, his arms leaving you for a brief second only to hold your waist in the next. He scrunches the fabric with his fingers, pulling you inhumanly close to him. He keeps kissing you, the fervor going from soft to longing as they increasingly become breathless and urgent. His hand slips from the gathered up fabric at your waist to under your thigh, the feeling of his hot hands against your skin giving you goosebumps. He brushes his hand against it, memorizing the feel of your soft skin before cupping it upwards to lift you. Your arms wrap around his neck as he leaves feathery kisses down your jaw and neck. Your legs are wrapped around his waist as he continues to tease the sensitive skin near your collarbone. His legs begin to move underneath you two, swiveling around to the large bed. Just like the one the first night the two of you slept together. There was another chance of sleeping in one after all. 

His hand goes from your thigh to the back of your head, laying you down, scared to break you. He still stands, looking at you. The beautiful rise and fall of your chest accompanied by the mess of your dress and hair has him go crazy, the desire to have you growing to the point his entire body feels tight. You watch him back; the two of you catching your breaths. Your eyes soften seeing his lips slightly swollen and face flushed, wondering if this will really be the last time. 

“Don’t look at me with those wistful eyes. I’ll start believing we are pitiful.” 

You give him a sad smile in return. 

We are pitiful.

He returns back to you, fingers tracing the sides of your thighs gingerly before lifting off your dress slowly, making sure you’re comfortable. The flicker of warm light from the candles near his bedside illuminates the outline of your bodies in the darkness of the night. The stars outside that usually brighten your cot seem to hide their glow, as if the stage of a play has ended long ago and the actors are desperately trying to keep the show going. 

Your hands glide down, removing his pants. He kicks them off the edge, leaving the two of you exposed apart from your underwear. He begins to lift his body so that he could look at you, but you take him back down to embrace him, flustered about your nakedness. He understands, raising his head a bit so that he is able to sweep the strands of hair on your face away softly, reassuring you with an earnest peck to your forehead. He begins peppering every surface of your skin presented to him, rubbing your thigh to comfort you in the process. He layers the kisses down, his eyelashes fluttering against your breast and stomach, meeting the strap of your lingerie. His eyes meet yours for a bit in certainty as he proceeds to roll them downwards and below your feet. He swiftly reaches your lips again, pressing a solemn promise onto them before heading back down to start sprinkling those promises onto your inner thighs. His mouth pulls away, causing your hips to move, wanting to be touched. His finger finds your bud, stroking it slowly watching your heat convulse at the new sensation. He gapes at it, watching it reveal itself like a rose in spring. He strokes the sides of your flower in curiosity, seeing it clench in desperation. He begins using multiple fingers to touch them as if they were delicate petals he was counting. He finds an opening, slowly inserting his finger to the first knuckle, letting you get used to the feeling as you squirm. He inches more in, bending his finger upwards into your walls, earning a moan of pleasure you did not know you were capable of producing. He repeats it again. And again. Feeling the way your insides pull. 

He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. He pulls away his finger, curious about the liquid spreading from within your thighs that has wrapped around it. He looks once again, his eyes glazing in yearning for the sap that trickles down your folds like a sweet tree. He takes his finger in his mouth, popping it out clean. With both hands he cups your bosom, squeezing it gently which causes more to fall out of you. He brings it upwards, high off the initial taste. Using his tongue he flicks your precious bundle of nerves rapidly, stimulating it. He brings his mouth down and plants an open mouthed kiss to your hole. He wants more. He delves deep inside you, using his tongue to press against you to gulp your glorified juice down his throat. He grips your thighs even harder, panting into you, the hot breath and movements making you whine his name. Your eyes roll back when he presses your bud down like a button and you dispense your sweetness onto him. He goes back to sucking you dry, allowing you to go over the moon with delight. 

Releasing you to breathe, he lets go of your body. You stare at him in awe; your nectar all over him-- lips, chin, neck, chest, like he’s been eating peaches and the juice has stained him. You rise to meet him on your knees, wrapping your arms around him in embrace, the feeling of your breast pressed against him euphoric. You kiss him clumsily but he welcomes you, tasting what was left of yourself on him. Your hands travel upwards from his broad back to his hair, messing it up even more. Rotating him over, you push him back against the headboard with your body, intoxicating him with everything you do. For a moment, the two of you see each other again face to face.

“You’re so beautiful.” Jaemin says without a second thought, the words coming from his heart. You keep glancing from his underpants to his eyes, pushing them down until his member is presented to you, hard and firm. 

His hands run through your hair, holding it up as you get a closer look at his erection. Taking hold of it, your fingers graze over the tip, applying pressure as you wipe downwards. You’re experimenting, rubbing at his arousal. 

“Do you like it here?” You massage into the tip and shaft with your fingers split apart, hoping the experience is enjoyable. “Is this okay?”

“Yea…” his voice has deepened, the lust lost amongst the love, purring at your touch. His precum leaks, coating your hand and length. He grabs at your hand to guide it gently, adding more pressure than you had originally been using. His hand atop of yours is warm, the contrast of his cold ring awakening a hungry desire in you. His penis grows extremely hot under your palm’s strokes directed by him. The feeling is exhilarating, causing him to grind uncontrollably. Not being able to contain yourself you shake off his hand, feverishly going down to lick his tip, eventually leaving stripes down the entirety of his sex quick and starved. His hips buck upwards, not able to get enough of your movements, his nerves electrified. You press hard at his hips so they stay down, allowing you to suck at his sensitive tip. He grunts when you swirl your tongue with it in your mouth, lapping over over and over like a lollipop. You drop your head, and in the heat of the moment Jaemin tugs on your hair in his fists, quickly releasing.

“Did it hurt?” He is barely able to say with the feeling of you squeezing at his member with the concave of your mouth. Your saliva leaves a trail as you bring your head back up with a pop, you hastily grab his hand again to instruct it to yank at your hair again. He catches on quickly, taking your head in his hands and controlling the pace of your head bobbing with caution to ensure he doesn’t hurt you. He’s incredibly vocal, constantly praising how good you feel and how well you’re doing in between pants. Hurriedly, feeling himself get near, he pulls your face up, slamming his lips into yours, his hands meeting your jaw to cup your face. Both of your eyes are shut tightly to take in the sultry sweet taste all over your mouths as he cums underneath. 

Jaemin can’t stop kissing you. He touches you everywhere, unable to stop. You’re an addiction. This time you press a kiss to his forehead as he sucks the area that connects your neck and jaw, painting your skin with a swollen red color. 

He holds your weight up after you scoot over him to hover around his stick. With breathy “awh”s being drawn out by the two of you he sets you down until you’re settled in. You clench around the feeling, adjusting to the girth. It just feels so fucking good, his eyes almost go white with you engrossing him. It was a perfect fit, as if you two were spun by the hands of a God to interlock together. Made for one another.

His hands grip at your waist, controlling the fluctuation of your hips rocking on him. You quicken the pace, wanting to feel it rougher against you. He’s quick to adjust, matching you with the speed of his thrusts, pushing you down so you feel everything. He wants to hit your sweet spot in a better angle, wanting to crash into you at full force. He pulls your leg over him, flipping you around and plunging you into the bed. He repositions himself, guiding his moist member against your folds, his hand trembling from the intense arousal. He rams into you, causing you to scream in an overwhelming delight. And again. And again. Your fingers interlock with his as he continues to plunge recklessly into you, aiming to push you over the edge in ecstasy. But then, he slows down earning a longing whine from you. You open your eyes to see his face above yours. 

“I love you.”

The significance of the three words throw you off. You’re overcome with multiple emotions all at once. The phrase stabs you. It hurts so bad. Squeezing his hand tightly in yours until your knuckles go white you don’t even realize that you’re crying. You wish you weren’t crying but you couldn’t help it. Your vision goes blurry.

He stops immediately, his hands finding your shoulders in a panic, “What’s wrong? Does it hurt? Did I hurt you? Should we stop?” 

“I love you too.”

He completely understands now. This time, he feels it. All at once it creates something so powerful inside him it causes him to pour hot tears. They hit your cheeks fast, unsure of which one was yours and which ones were his-- as if it mattered. He goes back to interlock fingers with you, placing blurry kisses where the tears have stained. 

Once again, he thrusts into you. Each one filled to the brim with emotions unexplainable. He keeps going until both of you climax, finishing off with an embrace. Suffocating you with his love, you reciprocate his hug. His head finds the nook of your neck, entangling himself into you. Staying still. 

Jaemin’s large blanket is wrapped around the two of you snugly, your bodies molded into each other. The heat of your bodies and everything left unsaid keeps you two up. He makes sure he can feel you at all times, staring at your angelic face from time to time. You hold hands under the covers-- holding onto anything at all. 

