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kinktae · 2 years

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most undesirable || (M)

Spring has sprung and engagement is on the forefront of all of Regency London's young ladies' minds. All except for yours, of course– the Queen's niece who a certain notorious author has named the Ton's most undesirable.

pairing: lord!jungkook x lady!reader

word count: 5k

genre: BRIDGERTON AU, regency era, angst, eventual smut

warnings: cocaine usage (not oc or jk), oc has dead parents

A/N: this fic was commissioned by the lovely Baby. As per her request, it features me and our beloved izzy! please do let me know if you would like a part two, i have big plans for whats to come next ;)

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PART ONE **UNEDITED**

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A word of profanity left your painted lips as the outsoles of your lace-up boots danced across the limestone floor of the palace, making haste but not in a manner that was unbecoming, your head held high despite your mood running low.

You reached the door of Her Majesty's room with purpose, hands fiddling with the satin of your dress to make sure it covered your shoes. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate the influx of garments your dear aunt had gifted you upon your arrival. Still, the heels Her Majesty had deemed in style this season were particularly uncomfortable. She would no doubt grow sour to see you parading in countryside shoes in her home.

"Your highness." One of the oldest guards snickered, his eyes flicking towards you knowingly as he and another guard moved to open the grand doors to their Queen's private quarters.

You crunched your nose, "Shh."

Of course, the guards had already read the paper… Rotten gossips.

Willing a smile onto your face, you were let into the room. Your aunt sat at her sofa, the furniture floral in design, its fabric dyed a luxurious red. Between her hands were the source of your dismay, the newest Lady Whistledown papers fresh off the press.

You hadn't had the pleasure of reading this week's issue personally, but word traveled outrageously fast in the palace; both maids and guards suckers for a good scandal. You knew quite intimately the matter of its content as you were the matter of its content.

"Ah. Niece. There you are.” The Queen called you over, setting the paper down beside her unceremoniously.

You walked closer stiffly, "Aunt Charlotte, you wished to speak to me?"

"You know I adore you, don't you? You're like a breath of fresh air in this miserably dull palace."

Your once tense shoulders relaxed instantly, taking comfort in knowing she hadn't called you in for a scolding.

"It is you that lights up every room you enter, your Majesty." You bowed your head slightly, knowing well that flattery was your best line of defense should the tides change against you.

"I do, don't I?" She agreed with a grin, before it fell off her face suddenly. "Sorry– whatever were we talking about?"

"Um–"

"Ah, yes! Well, there's no point mincing words. I'm sure you've seen it by now. I mean, can you believe it? That sorrowful sow Whistledown attempting to soil the reputation of my bloodline with such a frivolous title as… as…" She snapped her fingers, forgetting the word she was looking for.

The sound echoed throughout her enormous chambers, currently barren as your aunt was in the process of renovating.

"Ice Princess." You reminded her quietly. She tutted her tongue in recognition.

"How tactless, how tasteless! It is me who sets reputations. Not her. No, no, this simply won't do."

You watched in silence as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Remind me, darling. Why weren't you at the Danbury Ball?"

You shifted, thinking back on the excuse you had given her, "I was… ill."

It was a lie, of course. You had been feeling quite well actually when notice of the ball came 'round. But could anyone fault you? Ballrooms and gowns weren't exactly your area of expertise.

Growing up, your mother and your aunt couldn't be more different; you often heard stories of the two sisters butting heads from your grandfather. One sister went on to marry the king of England, the other a humble traveling merchant. One stood throne in England; the other lived simply in France's countryside. Despite their differences, it was no secret that your aunt loved her older sister dearly, writing to her often in hopes of convincing her to come move to England. When she learned that your mother was with child, she even went as far as to purchase land for her sister and soon to be niece.

But your mother was every bit as stubborn as she was kind. She loved her husband and the life she had built with him, staying by his side until she passed last year. Your poor father was grief-stricken; by eight months, the stress on his heart had become too much, dying nearly a year after your mother.

It was your aunt who had reached out first, offering her deepest condolences and, far more noticeably, all the money you could ever need and your very own suite in the palace.

You weren't exactly sure why you had agreed to such a lucrative proposal. You, much like your mother, adored the countryside and the small town you grew up in. And perhaps that was why you agreed, not to move in, but instead to visit. She was family, after all, something you didn't have very much of left, though you have since come to know of a cousin Friedrich, recently married to an Edwina Sharma that your aunt raved on and on about.

In the week you had been here, you had come to know far more about British aristocracy than you ever wished to know, entirely out of your element amidst the corsets and personal maids. Only recently had you managed to lower your number of attending maids to two, a far cry from the original seven you were greeted with.

You did your best to fit in, but you were no fool. You knew nothing of soireés– or how to dance for that matter, so the moment your aunt spoke of a ball, you knew you had to conjure up some excuse as to why you woefully must decline.

"Exactly! For heaven's sake, you were ill. How dare Whistledown suggest otherwise." She gestured at the staff in the room as though they were her audience.

The sound of the Queen's chamber doors being thrown stole the attention of everyone in the room. Unsurprising to you, two young maids barreling in, tripping on each other.

"S-Sorry, Your Majesty!" The blonde stuttered out.

The brunette nodded in agreement, "Our apologies, Your Majesty. We didn't know where her highness had gone–"

"–We came running as soon as we realized she had snuck off."

Isabella and Roselia. Of course. Your two personal maids. You had only just managed to shake them from your trail when you heard the news that the Queen had sent for you. You should have figured they'd inevitably catch up with you.

They were pleasant enough company, the duo were quite funny, actually, but the constant shadowing was something you learned you rather detested. You understood they were under strict orders by the Queen to ensure your every need was attended to but still… surely even nobility understood the concept of wanting to have a moment alone?

"Oh— Are we interrupting something?" Roselia's cheeks went pink, eyes running over the room as she took note of the Queen's pursed mouth. "We'll just… we can wait outside actually."

"Outside, right! We'll be just outside." Isabella chimed in, heading bowing as the brunette maid yanked her back and out of the room.

"Sorry for the intrusion!"

You stifled a snicker, watching as the young maids slipped back out of the Queen's chambers, shutting the grand doors as they went. Your aunt merely rolled her eyes at the bumbling maids.

Suddenly, her Majesty sniffed, and it was as if a switch had been flipped. All her maids ran towards her, offering handkerchiefs as if their life depended on it. You nearly laughed at such a ridiculous display of servitude, but seeing as you had spent well over a week in the palace, you had become accustomed to such theatrics.

"Whistledown is right about one thing, you know." Queen Charlotte said as her nose was blotted at. "Everyone needs to meet you. And meet you they shall."