Why did the sun reflect the moon? Why couldn’t the moon stand on its own? Have its own light? You hated the sun. You hated that it rose. You hated how it peaked meaninglessly and provoked you. You hated it so much you cried.

Jaemin wipes your tears with his thumb as they roll down. You hold his bodice closer to you, cramming your face back into his chest to prevent yourself from seeing the light.

“Look at me.”

You raise your head back up to see his face. Suddenly all the times you’ve seen it flash before you. Will you forget each time one by one until only this one is left? And once this time is gone, what will you do then?

“I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. After we have the union I'll run away to find you, do anything to be with you, I'll come to you running. Wait for me, I’ll be there.” he’s choking up so much, “we will see each other just in a couple years, and you’ll stun me just like you did the first time we met and then we will live out in the hills and raise children in a cottage-- they’ll have your eyes and my smile, we’ll be living a simple life, just us.”

It was ironic that the light dimming or the darkness wasn’t what brought you sadness, it was the fact that you didn’t want to see the sun. Where was the bathtub that stopped time and gave you control? But even if time stopped nothing would change. How you felt wouldn’t change, nor how Jaemin felt, nor the punishment for trying to change your fate. They gave you another chance to live once again. A life you didn’t ask for. Life over love. Obligation over happiness. It will always be like this. Your body is theirs. Suddenly you felt regret. Not for falling in love, but for not falling in love deeper. For not cherishing the time, not saying it sooner. Jaemin’s words only sadden you. Under those words of love came the truth; that it was only false hope. 

“When I see you again,” he takes your hands to kiss them, droplets wetting them as he reassures you. He’s reassuring himself, “everything will be alright.”

You wish you could make out words but something terribly heavy presses down on your heart so only sobs come out. He brings your hands to his chest, laying them over the rapid beat.

“Wherever you are, you’ll always have my heart.”

a/n: i apologize for the crazy delay; i was unsatisfied with the initial draft i was going to post and rewrote everything about 7 times ahh. i didn't want to post something i was not happy with, and felt guilty about not posting anything so i told myself i wouldn't check tumblr/socials until i finished. (missed out on a lot!!) special thank u to @du0tine who motivated me throughout the entire process and when i doubted myself, ilysm. shoutout to these peeps who inspired me and were really nice while i was away! @heavenlyhuangs @flirtyhyuck @florence-cvrt @jungsin @honeymilkeu @hyucksong  @vegetablepacket @n-esn @insomni-writing​ @amaixiaojun​ @fightmegirl​ *insert entire followers and mutuals list* + my bruv it meant so much <3 hope the finished product was worth the read! i poured my entire soul into this man :,) 

©︎ RENDEZVOUSRENJUN

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[whereflowersbloom]

Meet me at the horizon

Damian has spent nearly three hours inside the meeting room of one of the biggest companies of the Eastern Coast, Wayne Enterprises, the silence was strong after several hours discussing the approval of new projects, majority of them Proposed by Timothy Drake. Tim was a genius in Computer Engineering and Technologies, currently working with Lucious Fox. He just graduated and was already making money developing enterprise digital assistance apps and what not for the company. Unfortunately the silence lasted less than two deep breaths as the board directors, shareholders, his siblings and even his own father were exchanging goodbyes and handshakes, scheduling the next meeting already. His father had promised to take Helena shopping with Selina. His adoptive siblings stayed in the meeting room, deciding to have a much-deserved break, to catch up with their daily activities.

Damian frowned unconsciously, his head was throbbing with the surge of scenes in his head. The scenes he was so used to see in his dreams for the last nine months, but the last three months have been assaulting him any moment of the day, especially close to his eldest brother Richard. The meeting seemed to have opened a door to these dreams and this talk about opening an office in Jump city was making it worse. Jump City. He had the vague sensation he’d been there before...

Tim, Richard and Duke seemed to be too busy speaking about the next big game of Gotham Knights, the hockey team, to notice his troubled expression. They mumbled something about asking Jason to slow down from his intense sportbike racer life and watch the game all together. Damian didn’t bother listening to the rest, he was attacked by images of that younger version of himself in some kind of flashy vigilante costume fighting criminals.

“We should go to the game this weekend. The girl I’m seeing now, Kori said she was interested in learning about traditional sports. She’s been in Gotham for six months now. She’s very enthusiastic about cultural learning.” Richard suggested with a wide smile to his siblings completely excited. Eyes like wildfire lit with the spark of life. He hadn’t met Dick’s girlfriend but he looked happier than he’s ever seen him in years.

“Are you joining, D or you’ve got a date?” Duke asked with a teasing tone in his sardonic voice.

Damian did not retribute the smile his adoptive brother gave him, trying to mask his still throbbing head. He looked at him, threatening gaze was a subtle warning. He didn’t know why this was happening that day, but the talk about Jump City and Dick’s new girlfriend were just bringing more of those images. Most of them weren’t good ones. Gory, brutal, bloody. He liked more the ones that seemed to joyful. The ones with that girl.

“He barely seem to have time to meet someone. He’s a workaholic.” it was Tim who answered with an amused smile on his lips, masking an exhausted mien.

“At this pace he’s close enough to become a celibate monk.” Duke joked elbowing Tim lightly, who laughed in response.

“I tried to set him up with some girls, but I almost end up with a broken jaw.” Dick shrugged slightly as he told them with details how Damian had turned down Kara Danvers, Tim’s girlfriend’s best friend. Admittedly she was a nice-looking woman but not the one he desired.

Damian decided to ignore the moronic comments about his love life from his siblings.

Storming out of the meeting room without uttering a single word. They knew nothing about his romantic life. Tsk. A breath of fresh is what he required, lost in consuming thoughts about the girl.

People form the company knew him as the extremely professional boss that run his department with an almost iron fist, he was fair though, accepting the situation of people that worked under him, but he didn’t accept people trying to take advantages or lacking in his services. And he was indeed workaholic.

The media knew him as the ‘Ice Prince of Gotham’, the young heir that was always looking serious, with a cold aura around him, with no type of relationships or scandals so far. He didn’t have the bad boy aura like Jason, ‘chicks’ seemed to dig it as Duke would crudely express. He appeared distant of people out of his inner circle. However, women followed him like bees to flowers in order to collect nectar.

It was just his Wayne charm he couldn’t turn off, regardless of the situation. Like his father, Damian just attracted female attention like a magnet. But no girlfriend. He's had the odd fling here and there but nobody has ever really caught his eye and he's incredibly busy he hasn't the time to feel that maybe he's missing out. Until he saw her.

All his time, attention and passion have been poured into his work. Not that he loved it exactly but he's never been one to do things by halves. Of course he made time to spend quality time with his family, after all, little Helena was barely ten years old. Perky and tireless, too smart for her age if he added. EHis youngest sister.

He was also known in the sports world as one of the most skilled people on the art of the traditional sword fighting and martial arts. He didn’t know where this passion for sword fighting began, although he would bet all his money that it had something to do with his strange recurrent dreams.

 Although his life was satisfactory in his personal view, he always felt as if something was missing. He felt as lonely as the teenager in his dreams when the girl was not around him. She was missing.

Why this bothered him so much, he couldn’t find a logical reason that made any sense. It was just a simple dream, and that girl wasn’t much more than that. A dream. But why he felt that way? That need to look around every time he was in a place full of people hoping to get a glimpse of those shinning amethyst eyes looking at him like she did in his dreams with such profound emotion. Or his necessity to look for her around the world as if he was sure he could find her. She was etched in his bones, buried in down his bronze skin, burning in his chest leaving him out of breath. The images were flooding his mind again. More than absurd dreams, they were a recollection of memories...from a different lifetime perhaps.

They had something briefly, he gathered from the persistent dreams. It was intense, passionate. It was only something he could describe as love. But suddenly they parted ways, forced to be away from the other. They lost contact. The images were so vivid. They felt so real. A first last kiss filled with sorrow, powerlessness, genuine affection. It was carved into his mind until he memorized it. That moment. The warmth and scent of her breath put him in an hypnotic daze. Her lips parted softly, and he could taste faint traces salt from her tears when her soft lips pressed against his. He could feel lightning coursing through his veins, as if his entire world had been set ablaze only lasting seconds. Then it was gone. The ghost of a promise of a second chance. He’d grown tired of waiting for her to appear before his eyes. Every damn second felt like an eternity in itself. With every passing moment, his patience waned a little more and his heart sank a little further.

The haunting pain, endless longing, fear of losing her, the regret of leaving her behind first. They were all real. It was a silent torture.

At first, foolishly he believed these feelings would eventually fade and he would no longer be haunted by her phantom presence. Only memories he thought as he closed his emerald eyes. And her pale, heart-shaped, beautiful face flitted across his mind. Damian had spent his entire life being in control. But every time he met her in his dreams, he seemed to lose his grasp on his emotions, his life, and sometimes, even his destiny. He had to find her.

The wind howling through halls of old memories, piercing through solitude, skin and bone until there’s nothing but heavy emotions and melancholy. Walking with a heart that’s taken too many hits, never too fragile but refusing to be held in the hands of another’s that don’t belong to hers. In his chest remained an ache, a longing for what was or could have been. What he let slip.

“I am sorry we did not have time, Raven.” He mumbled almost in a whisper to nothingness. It felt like a heartfelt apology a thousand years too late. Maybe more or less. A lifetime too late. If their hearts and destiny were entwined surely they would find their back to each other no matter what. Damian carried that hope in his heart, always his constant companion. If He were to walk to the ends of the earth and waited for her on the horizon after the sun has set, would she be there? At the point where the land and sky meets. Could they be together once again?

Raven. The girl. He thought of her during the long hours between dusk and dawn, as he ate dinner alone or read next to the window. She was an ever present fixture in his mind and never more so than today. He considered what he might say to her once he found her, but what rational excuse could he offer to a stranger? He doubted she would find comfort in the ridiculous phrases he might string together about meeting in a past lifetime or those dreams. What if she had them too? If it wasn’t some breathtakingly realistic illusion and she was so where in this city or Jump City or anywhere else looking for him. It was silly to entertain such notions, he knew it well. But that didn’t stop his mind from wandering from time to time when he found a poignant passage of poetry that tugged at his heart, or a new book that fascinated him. She loved books how he knew that, he was not sure. What he wouldn’t give to have long days spent indulging their mutual passion for literature, poetry, history and ancient languages.

He’s been walking around for longer than he imagined, looking at his watch it’s last 6:00 pm. It was out of instinct or some magnetic pull forcing his body to look at the flower shop, whatever universal spirit or energy did it. He was thankful. The shop was tiny, a sliver of space between a cafe and bookstore, and would have disappeared into the surrounding stone and woodwork had it not been for the white and lavender exterior. Eyes quickly scanning surroundings. It was exquisite and untamed, thorny blackberry brambles mingle with fresh citrusy kumquats wrapped languidly around overhanging light fixtures for a wild, yet utterly magnificent and unique look. It had a three-panel glass window boasting an avant-garde display of blush dahlias, blizzard hydrangeas, soft purple lilacs, a mixture of green stems and leaves that balanced everything out. He had been here before but never spotted the shop. The shop was definitely new and if Damian hadn’t known this neighborhood so well, the faint smell of fresh paint would have given it away.

Her hair was a deep navy blue sprinkled with white, like starlight in winter. Her heart-shaped had matured beautifully, moonlight skin. She was a flashing star born with striking surreal violet orbs. She was holding astilbe flowers in white and soft pink. She set the flowers on the counter carefully, her fingers hovering in the space around them, like she wanted to guard them, to protect every petal from the possibility of being crushed. As if they were more than blooms of colour, like there were uniquely cherishable aspects to each one that is not present in the next. He could see that type of caring in her. This was his Raven. This can’t be real, Right? The world wouldn’t be this cruel to him, playing mind tricks on him. She was here. O

Damian thought of every slow-motion, heart-stopping, head-spinning scene in every romance movie or show or novel and how he’d always assumed they were stupid, nothing but rubbish. But here he was standing astonished literally staring at the woman of his dreams. Speak with her. Just hear her low and calming voice. That was all his mind would permit him to focus on, the single-minded determination to see her again.

He moved with driving purpose, his legs propelling him to go inside the little store and tell her everything about his dreams, recollection of old memories. The thought crossed his mind so briefly he scarcely dwelt on it, but that was how it had been for him in the months since dreaming of Raven. His pace slowed as he was stopped by the entrance door, opening it slowly, willing his heart to steady the gallop rhythm of its beats. The sun was shining brightly through the shop’s windows, soft classical music played through the serene and scented atmosphere.

The anticipation rushing through his veins felt like burning his tongue on Earl Grey too hot-tea a chilly rainy day, a dry mouth after sleepless night tossing and turning because other side of his bed looked too empty, trees in the park swayed and shuddered by the afternoon air before lighting fractures the sky and shakes earth, like he’s been waiting a million of breaths for this moment. In his twenty-one years of existence never experienced this wild and frantic emotion.

He swallowed around a very dry throat when he let the door swing shut behind him as his short, hesitant strides brought him directly up to the counter. Now they were face to face. Mustering the courage to say anything. Anything that dint make her think he was insane. But when his gaze met hers. Damian found himself awe-struck by the intensity behind familiar amethyst eyes. The stars couldn’t compare. The world and moon would crumble away. The sun would collapse into itself at this dazzling and glorious constellation that she was. Lilac pools hiding something mystic and ancient in their depth.

She leaned in closer to him in such a natural way, raising her head just to meet his. Her smile was sincere and expectant, pupils blown wide, but they’re focused, dark and determined, nearly drowning out the violet glint of her irises. His lips ached to reach for hers in a hungry kiss but refrained. Speechless, heart pounding in chest, peculiar fluttering sensation in his stomach, waiting for her to speak. Finally she took a deep and long breath before whispering. “Hello Damian. It’s been quite a long time.”

I rewrote this and hope you all like it. I can’t find it in me to update stories right now but have this short prompt. Specially written for @chromium7sky @ravenfan1242 @xaphrin @alerialblu @niahti and all my friends and readers. I’m so sorry some of you have been getting hate but we stand strong and together. 💜❤️❤️🥺🥺

@deep-in-mind67 @kallura-juniblade @bourniebna @timid-soot-sprite @deepbreadlover @tweepunkgrl @srose-foxfire

#damirae #demon birds #damian wayne #raven roth #teen titans #dick grayson #tim drake #duke thomas #stephanie brown #koriand'r #bruce wayne #selina kyle #helena wayne #timsteph #brucelina #robrae #dickory #dc fandom #dc universe #alternate universe #batfamily

[feverinfeveroutfic]

caffeine (a one shot)

i wrote this in like an hour last night—a little something to help me feel better about myself. or did it?

***big fat smut warning 

Of all the students in the class, he was the obviously eldest one. He had shed most of his long luxurious curls in favor of fluffy tufts down to his shoulders, and yet his hair seemed to float all around his head as if it had a mind of its own, complete with the shock of gray at the crown of his head. A certain softness to his body as well, a tall long drink of water cradled by the silken feeling of a few extra pounds on his waist to fill him out a bit. His skin as smooth and silken as porcelain, and his eyes as blue as the New York sky at springtime. Still a young man, but age already began to settle within his bones and his body.

The old man of the bunch, given everyone else in there was fresh out of high school; she knew she was about to near him in age, but she had already begun the process of bringing her life together. 

And yet she couldn’t stop taking a glimpse over at him.

Fresh and new as he hailed from the golden sunlight of California, he always sat close to the front of the class and he held onto every word. He wanted to be there. He wanted to be there as much as her. Two seats away and yet she yearned to be closer to him when the moment bode well. 

She nudged up her horn-rimmed glasses and returned to the notebook before her. Copious notes in the wake of her writing her name next to that of her boyfriend.

Such was the life of the music theory student. The classics in the very beginning to the mid-century behind them. One would tell her that it was still very much the Nineties and she should enjoy herself for the time being before everything fell come year zero, but she knew she would go out with a bang if this proved to be the case. She, too, wanted to be there, and come the middle of the term and the realization that New Year’s 1999 was on their doorstep, she took the seat right next to him at the front. He showed her a sweet, almost Mona Lisa type smile when she plunked down there with her arm full of her textbook and two notebooks.

He became the part-time aide that day. The one with the red pen ready to do the filthy deeds of their professor when he wasn’t looking: he held the pen in his lanky fingers as if it was ergonomically designed to be a part of his hand.

She spotted the calluses on his fingertips, prominent and yet blended into his skin as if they had officially become part of his fingers.

“You’re a, uh—a guitar player,” she declared.

“I am!” His eyes sparkled when he said that. “I’m here to help myself, actually. The other alternative is losing my mind.”

“The mind is a terrible thing to waste,” she pointed out.

“The heart is, too,” he added. His deep eyes caressed over the sight of the little heart on the cover of her notebook. Before she could get a word in, however, the clock struck the top of the hour.

Where ninety minutes usually breezed by, this session slowed down to a monolithic crawl. Every so often, she took a glimpse over at him and the side of his face. That prominent aquiline nose with the full, almost bulbous tip fit his little lips and the depth of his eyes.

How she wished for drawing skills. She would never want to stop drawing him and that profile.

She would never stop, no matter what her boyfriend said to her. Something so hypnotic about him. Hypnotic and raw, and yet so gentle and soft. The old man of the group, complete with the streak upon his head to exemplify it, but he was still quite the boy at the same time.