In surprise, you pulled your eyes from the doting maids, "They shall?"

"Certainly. We shall have a ball. Here in the palace, of course."

You felt your stomach plummet into your leather-bound boots, your aunt's words echoing.

"All of London's marriage-minded ladies and lords are to be invited. We'll show Whistledown just how splendid you are. Oh! How glorious if you were to find a suitor! That certainly would put to rest that frozen title once and for all."

Just faintly, you could make out the sound of white noise buzzing, mixing with the words the Queen spoke. Anxiety flooded you, deafening your brain's attempts to self-soothe and rationalize that this wasn't the catastrophe you felt it was.

"Aunt Charlotte," you tried to swallow, but your mouth felt stripped of all moisture, "I… I'm not sure if that is wise–"

But it was as if she hadn't heard you, rambling on as if you hadn't objected, "I'll be arranging for etiquette and dance lessons since my beloved sister undoubtedly failed to do the same for you. Are you free this afternoon, darling?"

You stood for a moment, no doubt looking foolish as you struggled to get your words out, "I… I suppose I am…"

"Dear, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Are you feeling well?" The Queen cocked her head at you, eyes sizing you up with concern.

"I… I am not feeling my best." You admitted.

"That's the second time now. Growing up in the countryside— all that sun and dirt— it's made you weak of constitution. Hm. Very well. We'll wait until you're feeling better. In the meantime, I will begin planning!"

You averted your eyes politely as she bent over suddenly, inhaling a white powder off her tea tray through a nostril. She sat up with an exhale, eyes fluttering open with a smile.

"Oh, how I love having you come to stay in the palace for a change. I'm terribly bored these days, you know." She sighed. "Did you care to assist me with planning?"

Despite how you felt seconds from unearthing your already digested lunch, you managed an apologetic smile, "I'm not sure I'd be of much help. I'm afraid I've never hosted a party before."

"Yes, my dearly departed sister never cared much for such things, did she? Such a shame she raised you out of the aristocracy." She said.

A furrow found your brow.

"You're wrong, you know." You disagreed before you could think to hold your tongue. And just like that you had become a magnet, all eyes in the room snapping towards your frame.

"Oh? About?" The Queen offered you a pointed look.

"About the way I was raised. I wouldn't change a thing about it. My mother didn't fail me… she loved me. I had a mother and father who loved me. That was worth more to me than any new dress could ever." You said, gesturing to the gifted garment you adorned today, with perhaps a touch more spite than you should've.

Of two things those in the palace knew to be true. One— Her Majesty was not wrong. Ever. Her opinion was the first to seek and the only to matter. Anyone was someone because she said so, whether explicitly or subtly.

And two— her love for her niece ran deeper than even she anticipated, as watching you stand before her defiantly didn't fill her with rage as the staff in the room assumed, but rather with melancholy.

You looked like your mother just then. It seemed you reminded her of her sister more and more as the days rolled by.

"Your mother would be pleased to hear that." She merely replied, wondering if her sister might be looking down on you both at this moment. At her words, your entire demeanor softened.

"Very well. Off you go." Your Queen sniffed, a handkerchief at her nose within seconds.

Bowing, you moved to exit the room.

"And niece," she called one last time, causing you to turn around, "must you wear such unsightly footwear under your dress?"

You felt your face grow hot, muttering a quiet apology before exiting the room altogether.

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"Chin up, darling." Your aunt reminded you.

You followed her instructions coolly, hoping you didn't look nearly as nervous as you felt.

It was undoubtedly a soirée for the books; every square inch of the ballroom was gilded in gold, the chandeliers' gleam diffusing luxuriously as it bounced around the room.

Eligible men and women of all shapes and sizes had come from far and wide, donned in their absolute best; every possible hue of pink, blue and purple on display for Her Majesty. The ballroom looked akin to the royal grounds, you thought; the cool-toned dresses reminding you of upside-down bellflowers, floating across the marble floor in a synchronized dance.

Flocks of the most noticeable families and town figures had swarmed their way to the royal estate, drowning themselves in champagne as corseted woman fluttered their eyes at the Ton's lords.

But despite their poised smiles, neither woman nor man spared you more than a cautious glance and courteous bow. As the hours ticked by, you couldn't help but feel increasingly uneasy. Was it fear of Her Majesty sitting beside you that kept them away from you? Or was it the less than auspicious picture a certain faceless author had painted for them about you?

"It's rather hot in here, wouldn't you say?" The Queen spoke to you suddenly, looking larger than life from her magnificent throne.

"I suppose." You agreed absentmindedly, far too occupied with how a group of ladies' eyes flickered your way.

She continued, "Perhaps some champagne will cool you down. Why don't you fetch yourself a glass, dear?"

The meaning behind her words was clear. Go. Socialize.

"A splendid idea." You concurred.

Granting yourself one final shaky breath, you straightened up, walking towards the table where drinks were being freshly poured.

"What shall it be, my lady?" A servant greeted you politely as you reached it.

"A glass of champagne, please." You smiled, grateful for a friendly face, perhaps the first of the night.

The servant nodded, moving to open a new bottle.

"She doesn't even hold a title, you know. That Ice Princess."

You blinked, growing still as your ears caught wind of a conversation between party goers not far from you.

"But she's the Queen's niece?"

A sinking feeling washed over you, the kind that made all the other noise in the room disappear. You flirted briefly with abandoning your spot in the room altogether, but the bubbling pour of golden liquid into a glass kept you still. You thanked the servant with a halfhearted smile.

Bringing the glass to your mouth, you turned an ear to the three gossiping ladies, careful to avoid their gaze.

"Word has it her mother married out of the aristocracy." One of them babbled, pulling noises of disbelief from the others.

"Pity. Though, I suppose that explains the appalling way she walks in heels. You'd think she grew hooves from all that time she spent in the countryside." Another prattled. Stifled giggles rang around the group like they were all in some sort of secret, one that wasn't theirs to know. "Can you believe she thinks herself better than us?"

"One more glass, if you please." You asked the same servant, quickly making your way back to the Queen, now with a glass in either hand.

You approached her wordlessly, merely offering her a glass.

"Ah." She accepted the drink eagerly, and for a moment, there was silence, the two family members enjoying the cool velvety acidity of what was no doubt costly champagne.

"It appears the Ton thinks poorly of me." You blurted out.

You felt rather foolish telling this to your aunt. It wasn't as if you really cared what three cankerous aristocrats thought of you. But who else were you to tell? You knew no one.

Your Aunt Charlotte furrowed her delicately painted brow, "Darling, it'll do you well to realize that this Ton doesn't think. They merely reiterate what they've been told. They don't know you. Never mind what they think they know."