Once the ninety minutes dissipated into eighty-five, she closed her book and stood up first. She put her sweater back on but once she slid the sleeve over her left arm, her hand knocked her things off of the top of the desk.

“Oh, jeez, I’m sorry,” she sputtered, even though he clambered to his feet and helped her out.

“Oh, no, it’s okay!” he assured her. “Accidents happen. At least it was just books.”

She tugged her sweater on all the way and she ducked down to help him. But he handed her the book followed by her notebook. The wistful look on his face told her that he had locked onto that heart for some time at that point.

“I’m such a nerd,” she scoffed at herself, to which she shook her head.

“It’s okay,” he assured her, “I’m a nerd myself.”

They both stood upright as everyone else filed out of the large classroom. He slung his heavy black canvas book bag over his shoulder, and all the while he showed her that little Mona Lisa smile again, and the corners of his eyes crinkled up with it.

“Would you like to grab some coffee?” he offered her in a soft voice. “I have a couple hours before my writing class and then I go home.”

“Um, sure?” She nudged up her glasses.

“Unless, you know—“ His eyes flitted down to the notebook cover.

“Oh, no, he’s out of town right now. I’m—kind of by myself right now. I’d like to do that.”

Without another word, they rounded out the back of the crowd and strode on out of there together to the brightly lit hallway. She kept her eye on his hair as they walked together to the stairwell; his long elegant legs had a lot of power to them, she could tell. But he stood there at the top of the stairs in anticipation of her. She bowed her head and strolled up next to him.

The two of them walked down the stairs together to the coffee shop in the student union. Next to the front door of the shop stood a narrow nook and a little broom closet.

She asked for a chai latte where he had a big cup of espresso: she considered getting herself a muffin but she settled on the cup before her.

“So how old are you?” he asked her: he had a big, almost cartoonish voice, such that it took her off guard once they were out of the classroom. Add to this, he spoke out of the left side of his mouth as if he was up to some mischief, and yet there was something so endearing about him.

“I’m twenty-five,” she replied. “Bit of a late bloomer but I was holding out for the best school, though.”

“Oh, I hear you. I was straight out of high school when life happened. I turned thirty back in late September and I just want to keep on learning things. I’m literally scared to stagnate.” He took a big hearty sip of espresso, to which he closed his eyes.

“What’s the story behind the streak?” she asked him with a gesture to his head.

“No idea. I’ve had it since I was a kid, and I’ve heard people say it’s a birthmark or it’s a mutation or a scar because I hit my head there before. But—“ He shrugged. “—who knows, really.”

“What’s it like being aide?”

“It’s not bad,” he replied, “kind of grunt work, kind of necessary… someone’s got to do it.”

“Do you ever get so overwhelmed by it all?” she asked him.

“Oh, yeah. Hence the espresso!”

Sinead O’Connor crooned over the speaker above their heads.

“‘Nothing Compares’,” he breathed out before he took another sip of espresso.

“Prince wrote this, didn’t he?” And he nodded at that.

“God, if only I was as hot as Prince,” he joked.

“What if I told you that you are hot,” she confessed to him. He raised his eyebrows at her and his deep eyes brightened. She had blurted it out, for sure, but there was no denying it. She had kept her eyes locked onto him for half of the term plus another whole ninety minutes right next to him. He kept the cup of coffee before his face so she could only see the shape of his lips and the tip of his nose.

“You know, I am a lead guitarist,” he told her, that time in a low voice. “A lead guitarist for a metal band for years. You know how leads are often seen.”

She nudged her glasses down her nose so he could better see into them.

“The center of attention,” she remarked, and she ran her tongue along her top row of teeth.

“Not necessarily. We are when we want to be.” He sipped on his espresso some more and then he ran his fingers through his hair, and showed her the inside of his neck. His Adam’s apple was prominent and smooth with his milky skin. His eyes hooded and his lips a touch more red, he turned to her.

“Do me a solid,” he started, “finish that chai and follow me around the corner here to that nook we walked by.”

“Did you finish your espresso?” she quipped back at him, as she tipped her cup into her lips.

“I’m about to,” he said, and he took a sip as well. “By the way, did you know that coffee is an aphrodisiac?”

“Coffee and chai tea, too,” she added.

They downed their coffee at the same time and then she dodged out of there first.

“Don’t make me chase you—“ was what she heard from him upon her reaching the entrance.

The rush of the caffeine combined with the pressures of school, being alone for a time, and the impending switch over to a whole new millennium in a touch more than a year made her heart pound. She held her books to her chest as she reached the end of the brightly lit hallway, to the nook that awaited them, and the tiny closet right across from her. He skidded before her and he set his book bag down on the floor by the closet door. She leaned her books next to it. A narrow hallway nonetheless, they were tucked away from the world and the rest of the school.

“Kiss me,” she begged from him. She put a hand on his chest, warm and smooth and deep with the heart within him. Her fingers caressed him down to his full waist, even warmer and smoother than any pillow she had ever lay down on before. He put his lanky sinewy arms around her and he held his face closer to her. The pale fluorescent light over their heads allowed her to look right into those soulful, shadowy baby blues.

“You are shy and sweet,” he told her. “And yet I want you.”

They locked lips and he slithered his tongue into her mouth. The taste of espresso fused with the warmth and seduction of the California sun. The taste of freedom.

Her hands grazed over the curvature of his back towards his shapely hips. He moved back a bit to treat her to a series of gentle groans from the back of his throat. He then reached down and undid his jeans. She reached down to feel him, from his chest down to his belly once again.

“Lower—“ he whispered; his voice was husky and soft, as husky as she could ever imagine. Her fingers caressed the softest, fullest part of his waist, and she knew he liked that: the Mona Lisa smile twisted and quivered into a raw sensation.

“Lower, please,” he pleaded in a hushed whimper. She reached down his jeans and down the front of his underwear. His skin was soft and silky. Her fingers stroked over his length, such that his lips trembled and his body shook.

With her free hand, she took off her glasses so he could look into her eyes. Disoriented and quickly at the top, his knees buckled. He held his head to her belly. She undid her jeans as well so he could have a taste of the sugar. He squirmed and struggled to climb back up to his feet so she could fondle him again, but she set a hand on his shoulder.

“Be a good boy,” she sputtered out to him, and she held his head closer to her thighs. “Have a taste like you’re licking a lollipop.”

His fingers quivered but he peeled back her panties. He closed his eyes and moved his tongue in between her legs. She clenched her teeth and tilted her head back, and left her mouth agape. His tongue slithered about like the body of a snake. The noise of the student union blanketed over their own noise.

A silent cry escaped her lips and he lifted his head.

“Do you do this with your boyfriend at all?” he asked her.

“I don’t,” she confessed, out of breath. He rested his head against her waist and let out a low whistle.

“I’m going to want more sugar and cream in my espresso from now on,” he groaned in a broken voice.

“And I’m going to want more espresso,” she treated him to a little laugh.

“You mustn’t—please,” he begged her. “Don’t tell a soul about you and I.”

“Never,” she vowed. “Would you like some help off of the floor?”

“Please.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #testament fanfic #ao3 fanfic #alex skolnick #alex skolnick x oc #oc tag #smut warning #smut #one shot #writing #text

[gardenofdelight]

Forget Me Not

Sir Vergil goes on a quest to find a flower of legend for his beloved lady.

Here’s my drabble for DMC OC Week Day 3: Alternate Universe/Past & Future! Hope you enjoy this Medieval AU! 😘

Many knights of old have gone down in history for their heroic deeds and dangerous quests. The most memorable knight in this land is Sparda, the Legendary Dark Knight, and his eldest son lives up to the legacy of his father with his feats of valor. 

Tales of Sir Vergil’s bravery has earned him the respect of the peerage, but the same cannot be said for him. Most of the nobles seem like sniveling fools to him, only caring about their own wealth and the comforts it affords. Many of them have approached him with some frivolous quests unbefitting of a knight of his caliber...but only one managed to convince him with her infuriating persistence. 

Lady Lisandra stood out from the rest of the peerage; she talked not of wealth, but the world beyond and its undiscovered mysteries as well as the joys of literature. And she forgoes the propriety of a noble lady, preferring to wear a circlet of flowers instead of jewels around her head and never addressing him as someone of a lower station. Her lack of good manners and refinement irked the judgmental knight, but he cannot deny that he enjoys her company; it’s a pleasant respite from insipid chatter of the peerage, which is why he eventually accepted her impassioned request to find a legendary flower. 

Sir Vergil expected to go on this simple quest alone...but he found Lady Lisandra waiting by his trusty steed. And after a quick exchange of concerned and exasperated words, he vowed to protect her from any harm that might befall her before setting off into the misty morn. The Lady insisted on riding with him, claiming they would cover more ground if she sat astride his steed behind him. It’s unheard of for a lady to ride in such a manner, but he relented since he did not want her falling behind on a much slower steed. 

They rode for hours, only stopping to forage for food in various fields and forests. The Lady’s knowledge of nature impressed the stoic knight as she picked berries and edible flowers. And her beauty among the rustic country is utterly hypnotizing; he already admired her delicate features during their many conversations, but her rose red hair shining in the sun and her olive-green eyes sparkling with wonder...he couldn’t help but to compare her loveliness to the ethereal splendor of an exquisite rose blooming in an untamed wilderness.   

Stay focused! he chided himself as they set out once more. Thou art on a quest, not courting a lady well above your station! 

Sir Vergil spurred his steed to make haste until well past noon. The Lady gasped as he came to halt at a promising field of flourish flowers.                

“Alas, we’ve come upon a wild green yonder!” she exclaimed in delight as he dismounted his steed. “Surely there must be a flower of legend here, Vergil!”

“Wouldst thou kindly address me formally for once?” he inquired, barely containing the irritability in his voice while reaching up to assist her.

Lady Lisandra leans down with an impish smile. “Only if thee loses the glower and smells the flowers!”

Sir Vergil scoffs as he lifts her up off his steed. “Why must the Lady irritate me so?” he wondered aloud while setting her down gently on the ground.  

“‘Tis the only way to motivate my knight for the quest before us,” she replied with a teasing twinkle in her eyes. “Now, come! Let us search by the river first!” 

The Lady gathers up her dress before sprinting off without a care in the world. Sir Vergil’s grumbling rebuke about running ahead without a proper escort makes her laugh as she frolics through the vibrant wildflowers. She had hoped this quest would help him open up a little, maybe even see him smile now that they are far away from the rabble of the peerage...but the stern frown and critical brow upon his handsome face seems to be permanent. 

Sir Vergil may be an intimidating knight with a renowned reputation, but she has seen a glimpse of the passionate soul behind his austere facade. And perhaps finding a rare flower of legend will have the power to grant her wish of seeing an adoring smile grace his lips.

They looked around while walking along the bank of the river at a safe distance. Lady Lisandra picked a few flowers as Sir Vergil remained ever vigilant by her side. And although every bloom was beautiful in their own way...they weren’t the most remarkable either. So, they continued their search until coming upon a peculiar spray of flowers dangerously close to the river.

“‘Tis there! Oh, how lovely!” she gasped as their pale blue petals beckoned her to come closer with a gentle sway in the breeze. 

Sir Vergil halted her approach with a protective arm around her waist. “‘Tis much too dangerous for a lady to be near a roaring river.”  

Lady Lisandra looked up at her knight with pleading eyes. “If I cannot pick the flower we seek, then perhaps thee will?”

“Only if the Lady keeps thy distance whilst I retrieve them,” he offered while directing her well away from the river.  

The Lady nodded and clutched the bouquet of wildflowers close to her chest as Sir Vergil approached the river. Then, he kneeled down and began picking the delicate flowers with utmost care. He noted that they were the only blue blooms in the field, so small yet extraordinary among its fellow flowers.

These could very well be flowers of legend, he surmised while his heart raced with the thought of bestowing these wondrous blooms to Lady Lisandra. 

All seemed well as he rose from the ground, but a stray rock knocked him off balance as he turned back towards the Lady. Her cry of distress echoed through the field as he fell into the river, instantly sinking under the weight of his own armor. He struggled to stay afloat, but it was useless; he knew this river would be his watery grave. But his honor as a knight urged him to throw the legendary flowers to the Lady, completing his quest while shouting his final words before succumbing to his inevitable death. 

“Forget me not!”

Lady Lisandra rushed towards the river, ignoring the beautiful blue blooms scattered on the ground as she searched for her knight in the water. I need to save him! she thought as soon as she spotted him. But how? He’s too heavy for me to lift so long as his armor is- Her eyes widened as she remembered the dagger in Sir Vergil’s boot. 

That’s it! she decided while untying her dress before stripping down to her undergarments. Then, she dived into the river without a second thought, quickly swimming down towards the knight who was staring up at her in awe. She grabbed the dagger hidden in his boot and began cutting the straps of his armor, pushing each piece out the way until he was light enough to carry. Her lungs burned with the need to breathe as she picked up his sword before lifting him back up to the surface.    

Lady Lisandra gasped for air while swimming back to the riverbank with her knight in tow. Her arms shake weakly as she drags him out before laying him among the legendary flowers. “Please...thou must breathe!” she whimpered urgently while patting her knight’s back. He coughed up some water between desperate breaths before turning his astonished gaze towards her. 

“Never have I seen such foolishness from a noble lady,” he murmured with no trace of anger in his voice as he reached up to caress her cheek.  

The Lady’s lower lip quivered as her eyes glistened with happy tears. “And never have I seen such dedication from a noble knight,” she whispered while nuzzling her cheek against his hand. 

An adoring smile graced his lips as he picked up one of the legendary flowers. “This charming bloom is unfamiliar to me...but retrieving it from the perils of the river was worth it so long it pleases my lady.”

“S-sir Vergil,” she stuttered as her cheeks turned as red as her hair. “‘Tis not the flower that pleases me.”

“My lady has finally addressed me by my formal title,” he chuckled softly while bestowing the delicate flower to her.  

“And thou has finally gifted me what I desired most,” she replied, barely glancing at the legendary flower as she stared down at him in total admiration. 

Sir Vergil sat up and for the very first time...he sought what he desired most ever since he encountered the Lady with a fondness for flowers and stoic knights. Both of their lips brushed against each other before meeting in a kiss so gentle and pressing sweet. And as they basked in the affection and devotion tying them together, they vowed to never leave the other’s side so long as they lived. 

“Forget me not, my beloved.”

“Forget me not, my darling knight.”    

🌹🌹🌹

The idea for this drabble is based off of the medieval legend of how the forget me not flower got its name,

#dmcocweek #devil may cry #dmc #lisandra #each oc will have a drabble per day #I didn't really have any AUs to share #so I took this opportunity to write my very first one 🌹🥰🌹

[jossambird]

Saturday Morning

Axel x Female Reader on her Period

BLOOD WARNING! 18+ !! (Dedicated to my dear Salt Anon, who was absolutely disgusted at the recent talk on my blog, saying I shouldn't be ‘tainting’ the Swedes like this, BUT HERE WE ARE.)

Saturday mornings in Axel’s book were always the best.

He could finally enjoy true peace and quiet, knowing that you and his brothers were peacefully sleeping in late in each of your rooms, leaving only him and the cats to be awake.

Today, as he woke, the sound of the shower already running grabbed his attention. He instantly felt his mood sour, a bit miffed to not have his quiet morning alone.

Hadn’t he told Otto and Oscar that on Saturday mornings, he wanted to enjoy them alone, in silence? Of course, he would never hold it against them if they were sick, but the soft humming that could almost be missed if you didn’t pay attention didn’t seem to be coming from someone being sick.

Axel sighed, rough fingers pulling on a pair of joggings and a shirt, determined to go give either of his brothers a piece of his mind.

The moment he stood before the door, stopping for only but a moment to try and listen once more who it was behind it, he stared at the white painted wood, regretting waking up altogether.

It hadn’t been humming at all. Soft moans sounded out through the hard wood, your voice reaching his ears like a moth to a flame. The sounds were more sensual than he had ever imagined. Axel felt hot and desperate shame lick at his heart as his insides churned, heat pooling in his groin.

Too many times had he dreamed of you, sprawled out on his bed, clothes abandoned all over the house and soft hands seeking him out, begging to be fucked. Too many times had you touched him innocently, his skin remaining on fire for hours on end until he disappeared in his room, jerking himself off until he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Too many mornings had he relieved himself before stepping out of his room, never able to meet your gaze those particular days. The eldest Swede felt like he was under a curse, hypnotized daily by your presence.

He couldn’t say with certainty how badly he had wished for you to truly know, simply to read his mind and tell him you wanted him just the same, but you never did. And he, cold and grumpy, yearned for you from afar, silent, watching as you cuddled and hugged his brothers freely.

But as Axel stood, listening to your moans of pleasure through the bathroom door, he froze, wondering what the right course of action was.

Leave and let you finish yourself off?

Pretend he hadn’t heard you, as if nothing happened?

Walk inside and show you what you were missing?

His body reacted before he could think any longer on the matter, hand reaching for the handle and twisting it open, allowing him to witness you in all of your amazing glory.

In all honesty, Axel was hardly surprised at this point as he groaned loudly by accident, watching you freeze and whip around inside the clear shower, panting, fingers deep inside your pussy, blood trickling down your legs, mixing with the shower water.

Neither of you moved except for the rapid breaths you took, eyes moving down his front-

“Either get in and help, or get out.” You panted in the running shower, eyes closing as your fingers resumed their careful ministrations and entering your core once more, a filthy moan exiting you as Axel watched from the doorway stupefied.