But her words went in one ear and out the other, merely background noise to the way you suddenly felt all eyes on you.

And suddenly, your dress was too tight, the ballroom too small. You felt your breath grow shallow, a sure sign of panic. How may others deemed you the subject of gossip tonight? What else were they saying about you?

"I think I should step out for a moment." You muttered.

"Take your maids with you!"

You were halfway across the room before you could even think to register your aunt's reply. Blinking away your tears, you pushed yourself through the crowd, muttering absentminded apologies as partygoers scoffed in protest.

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How small you felt sitting alone in the palace's rose gardens. You wept on a stone bench, wishing ever so badly that your mother was here, looking back with sorrow at how she used to pull you into her lap whenever you were upset. How she used to wrap her arms around you, and everything seemed better, if even for a moment.

How you missed her. How you missed your father. How you missed your life away from this shining, hollow palace.

But they were gone, and the simple life that awaited you back home was gone. Aunt Charlotte was all the family you had left. Without your parents, your home was gone.

"Oh! My lady… forgive me!"

A soft voice caused you to gasp, turning to face the man that had walked in on your self wallowing.

You were up on your feet in seconds, wiping away at your face.

"No… no, it is I who should apologize! I'm sorry you had to see me like that." Your cheeks burned.

"See you like what?" The mysterious raven-haired stranger pressed, a note of cheekiness to his tone. "Human? Heaven forbid."

You laughed gently, sniffling away your shame. You knew at once he was no threat to you.

The young lord wasn't exactly sure what had led him to the palace gardens; most of the event seemed to be taking place indoors as the night nipped and chilled unforgivingly. Still, a few stray bodies mingled underneath the string of lights that the palace servants had strung up. He had briefly greeted them, passing through the clouds of cigar smoke and small talk before bounding down limestone stairs.

He had tucked his hands into his pants pockets, sighing as the night's festivities grew quieter the further he slipped away, the crunch of wet grass kissing the underneath of his dress shoes. His mind was heavy with thoughts, hardly noticing where his legs had taken him.

It was the sound of your cries that pulled him from his thoughts and jerked him back to his senses.

He was in the Queen's rose garden; he immediately recognized the vibrant flowers and tall bushes. What he failed to recognize, however, was the weeping girl sitting on a stone bench, a look of embarrassment written plainly on her pretty face as she realized she was not alone.

He was quite handsome, you noticed despite your humiliation. He was younger than most of the lords inside, his face still featuring a certain softness despite his sharp features. His gaze was inherently kind, his warm brown eyes all but beckoning you to lower your guards.

"Lord Jeon.” He introduced himself with a bow, eyes never leaving yours. "Forgive me if I frightened you, my lady. I shall return at once and grant you your privacy."

You sank back down onto the bench, pulling the shawl wrapped around your shoulders closer. Your dress was beautiful— you were beautiful… puffy eyes, smeared makeup and all. He couldn't imagine why a lady like yourself would be weeping in the rose gardens unattended.

"It's alright. I supposed I'm not the only introvert at this party tonight. The garden is big enough for the two of us."

Lord Jeon shrugged, "A bit of fresh air is good for the soul."

You watched cautiously as he walked closer, sitting beside you on the opposite side of the bench.

"You know… I've been told I'm a decent listener." He said suddenly, brown eyes admiring the roses surrounding you.

You blinked, "Is that so?"

"Well… not explicitly. But I've got two ears, so I'd say I do alright." He teased.

You smiled softly, contemplating how much to reveal to this stranger.

"It's… I suppose I'm just a bit out of my element here."

"You?" He seemed surprised, a slight chuckle of disbelief accompanying his question.

"You laughed." You raised a brow.

He bit down on his lower lip as if contemplating his following words.

"Well, it's just… I can't imagine someone like you having trouble at these events." He confessed.

For a moment, you wondered what he could mean. Looking down at your lap, you realized he must be referring to your extraordinarily fanciful garments.

"Ah. These clothes were a gift, and this hair— well, none of this is me. Not really. Truly, I don't know why I came." You sighed.

He nodded, "Beginning to feel that way myself, actually. Most lose interest when they hear my name. I'm a bit of a nobody, it seems."

"Funny. It would appear you and I have the opposite problem." You nearly laughed.

"Uptown girl, are you?"

"I'm afraid I've got a bit of a reputation. And no one cares to know whether it's true or not." You said.

He let out a sigh.

"Terrible soirée full of terrible people. I can't say that doesn't happen here often."

You let his words hang in the night's cold air, your fingers intertwining themselves across your lap.

"Is that all?"

Your head turned to face him, growing warm to find him already looking at you.

"Forgive me, it's just," he continued, "your sadness… it feels heavier than you're letting on."

He watched as your body language changed, suddenly tense as if you had built your walls back up.

He was back up on his feet within seconds, his shoes coming into view by the bottom of your dress as he stood in front of you.

Swallowing down a sob, you allowed yourself to look up at him.

"May I?" He asked, extending a hand out as if wanting yours.

Hesitantly, you gave it to him, assuming you would be ushered back onto your feet. To your surprise, however, he merely flipped your hand over, your palm now facing the night sky.

Your eyes widened as he took a finger and traced a line onto your palm.

No. Not A line. A letter.

L-O-V-E-R-?

He wrote into your palm. You stared at your hand, skin still buzzing faintly from where his finger had run across.

His mother used to do such a thing when he was younger and much angrier, often struggling to say the words when something troubled him. He only hoped it would work for you the way he had for him.

Frowning, you shook your head. He wrote once again.

F-A-M-I-L-Y-?

A tear fell from you as if instinctively. You nodded your head, confirming his suspicions. Spurred on by his touch, you moved to grab his hand, flipping it upside down as he had done to yours.

L-O-N-E-L-Y you wrote.

"… I just wish I had a little bit longer with them." You found yourself saying once you had finished.

"No time is enough when it comes to the people you love." He spoke with heart as if referring to his own personal melancholy.

Another tear fell from your eyes as his thumb ran over your palm, not to spell anything but to offer his condolences.

"No. I suppose not." You sniffed, a shiver running over you as a crisp breeze passed the two of you.

He wrote into your palm again.

C-O-L-D-?

You let out a laugh, shrugging dismissively.

"Here." Lord Jeon suddenly peeled his suit jacket off his shoulders. You froze, stunned silent as he gently draped it over your shoulders, a gentle smile on his face.

Your chest tightened, moved by the gesture of kindness. But before you could think to thank him, his warm fingers were at your palm once more.

F-R-I-E-N-D-?

His smile tugged at your heartstrings. You wondered how anyone inside could possibly look down on him. You didn't need to know his name to see that he was kind, a worthy suitor for any marriage-minded aristocrat.

F-R-I-E-N-D. You wrote back.

Happy was the girl who sat on the cement bench of the palace's rose garden, wrapped up warm under the jacket of the first person to show you genuine, unconditional kindness since arriving weeks ago.

The two strangers sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the quiet of company. Neither of you knew the other, but there was comfort in the silhouettes of the adjacent shadows at your feet, knowing that neither had ill intent towards the other.

"Do you ever wonder what it might be like to live in a palace?"

You fell stiff, mute as you turned towards him, watching how he looked over at the illuminated estate.

"Lonely."

"You think?" He pondered.

"I'm not fond of big empty rooms. They tend to make me feel small." You explained quietly.

"Well, should I ever have a palace, there would be no empty rooms. Every room with music and the sound of children's laughter. I would decree it so."

"Children? And where do you figure you might obtain those?" You chuckled.

"Well, they'd be mine, of course." He grinned lopsidedly.

You grinned back at him. "Then the happiest of children they would be."

You suppose the young lord reminded you somewhat of a child. He was a man by every definition of the word, standing tall and proud, but there was something about the way his large eyes took in the palace that was decidedly childlike. Eyes wide and glimmering with awe.

You watched contently as he suddenly noticed the silver plated container that sat by the leg of the bench; an unopened bottle of champagne sat neatly in a bed of ice, several glasses along side it.

Your dear aunt thought of everything when it came to party planning, you were coming to find out.

"Shall we?" He smirked suggestively.

"I don't see why not." You laughed.

The two of you giggled as he attempted to open the bottle, champagne spilling everywhere. He tried to pour you a glass neatly, but your new friend had no future in bartending, champagne spilling over the glass' edge and onto your fingers.

Sticky but smiling, you brought your glass up, mirroring him.

"A toast." He decided, his own glass now only half full from his carelessness.

"To?" You questioned.

He contemplated for a moment, meeting your inquisitive eyes innocently. A boyish smile broke out across his face.

"To us, of course. Tonight's most undesirables." He declared, making you chuckle.

But before you could touch glasses…

"Your highness!"

Your eyes went wide, your stomach dropping as a certain blond maid came scrambling into the garden.

"Isabella! Please! Just 'my lady' will do." Heat rocketed up your neck, ears no doubt hot to the touch.

Her hands fell to her knees, clearly out of breath from running around the palace grounds, undoubtedly in search of you.

"My lady, I should advise you to return to the party. Her Majesty the Queen has someone she wants you to meet." She cautioned.

You cursed internally.

"Of course, she does. Give me just a moment then. I'll be over shortly."

The young maid's eyes flickered over to Lord Jeon, cheeks rosy.

"But your highness—"

"Thank you, Isabella." You cut her off curtly.

The young maid gave you two one more final look over before nodded, pardoning herself with a curtesy.

Hesitantly, you turned back towards Lord Jeon, unsure what to make of the look of disbelief clearly written across his face.

Awkwardly, you brought your glass to your mouth, taking a cautious sip.

"Your highness? You're a princess?" He gawked, eyes still wide.

"No!" You quipped. "Not… technically?"

The young lord merely blinked at you, his doe eyes telling you everything his mouth wasn't.

You were rambling before you could help yourself.

"M-My mother is the Queen's sister. Technically speaking, she held the title of 'Princess.' Though, I suppose if my mother were born a man then, yes, that would make me a princess— titles are patriarchal in nature, it's all… very complicated, really…"

You felt like you couldn't take in a deep enough breath, the chilly air now burning your lungs.

"So… not a princess. Just… daughter of a princess." He reiterated, clearly stunned.

You felt a frown form on your face, all your etiquette instructor's reminders of poise and manners slipping from your mind.

"I am the Queen's niece. We shall leave it at that."

The handsome lord had the most fascinated look on his face, eyes locked on the way your jaw twitched, mouth shut rigidly to hold back the slew of word vomit you instinctively felt compelled to let out.

The way he held your eyes – the intensity behind his dark orbs – made you uneasy yet engrossed you all the same.

You bit down on the side of your cheek, "Are you upset that I didn't tell you?"

He shook his head suddenly as if trying to shake off his shock.

"No. I'm not."

"Are you… disappointed?" You grimaced.

You hadn't the faintest clue as to what was running around in his handsome head.

"Disappointed?" He cocked his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what the hell you're thinking right now, and it's frankly unnerving." You frowned.

The raven-haired man let out a noise that toed the line between amusement and disbelief.

"I think you owe me a toast… your highness." He teased.

Rolling your eyes, you failed to fight back a smile, bringing your champagne glass up to meet his, his smirk assuring you that whoever your aunt wished you to meet could wait a moment or two.

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milkteabinniechan · 15 days

Text

Pink Carnations

A Bridgerton Story♡

commissions // m.list

pairing: Felix Lee x female reader x Bang Chan

contents: you're all set to marry the illustrious Felix Lee but your heart belongs to another, and now the whole town knows who that is.

you can read chapter one here ♡

CHAPTER TWO

The entire room was watching you now. Their eyes pierced and pulled you apart limb from limb. Everyone in town was here. And now everyone in town had read the latest gossip.

Your sister made her way to you and gently placed her hand on your shoulder. She didn't say a word but her face told you how awful she felt for you. She was the only one who truly knew about your feelings for Chan. And she was the one who covered for you when you snuck out to meet him under the cover of darkness.

The last person to enter the room was your groom to be. He stood silent for a moment, pamphlet in hand. His pressed white suit layed perfectly across his slender frame. When he began to walk towards you, the room divided and split like The Red Sea. The only sound that could be heard was expensive shoes against fine marble floors. His eyes never left your face as he took one final step in front of you.

The room hung heavy with anticipation while wedding guests waited to see what the newly disgraced young man would say. Your breathing was beginning to become staggered as the intense grip of your corset made its presence known. All you could do was stare while you watched Felix's mouth part and open, ready to speak.

"Why is everyone just standing around?" He turned his body towards the crowd of people. "We've got a wedding to get to!" He smiled warmly and gave a knowing look to the staff, who immediately understood and began ushering people to the outside courtyard.

Felix then turned his attention to you. He leaned into the curve of your neck and whispered we need to talk. You nodded your head and allowed him to lead you into a nearby room, your Father's former study, and watched as he closed the door behind him. He stayed by the door for a few moments, gathering his thoughts and perhaps even his dignity.

"I can explai-" you began.

"Here's what is going to happen, princess," Felix's tone had changed from the sunny disposition you were used to. Your heart fluttered for an instant.

"Princess?" You snapped. You had changed your tone as well.