The thought crossed your mind suddenly to simply tell him to get out and that you would be done soon, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to say it, the vicious throb between your legs begging to be sated, begging for the handsome man to touch you.

The ache was terrible, a blazing heat coursing through your veins and body, needing to explode but not being able to. It was always like this when you had your period. Usually, you were able to hide your horniness from the Swedes during the day, but come nighttime, you practically fucked yourself to sleep each night, biting your unoccupied hand to hide your noises from them.

But last night? Nothing had worked, nothing had allowed you to feel the satisfying release you needed, your body growing even more tense and needy as you had imagined Axel waking in not too long.

And here you now stood, shower water running down your heated skin, fingers pounding into your aching core as the eldest of the Swedish Triplets watched you in... what is horror? Disgust? You didn’t want to know-

The bathroom door shut behind you, disappointment coursing through you momentarily until you heard Axel lock the door behind him.

“How long have you been in here?” Axel asked you as he ripped his shirt off, flinging it onto the counter with your own sleep top, eyes never leaving you. You groaned in response, pushing your cheek into the cold tiles once more to hide your blush.

“Too long.. ugh please Axel, help me.” You begged, the words waking a dominant lust inside him as he wondered if you were simply settling for his help. Would you have offered Oscar this opportunity to satisfy your body and needs if it had been him to find you like this? Would you have offered it to Otto, his gentle brother who always smiled when around you?

A slight twinge of jealousy coursed through him at the thought, throwing his joggings to the ground.

As soon as the glass door opened and closed, Axel's rough hands grabbed your hips tightly and turned you around, blue-gray eyes pinning you to the spot as he knelt infront of you on both knees, holding your gaze.

“Tell me, would you have offered my brothers the same thing, had it been either of them to find you?” Axel huskily asked, hands trailing down your wet legs, eyes flickering away for only a second to look at your immobile bloody fingers. He pulled them away from your body and kissed your knuckles, making your thundering heart flutter.

He watched with rapt attention as you gasped, shaking your head No as you continued to watch him pull one of your legs up and over his shoulder, knowing where this was going. The handsome bastard barely blinked when you tried to push away, his eyebrows knitting as he held your elevated knee roughly down onto his shoulder, not wanting you to escape.

“Second thoughts?” He asked, wondering if you were regretting asking him for help. He would respect your choice if you did, but god did he want you, cock hard between his muscled wide legs as he thought of the possibility of finally tasting you, your soaked core inches from his face.

Axel noticed your eyes crinkle before anything else, and for half a second, expected you to laugh at him. He couldn’t stop the intense pounding of his heart as your strangled laugh exited your mouth, smiling ear to ear.

There was no simple way to say it; he was head over heels for you, plain and simple.

“Fuck no, Ive been dreaming of you like this for months. But Axel, w-wait, you cant eat me out, I have my period-“

You didn’t finish, a filthy moan leaving your lips as soon as Axel’s tongue met your heated and aching core, heightened sensitivity making you reach out and cling to his face.

One hand stayed firm onto your elevated leg, caressing your skin while his other wrapped around his cock and moved, trying to match the movement of your hips against his mouth, all the while listening to your angelic voice call out his name.

“Axel oh my god, fuuuck, I'm so close!” Moans escaped you in waves, one after the other, words of praise and adoration leaving your lips, making him groan against you as he continued to lick your clit, adoring the taste of you on his tongue. As he continued, he just wondered how long you had been in here, touching yourself, trying to bring yourself over the edge. He could feel your body tense against him, practically almost there already.

“Most handsome man Ive ever s-seen eating me out- O-ohh fuck, Axel-“ you gasped, hands rising from his shoulders to seek out his wet hair, bright white light erupting behind your eyelids as Axel brought you over the edge, tongue against your clit.

He didn’t last much longer, cumming against the wet floor tiles, listening as you keened and whined against his open mouth as he continued, prolonging your orgasm as much as he could.

You panted, thankful for his hold on you as you nearly slipped, legs turning to jelly.

The sight of him was absolutely indecent; Axel smirked proudly up at you, water and blood dripping down his chin as he stood, leaning his face into the water to rinse out his mouth and face.

The sound of the water hitting both of your bodies disappeared as your heart thudded loudly into your ears.

Axel turned back to you, pulling you against him and pressed his face into your shoulder. He breathed in, smiling a bit wider as he felt your rapid heartbeat match his own.

“Better, or do you need another round?” He whispered over the hot shower, kissing your skin repeatedly in veneration as he listened to your laughter.

“Got a thing for period play Axel? How absolutely naughty.” You teased, laughing as you pulled away to look at him, breath catching as you caught sight of his gaze.

“For you älskling? Id fucking do anything you asked me to.” He groaned out, dropping to his knees once more, smirking dangerously. The sight of the serious assassin you had fallen for kneeling once more between your legs, looking up at you in reverence instantly made you need him all over again.

“Then I absolutely need you to fuck me later today, and tonight.” You moaned out, causing Axel to laugh wholeheartedly against your core.

#blood warning #period blood #the swedes #ikea mafia #tua swedes #the swedes x reader #umbrella academy swedes #tua axel #axel harem gang #axel x reader #ikea fam #jossambird fic

[btxtreads]

Run Away | 1

It is so much easier to get people to hate something than to believe. Part of the Grimoire Series

➴ Pairing: Choi Soobin x Reader ➴ Rating: R-16 ➴ Word Count: 3.6k ➴ Genre: Twisted Fairytales, Yandere ➴ Trigger Warning: uuuuuuh death, uuuuh murder, Y/N is annoying she gets kidnapped a lot but at least she loves soobin yk, blood, Soobin shoots someone in the head, uhhhh there’s like a slight massacre scene just tread lightly, time skips tbh, y/n isn’t a slut but somehow gets slut-shamed idk man

The sand was white—almost as white as the snow on her windowsill back home.

The sound of the waves hitting the beach softly was alluring, the smell of fresh forest air was apparent.

Y/N yelped as her feet landed on the ground, crumpling as she felt the final remains of pixie dust wear off of her body.

Hands encircled her waist, tugging her up to a stand.

“Are you alright?” a deep voice asked, lips brushing her ear as she burned the brightest shade of red.

Y/N turned her head to lock gazes with him.

His jet black hair, brown eyes and innocent smile was almost hypnotizing under the moonlight as he gazed at her in childlike wonder.

His tall stature and graceful movements were almost reminiscent to a rabbit—innocent and harmless.

His lips curled to a smirk as Y/N cleared her throat, ripping her gaze from the boy.

“Fine,” she squeaked as she saw her brother, Junseo, fall in a heap beside her.

Soobin’s head turned to Junseo, only staring as his grip tightened on Y/N’s waist.

“Are you alright?” Soobin repeated, to Junseo this time.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Junseo muttered, standing up.

Soobin gave a firm nod, gesturing to the forest.

“Well,” he smiled. “Welcome to Neverland.”

One month later

Y/N found herself next to Soobin by the campfire, sitting side-by-side and whispering to each other about nothing and everything at the same time.

Y/N settled in nicely—for only being the only human girl in the area, she was also the most protected, with Soobin himself ensuring her safety as much as he could with a hand either holding hers or on her waist.

In Neverland, the princess finally got the freedom she searched long and hard for—in Soobin’s kingdom.

She’s never wanted to be a queen as bad as she did now.

“Can you tell me a story?” A small boy gaped at Y/N from where she sat next to Soobin, who only smiled.

In her time in Neverland, she often found herself playing house with Soobin—taking care of the lost boys like one would a little brother, or perhaps a son.

Hansung, one of the lost boys’ new recruits, was an 8-year-old boy—naturally, he was Y/N’s favorite one to dote on, if Y/N’s giggle and affectionate hair pats to him was anything to go by.

“Of course I can tell you something, Hansung!” Y/N grinned running a hand through his hair, smiling as the young boy yawned.

“Once there was a princess, born to a king and a queen. Hair as black as night, skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood. She was the most beautiful in the land,” Y/N said, her voice soothing.

Soobin’s eyes locked his gaze on her, watching while she runs her hands through the hair of the small child sitting by her feet as she told him a story.

He cracked a smile, loving eyes raking over the princess as she rambled on, soon finishing her story to a sleeping child.

“No one knows where the princess is. Now, she’s just—“

“Gone,” Soobin said nonchalantly, leaning on his  head as he smiled at the girl. “Dead, probably,”

Y/N snorted suddenly, smiling as a lost boy came and picked up the small child to bring to their sleeping areas.

“Yeah?” Y/N chuckled. “The queen probably sent someone to slice her head clean off,”

Soobin laughed, hand reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind Y/N’s ear.

“She’s trying to kill the wrong girl,” Soobin laughed, making Y/N snap her head up to him in surprise.