"We're getting married today. This union is going to be fortuitous for both of our families. It is what must be done." He spoke while adjusting his shirt collar in the mirror on the wall beside him. He checked his cufflinks and fixed his hair.

You scrunched your nose at the bluntness of his words. You knew that this was the best choice for your family. You didn't need him telling you that. You watched him adjust and fix and prim in the mirror. He truly was gorgeous. And that fact alone made your blood boil. You loved to look at him. And you worried that he knew that.

Felix turned sharply toward you. He sauntered over to you as if nothing bothered him. As though he had completely control. He stepped close to you, so close that you faltered slightly and landed against your Father's writing desk. Felix continued to lean in towards you. His face just inches from your own. His full lips parted somewhat as your chest instinctually pulled into him. You had never been this close to him before. He smelled like rain in the early morning. Your heart began to quicken.

His eyes scanned your entire body. Starting at your neck, moving down your shoulders, your waist, your hips. Ultimately landing and lingering on your face. He adjusted his footing for a moment as you noticed his pants getting tighter, and something growing. It was as if he was looking right through you. Finally he spoke.

"And if it is any consolation, Princess. You weren't my first choice either."

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang

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mimisplayground · 5 months

Text

Soft Hands and Softer Whispers ＼＼\٩(๑`^´๑)۶//／／

Tags: Soft!Ghost, Oral, Hes so sweet to you, Gentle Sex, AFTERCARE KING, domestic life, he convinces you to move in, SOFT!!, not really touched on but clingy!ghost

guys uhmmmm leave a request if u wanna see him be rough and mean :3

——————

Ghost was, by all accounts, the best sex but the worst hookup.

He knew how to leave your legs trembling and your breathing ragged, with fingerprints on your hips, neck, and jaw. He left you with a limp for days to come and he knew all the right spots to press his lips when he felt nice enough to push his mask up. The perfect mix of rough and gentle that would leave any man, woman, and inbetween falling at his feet.

He did NOT know that when the sex was over, the hookup usually left the same night or morning after. Breakfast in bed and royal treatment (because no matter what you are, he’s treating ypu like royalty after demolishing your insides), while they were all nice, they weren’t hookup behavior. Holding your hand and grunting out that you were his was sexy in bed, but felt a touch more romantic than you felt it should when he extended it to the baths he ran for you while he washed your body.

He would show up at your place after he got back from deployment everytime without fail. Spending weeks and months there while making jokes that sounded a bit too serious at times. “Just move into my place, lovely. Be nice havin’ ya around.” You giggled about it, leaving the answer in the air.

Until one day you’re watching him carry boxes into a shitty one bedroom apartment, that had little to no decorations, a key in your hand, and as he grabs his deployment, he pats your shoulder and says “give it some flare.” And with that you’re left alone for the next few months in an apartment of a hookup.

And when he came back, he showered, grabbed you up off the couch, laid you down on his bed that now had soft fluffy duvet to cover the top, and ate you out like a man starved.

He grabbed your hips when they tried to twitch away from overstimulation, and the slurps coming from him were downright sinful. You felt your eyes roll back and the knots in your stomach snap again and the liquidy burst that came from you had you blushing with tears leaving your face. “Si…quit it…” You huffed with big crocodile tears rolling down your cheeks. He climbs up and kisses away the tears for a moment, rubbing the back of your head.

And you sigh when you feel him push inside, hushed whispers of “mine, all mine, my sweet thing” chanted out of his gravelly voice. He’s so sweet and gentle with you. Rolling his hips firmly while kissing all over your face.

It was in the bathtub as he scrubbed your back that you said aloud “this seems a little too…romantic for a hookup.” There was a silence that overtook the bathroom before Ghost huffed and wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into an embrace. “We ain’t just hookin’ up anymore, are we?”

You hummed for a moment, your hand reaching back to feel his stubbly beard and lean into him. “No, I guess we aren’t just hooking up anymore.” You left a small kiss on his temple and you feel him smile.

You suppose it was fine Simon didn’t know hookup etiquette. If he did, then you wouldn’t have a boyfriend who was great at sex AND aftercare.

————-

errmmmm sry its not da usual jjk content i just luv luv luv soft ghost

anyways asks and requests AND commissions are open guys pls leave stuff for me to do

#ghost cod #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut

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ghostboneswrites2 · 27 days

Text

A Mess - Volume 2

Part 1

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Summary: Your early days in Alexandria with Daryl.

Warnings: injury, profanity, smut

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Alexandria was a hard place to get used to, and it was even harder to fit in. Not even a week in and punches had been thrown, lives had been lost, things previously swept under the rug coming to light.

While you were thankful for the walls and the luxuries within, there was nothing you heard more dear to your heart than the peaceful nights you’d spent with Daryl since your arrival.

Once your group was split into two big houses, Daryl was able to lay claim to the basement in one of them, and of course that meant you’d stay there too. With your relationship in full blossom and no longer under wraps, there was no reason not to share a room.

This particular night was one of the best so far. You’d spent most of the night fucking like rabbits, especially with access to hot running water. With bathed bodies, the possibilities and positions were endless. Nothing held you back from devouring each other like rabid beasts.

By the third round, though, you’d both become quite tired, yet still too wound up to sleep. So, you’d just lay there under the covers and chat.

“I still can’t believe Merle was your brother.” You said. “You two are so different.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t used to be. Used to be just as hot headed as him.” He recalled as his fingers wandered mindlessly through your hair. It was dark in your little basement now, with only the light of the moon casting through the small sliver of a window near the ceiling.

You propped your head up on your hand, fondly admiring your love. He fascinated you. He was always so multifaceted.

“Yeah. I could see it.” You smirked. He shot you a playful glare, not that you could see it so well in the dark.

Nights like those were hard to come by, and somehow always ended sooner than you’d like.

He yawned and slapped a heavy hand over his face, running it down the length of his chin.

“Bout time we got some sleep.” He sighed. With a pout and a groan, you rolled over on your side and got comfortable. He did the same, facing the opposite direction of you, only touching by your intertwined feet at the foot of the bed.

Things just worked this way for a while. Until, of course, shit hit the fan, which it always seemed to do.

When the Wolves attacked, a lot of lives were lost within the community. Had it not been for you and Carol, it probably would have been a lot more. Despite your knack for surviving shitty situations, you didn’t escape this one unscathed. One of the Wolves you took to bat hadn’t gone down so easily. By the time it was all over, when Daryl found you after the chaos had died down, you had a machete lodged through your arm. It went through clean enough, just barely missing anything too important. You did lose a lot of blood, though, and your arm was out of commission for over a week.

After you were all bandaged up at the infirmary, Daryl hovered over you like a cloud. Opening doors, fixing plates, tying shoes. There wasn’t a single thing he’d let you do on your own.