Soobin cupped her cheek with a delicate smile, running his thumb over her temple.

Y/N blushed a bright red, but smiled nonetheless as she leaned her head on his hand.

“Are you saying I should get murdered?” Y/N raised her eyebrow teasingly.

“Yeah. if they’re killing the most beautiful woman across the galaxies, they should carve your heart out,” Soobin snorted, trailing his hand down from her cheek to lay his palm flat on her chest—on the exact place where her heart was.

His fingers lightly pressed downn, smiling as he felt the increasing speed of her heartbeat.

“I can feel it beating,” Soobin whispered.

“Well, it’s supposed to do that.”

“Not this fast,” Soobin replied.

“I never did understand why it always seems to do that when I’m with you,” Y/N countered, breath hitching as Soobin bit his lip.

“Is that so?”

Y/N cracked a small smile as she leaned closer, her lips almost brushing the boy’s.

Soobin’s hands slid down to her waist, tightening his grip as he moved to crash his lips on the princess’.

If it wasn’t for the severed head of a wild boar being plopped nearby, he would have been devouring her where they currently stood.

Y/N flinched, yelping as pulling away as she heard the squelch of the blood from the offending object—hands clutching Soobin’s neck as she turned over to whoever threw the severed head.

“Junseo?”

Junseo sighed, hands full of blood as he took a seat next to her in exhaustion, a bloodied axe in his hand.

“We got dinner,” Junseo grumbled as another band of lost boys entered, carrying a headless boar.

“Meat!” Y/N gasped, clapping her hands and turning over to a smiling Soobin. “I’ll make you your favorite food!”

“Okay,” Soobin laughed, sighing lovingly.

“Pan,” Junseo said in a firm tone, his gaze trailing up to the boy. “We’ve been here for a month, may we go home soon?”

Soobin’s eyes danced with an unknown emotion as he smiled.

“Has it been a month?” Soobin laughed. “Splendid, let’s have a feast—this calls for a celebration!”

“What’s happening at home, Pan?” Junseo asked inquisitively, making Soobin frown.

“Like I keep saying, hyung—Please do call me Soobin instead of Pan,” Soobin hummed, his gaze falling back to observe Y/N lovingly.

The said girl didn’t notice as she was too busy sending a warning glare to her brother.

This, however, was promptly ignored.

“We’ve been stuck here for months now, Pan,” Junseo demanded, getting more frustrated with the boy who hid his sister behind his figure protectively. “If you’re not bringing us home, then at least tell us what’s happening at home,”

“Us?” Y/N hissed. “If you wanna go home, go. I’m not leaving,”

From where she stood behind Soobin, Y/N shot her brother a challenging gaze.

After a beat of silence, Soobin sighed—his figure relaxing as Y/N’s hands reached out to intertwine with his.

“Uh, there’s a nationwide search going around for the two of you, still—but Prince Beomgyu is married now, because he found the lost princess while looking for Y/N,” Soobin said, squeezing Y/N’s hand. “The, uh, princess in your story, Y/N,”

Y/N smiled fondly.

“He’s married now?” Y/N gaped. “A girl wanted to be with him? Are they really in love?”

“I’d say they are,” Soobin smiled, humming in thought. “Oh, uh, Prince Yeonjun is throwing a welcoming ball for Prince Beomgyu and his new wife in a few weeks,”

“Our parents,” Junseo said gruffly. “Is there anything they’re doing to find us?”

Soobin pursed his lips, sighing.

“Not after Beomgyu’s marriage.” Soobin smiled sadly. “They stopped then, and then they started grooming your little brother for the throne, Junseo,”

Junseo clenched his fists, standing up angrily.

“No, they can’t do that,” Junseo hissed.

“Junseo—” Y/N spoke, stopping when her brother turned to her livid.

“I’m the king! I’m supposed to take that throne—you’re supposed to be beside Beomgyu, not stay here in this forest with—“ Junseo stopped, looking at Soobin. “—that.”

“Junseo,” Y/N raised her voice, eyes flaring. “Don’t talk to him like that,”

“Y/N,” Junseo hissed. “this boy is keeping you from your destiny. Our family loves us—they’re not just going to stop looking for us,”

“Why not? Beomgyu’s already married—he doesn’t need me anymore. He already has a girl to love and to fuck—and I’m happy for him, really—but now, I lost my purpose to our family, which means they don’t care about me anymore.” Y/N argued. “Junseo, face it. They’re leaving us for dead,”

“No, no,” Junseo denied angrily. “I’m still here, I’m his eldest son,”

“Junseo, even—“

Y/N yelped as Junseo stepped forward, harshly grabbing Y/N’s wrist and tugging it roughly.

“No, you listen. I’m not supposed to be Prince Beomgyu’s bitch like you are—I’m going to be the king,” Junseo stated. “They might stop looking for you, but they will be looking for me,”

Y/N cracked a sardonic smile, leaning forward.

“There’s a spare for a reason,” she hissed, tugging her hand out of Junseo’s grip and backing away towards Soobin.

“Lay a hand on her again, and I’ll cut it off,” Soobin’s voice boomed, gently pushing Y/N behind him once again.

Junseo chuckled in amusement, looking back up at Soobin.

“Is that a threat, Pan?”

Soobin’s fingers flexed, his hands ready to reaching for a sword as Junseo reached for his axe.

“Pan—“

“Breach! Hook’s men killed our guards! They’re coming to kill us all!”

Before any of them could reply, Y/N squeaked.

“Bin?”

Soobin whirled around, eyes widening as he saw Y/N—a dagger pressed to her already bleeding neck.

“One move, little boy,” Hook hissed, pressing the dagger deeper into Y/N’s neck. “and I’ll slice it,”

Soobin didn’t speak, his eyes frantic as Hook’s men came to surround them.

Y/N winced in pain, keeping as still as she can as she felt the blood drip down from her throat.

“I didn’t know you had a woman, Pan.” Hook hummed, licking the shell of Y/N’s ear teasingly—his eyes trained on the tall boy.

“Get your filthy tongue away from her—“

“He said not a step,” another voice hummed out, making Soobin turn to a boy with bright red hair walking over.

“Taehyun,” Soobin hissed, holding his sword up as he saw his former lost boy.

“Hi, hyung.” Taehyun smiled, waving in mock amusement as he glanced at Y/N. “Oh, wow. A princess? Such high standards, hyung,”

Taehyun’s eyes trailed over to Junseo, tilting his head and smiling.

“Hi there!”

“I hope Hook’s treating you well, you sick son of a bitch,” Soobin growled, glaring at Taehyun.

“Oh, yeah. I got promoted—Right-hand man. Can you believe?” Taehyun laughed as his smile got wider. “Besides, Hook has a son. It’s so amazing—the feeling of having a genuine friend. A brother,”

Soobin’s eyes flashed with some unidentified emotion—gone as quick as it came.

“Let her go,” Soobin breathed angrily, holding himself back as Y/N’s eyes locked with him.

The dagger pressed deeper and deeper on Y/N’s neck, making the girl bite her lip in pain—deep enough to draw blood there as well.

Soobin’s eyes got even darker.

“What’s your name, dear?” Hook asked.

“Y/N.” she replied, voice low and soft.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Hook said.

Before anyone else could say anything, the world turned black.

Y/N gasped, panting as she woke up and eyes frantic as she glanced around the cabin.

Wait—cabin? That wasn’t Soobin’s?

She sat up and gaped, feeling slightly sick as she felt the slow rocking of the floor.

She was on a boat.

On a boat with—

“Good, you’re up,”

Y/N’s eyes shot up, locking with two figures inside the room with her.

The one who spoke was a tall boy, maybe a year or or two younger than Soobin—with kind eyes trying its hardest to glare, and a kind face exerting maximum effort to seem scary.

Y/N sat up slightly, her eyes trailing over to the red-head behind the boy.

Taehyun, if she remembered correctly.

The boy only shot the girl an amused smile, raising his eyebrow.

If Taehyun was here, then the boy must be—

“You must be Hook’s son,” Y/N spoke delicately, eyeing the dagger sheathed by the boy’s waist.

“I’m Kai,” the boy said, trying to deepen his voice to seem more intimidating.

He was as intimidating as a newborn penguin.

“Hi, Kai,” Y/N said softly, smiling at the boy who seemed to relax. “Can I know where I am?”

“You’re at the Jolly Roger, Captain Hook’s ship,” Kai replied. “Look, we know Pan—“

“Soobin,” Y/N said, fiddling with her fingers. “His name is Soobin.”

“Whatever,” Kai sighed. “He took you—telling you sweet words about freedom and magic—but it’s all a lie. Neverland is a prison and a trap set by him. He’s a bomb, and a monster that’s willing to kill, but it’s okay. You’re out now, we can help,”

“O-Okay,” Y/N said, furrowing her eyebrows. “but Soobin wouldn’t do that,”

“He does, and he is,” Kai huffed. “Trust me,”

Y/N froze, eyes welling up with tears as she panted.