While it was sweet and chivalrous, it got old kind of fast. You hated being debilitated, and you hated being treated as such even more.

You figured at least a shower could be done alone and independently. You snuck off to the bathroom one afternoon and shut the door behind you, wriggling out of your clothes while the water heated up and steamed the room nicely. You took a deep breath and stepped in the hot stream, vowing to release all your frustrations as you bathed. You only had a little while longer to heal, and surely you could manage being babies for just a while longer before you snapped.

While you were trying to find your zen and enjoy some much needed solitude, Daryl had crept in the bathroom to check in and offer help. He shoved the curtain to the side. You jumped and cursed at him; “Daryl, what the fuck?”

“Shouldn’t be showerin’. Can’t get your bandage wet.” He said simply as he shut off the water. The absence of heat made you shiver. You crossed your working arm over your chest and clenched your jaw.

“Daryl. I’m capable of bathing.” You seethed. He ignored your wrathful glare and switched the flow to the faucet before he plugged the drain and motioned for you to sit down. “No.” You pouted.

“C’mon. I’ll leave ya alone after the water fills.” He told you. Reluctantly you relented and sat down, back against the far end of the tub.

He sat on the side of the tub, hunched over, waiting for the water to fill so he could leave, as promised. For a while you just stared at him angrily. Why couldn’t he let you do anything on your own? He had never been so protective before. Sure, when the situation called for it, but now? It didn’t seem like such a threat to take a shower. All these things frustrated you, yet, a faint smile still rigged at the corner of your lips.

Here was a man who had a job, and surely better things to do, yet, every second of free time he had, he dedicated to making sure you were safe and comfortable and taken care of. Had suburban life changed him so much, so fast?

“Wha’s that look for?” He finally asked, noticing your little smile.

“Nothin’.” You shrugged innocently. He turned to you and glared.

“Spit it out.” He demanded.

“It’s just.. You’re so sweet sometimes. Even when it’s annoying.” You teased.

He turned the water off as it covered your body and stood up, staring down at you. His eyes wandered over your bare skin from head to toe.

“Whatever. Jus’ don’t want ya gettin’ an infection or hurtin’ yourself any worse.”

“I can take care of myself, Daryl.” You sighed, shutting your eyes and sinking further into the warm bath while your injured arm remained above the water.

“I know.” He relented. “But that don’t mean ya can’t be taken care of sometimes.”

You opened your eyes again to find him still visually roaming over every dip and curve of your naked body. You smirked.

“Like what ya see?” You taunted in a sultry tone. He ran his tongue over his teeth.

“Don’t get no ideas. Don’t wanna hurt ya.” He said, trying to shut you down before you got him going. It was too late, though, as your free hand had already begun to trail over your breasts and down between your thighs. He watched you for a bit as you teased yourself, his mouth just slightly agape. He often found himself wondering how he bagged such a fine damsel.

As you traced a finger up and down your slit, he sighed and gave in. He crouched down beside you and dunked his hand in the water.

“Need some help?” He offered softly. You grinned and chewed on your bottom lip, pulling your hand back up to your breasts to make room for him.

He wasted no time. His hand found your mound and teased little trails up and down our slit just to watch the way you absentmindedly squirmed for his touch. He always felt a little nervous or self conscious when things started to get heated between you two, but somehow your body language always brought him back down to earth. Your movements always reminded him how badly you wanted him.

He slipped one finger inside you first, curving it and massaging while his thumb rubbed over your clit. You allowed tiny sounds to escape you, trying to be conscious of the others in the home who might be around to hear you.

When the second finger joined the first, you gasped. Your hips moved around rhythmically as they reacted to the pace at which he massaged your sensitive walls.

“Still wanna take care o’ yourself?” He whispered. “Cause I can stop.”

“No.” You whined. “Please.”

He smirked. Truth be told, your neediness was a much welcome contradiction to your irritation with him since you’d hurt your arm.

“But I thought ya—“

He went to keep teasing you but you cut him off again.

“No. No. I don’t. I want this.” You rambled breathlessly as he built you up more and more. It was like there was a coil in your lower half, winding and winding up until it was so tight you couldn’t breath.

He could tell you were getting close so he kept his movements steady.

“Sshhh..” He cooed as your sounds got a little louder. You slapped your free hand over your mouth to muffle your voice as you began to teeter over the edge. Voices could be heard outside the bathroom door as the other dwellers of the house came upstairs and got ready for bed. He could just barely make out someone asking who was in the bathroom taking so long. “Y’almost done?” He whispered. You nodded quickly, hoping he’d take you all the way before someone came knocking.

Right on cue, your eyes practically bulged out of your head as you sucked in a sharp breath. Tremors quacked through you as you let out a shaky moan into your hand. The coil had snapped, and you hadn’t cum that hard in a while.

When your high has simmered back down, he gave you a moment to collect yourself before he was helping you up and drying you down.

“Must’ve needed that.” He smirked. “That attitude o’ yours was gettin’ kinda old.”

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Masterlist // Taglist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x you #daryl x y/n

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lexsssu · 6 months

Text

Bloom (Youko Kurama)

TAGS: Youko/Dragoness!reader, pet names, cunnilingus, breeding, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

“Such a pretty little flower you have here, my dear...It’s even oozing such lascivious nectar. My, my...how lewd...”

“Nooo! Don’t look at it!!!”

“How can I not look when it’s twitching so desperately? I think the best way to make this flower bloom its most beautiful is to fertilize it. Don’t you think so?”

“Y-Youko…!”

The fox yokai only smirks in response as one of his demonic flora holds you in place with its vines, your prone naked body lifted several feet off the ground with your arms and legs spread wide. This position allowed nothing to be hidden from his view, just how he liked it.

A long finger rubs against the weeping slit, nodding in satisfaction at the abundant honey that dripped and easily coated his digit before licking it off, unwilling to allow it to go to waste when you worked so hard to produce it just for him. He enjoys the taste as much as the sight of you trembling in embarrassment as his tongue slowly laps up the fluids from his fingers.

“We can’t allow even a drop of this precious nectar to go to waste when it’s a delicacy,” he explains, placing his large hands onto your inner thighs as his thumbs land on the fleshy lips of your cunt in order to spread them wide and reveal the tender pink hole inside. “That is why I have brought it upon myself to make use of this precious commodity.”

Your protests die in your throat when the silver-haired fox proceeds to feast on your pussy like a man starved, lapping up the dripping slick before pressing his face into your twitching lips and sticking his tongue inside. Thighs trembling, you are powerless to do anything as Youko repeatedly shoved his tongue as far as it could go, scraping at the spongy walls as he swallowed down your nectar with gusto. The knot inside your lower stomach tightens impossibly with each second that passes at the mercy of the bandit until it snaps, crying out his name as he practically sucks your soul out of your body.

“Thank you for the meal, little Snapdragon. Such fine nectar you secrete…”

As much as he wanted to eat you forever, there were more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, his loins which painfully poked at his trousers in an effort to be released from their prison, eager to sink into the velvety soft heat of your warm, delicious cunt. Due to the both of you being attuned to your animalistic natures, him being a fox and you being a dragon, it was no wonder Youko was all the more aware of the heady mix of your arousal and his own in the air. Having his nose so close to your precious flower allowed him to smell the full force of your scent, enticing his body to release the long restrained urge to mate and knot a fertile female and have her bear his kits.

“...But I believe it is time for us to begin the main course”

Youko resisted the urge to purr as his vines began moving your body and setting it into the appropriate position with your chest pressed down against the piles of downy fur he’d skinned from his many successful hunts while you were propped up on your knees with legs spread wide. There was no way he was allowing the future mother of his kits to be taken roughly against the abrasive stone ground of your cave dwelling. From your scent alone he could easily tell that you were still pure, untouched by any other male which made him all the more adamant about making your first time one to remember fondly.

The rumble of his chest vibrated against your smaller back as he draped his larger body over your own, the action seemingly comforting you and yet urging you to submit at the same time. You could feel the hot and heavy cock that rubbed against your lower lips, going back and forth as it coated itself in your slick while his large hands gripped your plush waist.

“Sing for me, my pretty little flower”

A lusty moan escapes your lips when the fat head of his cock pierces into your untouched pussy, each gratifying inch slipping inside the unexplored territory until only the heavy sacs that hung below his proud length were left. There is a twinge of pain as your maidenhead was taken, but nothing your body can’t handle. Rather, your body responds enthusiastically to the intrusion, your cunt clamping down on the thick organ that spreads it wide open.

Kurama hissed at the moist sheath that seemed to happily welcome his member, nose flaring as the scent of your virgin’s blood and arousal mixed into a potent and heady mix that had him hammering into your pussy once he was sure you had adjusted to him.

The fox and the dragon continue to mate within the confines of their sealed den for the next several days, unwilling to part from each other until the male was absolutely sure that he had successfully flooded your womb with his seed and ensured the future of his lineage. Once he’d confirmed your condition, Kurama happily spent the next several days in yet another hedonistic frenzy of mating as a way to celebrate the happy event in your lives.

You had to threaten Youko to give you a break or else you’d ban him from touching you for a century.

Safe to say, he did heed your warning and finally allowed you to walk out of your den, but he made sure to hover protectively behind you all the time. Unwilling to allow any other male to get ideas about his mate.

You simply thought it was adorable.

#lexsssu writes #yu yu hakusho #yyh #yu yu hakusho kurama #youko kurama #youko kurama x reader #yu yu hakusho x reader #yyh youko x reader #crossposted on ao3

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lvis44 · 1 year

Text

Sweet Escape Pt. 6 // LH 44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, 18+ (mentions of sexual activities), Anxiety, Jealousy, Angst, Mentions of Alcohol, Regret, Emotional Turmoil, Not Edited

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Note: I felt bad leaving you all in pain, not that this will be much better but hey, we're getting there! This part is a tad shorter but I felt that this whole thing should be stand alone. The next part will be the final part of the story, but don't worry there will be an epilogue. I'm glad you have all been enjoying so far and I greatly appreciate everyone's support!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

It was nearing three in the morning when you heard your door open. The second you had arrived home you had grabbed your stuff out of Charlotte's room and moved back into your old one. You weren’t particularly in the mood to face anyone. You had spent the last few hours quietly sobbing into your knees, balled up on the bed like a child. You had seemingly run out of tears but the sorrow didn’t change. You hadn’t even heard everyone come home, somehow beating them even on foot, you assumed it was because they had to go find everyone else.

“What?” You snapped at whomever had entered your room, not even looking toward the door.

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You heard Miles’ voice from the doorway, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do I seem fucking okay?” You snapped again, your filter long gone.

He let out a sigh, closing the door behind him softly as he dared to make his way over to your bed, sitting down beside you gently.

“I’m sorry Y/N, it wasn’t fair to you to cause a scene like that.” He says softly, glancing over at you to see you staring into space, your attention fixated on the blank wall to the side of the room.

You scoff, not trying to be rude but unable to control anything that comes out of you, “Well at least one of you knows how to fucking apologize. I’m still mad at you though.”

You hear him sigh again, moving closer to you so he can place a hand on your back, rubbing softly. You don’t even have the energy to flinch away from him, just letting him rest his hand there and enjoying the slightest bit of comfort.

“I know you’re pissed at Lewis, you have every right to be. Don’t kill her but Charlotte kind of filled me in when we got home. He massively fucked up.” His hand continues it’s light circling pattern, “And truth be told so did I. I don’t know why but I constantly feel like I need to protect you and hearing that asshole call you anything other than perfect made me want to kill him, he’s honestly lucky Lewis had half a brain to pull me away from him. I know you can take care of yourself but I’m always gonna look out for you, no matter what. Hence the reason I tried to deck my best friend earlier tonight.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” You whip your head towards him, that last bit of information really catching your interest.

“Yeah, when Charlotte filled me in I was still livid with the whole situation from the bar and finding out what sparked it really pissed me off. It only felt right he get at least a swift kick to the groin. Not to disappoint you but Char stopped me. I’m shocked you didn’t hear us.” He almost sounds like he wants to laugh as he tells you, like he can’t believe the whole situation himself.

“He needs a kick to the groin, taking that thing out of commission for a little while might do everyone some good.” You joke dryly, making Miles laugh next to you.

“If you need me to do it, I’m more than willing.” He offers, only kind of a joke, you feel like if you genuinely asked him to do it, he would, given the circumstances.

“I hate that I can hate him and love him all at the same time. I don’t want to lose him, but this can’t carry on this way.” You confess to Miles.

“I know Charlotte already said this to the both of you, but you guys really need to fucking talk.” He tells you seriously, before adding, “And sober.”

“I know, I know.” You groan, “I’m sorry we’ve managed to fuck up so much of vacation.”

“It’s been much more him than you sweetheart, he brought every ounce of drama himself. I could tell something was up with you over the last few days but I couldn’t really figure out what. I’m sorry it’s him.” Miles brings you in for a side hug, his arm wrapping protectively around you.

“I’m just so fucking sick of it all. I’m so tired.” You tell him, leaning against his shoulder.