“But, Soobin—Bin, he—“ Y/N croaked. “Soobin told me that—“

“It’s all a lie, he lied to you!” Kai said, growing increasingly frustrated as he reached out and shook her shoulders. “Are you listening to me?”

“He-he wouldn’t do that to me. He-He promised that I was free—“

“His promises mean shit—He’s lying,” Kai said. “He doesn’t love you,”

Y/N froze, eyes locking with Kai as she clenched her teeth.

Kai stopped as tears started to roll down her cheeks.

“Soobin wouldn’t lie,” She whispered.

“Kai,” Taehyun spoke, reaching out to take Kai away from the girl. “Calm down, let her breathe,” 

Kai shot the girl a glance—full of regret or frustration, she can’t tell—and marched out of the room.

Taehyun’s eyes fell to the crying girl as he pursed his lips.

“Y/N,” he sighed. “Kai didn’t lie—Soobin is a monster, a bomb ready to set off at any time,”

Y/N looked up, her eyes firm and fierce as she hissed.

“He’s not a monster to me,”

Taehyun scoffed, turning his back and making his way out of the room.

“Then you’re good as dead,”

Hours later, she found herself running into the arms of a bloody Soobin, with an equally as bloody Junseo unconscious on the floor as they stood in a pool of blood and corpses.

It all happened so fast.

Junseo shot up in bed, groaning as he felt the sharp sting in his abdomen.

Next to his bed sat Y/N, who was looking at Junseo with wide eyes—donning a loose green top that Soobin usually wore around.

“You’re awake?” Y/N gasped, leaning forward to check his side.

There was a deep gash, a stab wound that was open and thoroughly bleeding.

“Junseo, you’re bleeding!” Y/N exclaimed, which was only waved off by the said boy.

“Screw that,” Junseo hissed, grabbing his sister’s wrist roughly. “We have to move,”

“What?” Y/N asked.

“We’re leaving Neverland,” Junseo growled, draggin Y/N out of the tent.

“Junseo, I don’t want to go,” Y/N explained calmly. “And if you want to go, then fine, I’ll talk to Soobin for you—but you can’t right now. You’re bleeding, and you’re too weak,”

Y/N’s words ran true as Junseo stumbled, making Y/N lurch forward and grab his body to regain his balance.

“No, no, don’t tell Pan—”

“His name is Soobin—“

“I don’t give a fuck!” Junseo exclaimed. “We’re going home without that son of a bitch knowing,”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as Junseo struggled on his feet.

“I don’t understand, why are you so angry at him—” Y/N argued angrily, her frustration increasing.

“Y/N, your god damn boyfriend is a murderer!” Junseo exclaimed as he whirled around in anger. “He kills people, Y/N,”

Unbeknownst to him, Soobin and a couple of his Lost Boys appeared to the scene—eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s happening?” He asked as he moved forward, freezing when Y/N held her hand up to stop him.

Y/N looked unfazed, her eyes rolling at her own brother.

“Soobin is not a murderer—what the hell are you talking about, Junseo?”

“He is!”

“You’re being delusional, go back to bed!” Y/N demanded.

Junseo turned, eyes angry.

“How big is his dick?”

“Excuse me?” Y/N answered, an offended look in her face as Junseo stormed forward.

Soobin only stayed silent, clenching his jaw.

“How big is that asshole’s dick, and how good did he fuck you to get you all wrapped around his finger, huh?”

“What the fuck?” Came Y/N’s offended response.

“Fucked you so hard you lost your fucking brain?” Junseo hissed, laughing mockingly. “Say goodbye, then. We’re going home. This is final.”

“For the millionth time, I’m not going home!”

“Why? You promised to suck his dick tonight?” Junseo stated angrily.

Y/N clenched her teeth in anger as her hand flied across Junseo’s face, a bright red handprint burning on his face.

“Fuck you,” Y/N hissed.

“Junseo,” Soobin started softly, as he tried to walk forward.

Junseo grabbed his sister by the shoulder, pulling her away from Soobin’s reach as he drew a dagger sheathed in his pants.

“Don’t come any closer,”

Soobin clenched his teeth and stopped in place—holding his hands up.

“Junseo, I—“

“You’re a fucking murderer.”

“You’re not making any fucking sense—“ Y/N started, flinching when Junseo screamed at her.

“He killed people right in front of me!”

“Sure, okay! Fine! Probably!” Y/N said, throwing up her arms. “But he did that to save our lives, Junseo!”

“He killed Lost Boys—“

“Why the hell would he kill Lost Boys when they’re practically his family?” Y/N said. “Try to use your fucking head for at least once in your fucking life!”

Junseo opened his mouth to retort, but Y/N shook her head.

“You know what? Go—leave if you want to, but I’m not going,” Y/N hissed. “I’m staying. Here. With him.”

“Y/N—“

“That’s final.” Y/N hissed, repeating the boy’s earlier words.

Junseo sighed, breathing through his nose before nodding.

“Fine, then. I’m sorry,”

In a flash, his hands reached out—grabbing his sister by the shoulders and pressing his body on her back, an arm trapping her to him and the other pressing a dagger to her neck.

“Pan,” Junseo started. “How do we get home?”

Soobin’s eyes widened in alarm as he locked gazes with Y/N.

“Junseo, she doesn’t want to go home,” Soobin said, his voice shaking slightly. “Please just let her go,”

“Yeah? The only way she’s staying in this island is if she’s a fucking corpse,” Junseo hissed, pressing the dagger deeper—ignoring Y/N’s pained hiss.

“Junseo, stop it—“

“Shut the fuck up, you slut,” Junseo hissed.

“Junseo, I’m not going to ask again. Let her go,” Soobin said, voice turning firmer.

“You don’t get to make fucking demands,” Junseo said to Soobin.

The other boy shook his head, an angry chuckle falling from his lips as he grabbed a bow and arrow being offered to him by a Lost Boy.

He notched a single arrow, taking aim.

“Let. Her. Go.” Soobin’s voice was grim and dark—the permanent smile on his face eradicated as he glared fiercely.

Junseo’s eyes shone with an unidentified emotion, backing away with Y/N is his hands.

“H-How do I get home?”

“I’ll take you home, but you’re not taking her away from me.” Soobin hissed. “Let her go.”

Soobin took a step forward, which made Junseo panic.

“Not one more step—“

As he screamed, he stepped on a home-made animal trap from behind him.

The sound of the net setting off rung loud—making Junseo flinch and raise his dagger to stab his own sister.

Y/N couldn’t react—her eyes only darted over to Soobin, whose eyes practically burned with fire as he let go of the arrow in his hands.

Before Junseo’s hand can come down at Y/N with the dagger, the arrow pierced clean through his skull.

There was a dull thud—signifying Junseo’s body falling into a lifeless heap on the ground.

Shaking, Y/N turned to look at Junseo.

She gasped as he started frothing at the mouth—black tinting through his veins from where the arrow pierced through his body.

“W-What’s happening? Is-Is he dead?” Y/N stuttered.

“I think so,” Soobin said, lips pursed as he lowered his bow.

Y/N turned back to Soobin with wide, quivering eyes—hands shaking as she gasped.

“Soobin,”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I—“

Before he could continue, Y/N sprinted towards him with her arms outstretched and tears falling on her face.

“I-I was so scared,” Y/N sobbed, arms wrapping around Soobin’s waist and face buried in his chest. “I thought I was going to die, I didn’t want to leave,”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Soobin soothed, gesturing for his Lost Boys to take care of Junseo’s body. “It’s over now,”

Y/N sniffled, looking up and locking her eyes with his.

“I didn’t want to leave Neverland—not when Junseo told me to, and not when Hook’s son told me to,” Y/N said.

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to leave you,” Y/N said, her voice quivering as she reached up to brush Soobin’s hair out of his face. “I love you,”

Soobin didn’t reply, closing his eyes and releasing a deep breath.

“Say that again,”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love—“

Soobin tilted his head down, lips crashing on hers.

Y/N melted on the spot, arms snaking around his neck as she groaned into the kiss.

Soobin leaned his head down to kiss her deeper.

Y/N broke away, panting.

Soobin smiled, brushing his nose with hers.

“No one will ever take you away from me, No one will ever hurt you,” Soobin declared. “No one will ever get to touch you but me, No one will ever get to love and be loved by you but me. I’ll kill them if they try—you’re mine. Only mine.”

Soobin’s lips cracked a small smile as Y/N responded with a giggle.

“Okay,”

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” Y/N hummed, caressing his face. “Only yours.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled as she rose on her tippy toes—lips brushing against his once more.

“Say that again.”

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