“I know, understandably so.” Miles lets out a sigh, holding you in silence for a few moments. “You get some sleep and I’ll check on you in the morning, okay?” He says as he presses a kiss to your temple.

All you do is nod, knowing he’s right.

“I know you’re not all good or anything, but I’m glad you're still here. I was worried you were gonna be at the airport by the time we got home, we freaked for a second when we saw your stuff wasn’t in Charlottes anymore.” He tells you quietly, still not having let you go.

“I just didn’t want to have to face anyone, figured moving back to my old room would be the easiest way.” You just about whisper, feeling your exhaustion catch up to you.

“Well, I’m sorry to have intruded, but I needed to check on you,” Miles says, kissing your forehead one more time before easing you back toward your pillows, “get some sleep hun.”

. . .

You had no idea what time it was when you finally woke up and you have no idea how long you’ve been laying in your bed staring at the ceiling. It has to have been a good hour at this point. You can hear people moving around somewhere in the house, the last thing you want to do is go and interact. You were embarrassed, angry, hurt, and so much more you couldn’t even wrap your head around. You’ve had enough. As you’ve been laying there, more than once you’ve contemplated if you could manage to pack your stuff and sneak out of the house, fly back home without another word. You knew you couldn't and more than likely someone would come track you down the second they knew you were gone, well normally they would. You don’t know what your friends know of the situation. How much did everyone else see, how much had they been told? You knew you should get up and eat something but you had no appetite, anxiety and dread having taken over your body. You lay there going through your thoughts for more than an hour. You want to sit down and talk with Lewis, you need to, but the anxiety of the possible outcome is paralyzing you. What if he confirms your fears, admits that all he’s ever been trying to do is get it your pants? What if now that you’ve shut him down he doesn’t see a reason to keep you around anymore? The rational part of your brain knows that you're overthinking, that your friendship with Lewis still stands on semi solid ground. Maybe there will be some change to how he is around you or how often he’s with you but at the base of it all your still close friends. Lewis knows things about you that your own family doesn’t, he’s been able to read you better than you can read yourself on more than a few occasions, all of that can’t go up in smoke this quickly. Can it?

There’s a soft knock on your door, making you groan. You don’t respond hoping they’ll go away. They don’t, only knocking again and gently pushing the door open. You roll your head to the side, seeing Miles peeking his head into your room, a comforting smile on his face. True to his word, here he was to check on you.

“Good morning,” He says softly, making his way into your room once he sees you’re awake, “I brought you something to eat, you need to get something in you.”

You give him a small smile as he places a tray of fruit and a large glass of ice water on the table next to your bed.

“Thanks.” You croak out, your voice hoarse from crying all night.

“Everybodies in their rooms for the most part if you need to venture out of hiding at any point.” He tells you, knowing you’ve been avoiding everyone, but one person in particular.

You just nod, taking a small sip of the cold water. It feels amazing on your burning throat, as if it’s your first drink of water after a month in the desert.

“What time is it?” You ask, trying to get some bearing on where you are in your life, even if it's just the time of day.

He glances down at the watch on his wrist, “Just before noon.”

It’s still earlier than you thought it was at this point and it fills you with a small sense of dread, there’s so much more of the day to go about trying to avoid everyone.

“You know no ones mad at you, right?” Miles makes sure you know that there’s no hostility facing you in the house.

You just shrug, unsure of how true that actually is and also not quite wanting to admit that it’s more so that you’re embarrassed to even see your friends. There’s another soft knock on the door and you're praying it’s Charlotte, the only other person you could bare being around right now. Much to your dismay, a very tired looking Lewis pokes his head around the door that Miles had left ajar. Your breath hitches, anxiety filling your body.

“Oh, shit, sorry, I’ll um-” Lewis stutters, not wanting to interrupt your chat with Miles.

“All good man, I was just gonna head out anyway.” Miles says, standing from where he had sat on your bed.

You know Miles can sense your anxiety but he gives you a look that says “just get it over with” and heads towards the door. Before he exits he turns back toward you and says “Holler for me if you need anything, alright?”

He whispers something to Lewis as he walks out and you can see a pained expression on Lewis’ face at whatever he said. Once he’s gone, Lewis stands awkwardly in the doorway, not quite being able to look at you as he plays with his hands down in front of him.

“You can come in.” You squeak, not actually fully wanting to say it but knowing it needs to be done.

He finally looks at you, putting his hand on the door as if to close it but you can see the question in his eyes. You nod, not wanting your whole conversation to be heard by everyone in the house. He very gently pushes the door closed, making his way further into your room. He looks around, evidently unsure of what to do with himself. He opts for perching on the edge of your dresser just across from where you sit on the bed, you’re facing each other and you can feel your stomach filling with butterflies, but not the good kind you usually get when you’re around him.

“I owe you an apology, well, multiple apologies.” He finally says, looking down at the ground, ashamed. His voice is hoarse as if he’s just woken up.

You don’t say anything, unsure of what you would even say.

“I’m sorry for the way that I’ve treated you. I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner. I’m sorry that my company embarrassed you in front of everyone. I’m sorry for my behavior last night, all of it. I’ve treated you in a way that if anyone else did the same to you, I would hate them.” He finally apologizes for the last few days, finally looking at you as he does so.

He looks exhausted, much older than usual with bags under his eyes and more scruff than you're used to him allowing.

“Thank you,” you whisper, “and I’m sorry I avoided talking to you too.”

He shakes his head, “It shouldn’t have been on you to fix, I’m the one that fucked up.”

You offer a small smile in his direction. All is not immediately forgiven and this conversation needs to continue, but hearing him acknowledge the reasons he needed to apologize in the first place does your heart some good at the very least.

“Why did you do it?” You ask quietly, your voice timid, not sure you truly want the answer.

He looks surprised by the question, also not quite sure how to respond. He lets out a sigh as he collects his thoughts.

“I know it doesn’t make it right,” He starts, pausing for a moment to make sure his words come across as clearly as possible, “but, it’s been on my mind for a long time. I’m well aware that I went about it all wrong, especially last night, I was incredibly out of line last night, but I’ve thought about it alot.” He cringes at his admission.

You furrow your brow, worried this is going exactly the direction you feared, hoping he will continue.

“I don’t mean for that to sound creepy, but I’ve been really attracted to you for quite a while. I should have made that clear in a much different way. I never want you to feel like I’m trying to take advantage of you in any way, it makes me sick to think that I have ever made you feel like that.” He says, a look of regret on his tired face.

“What I said last night was harsh, my drunk brain just felt like it was the best way to get my point across.” You admit to him.

“But it wasn’t really that harsh, despite it not being intentional, it’s kind of true. What I said on the other hand, that was harsh, I never should have called you a tease or said you indulged in it, it wasn’t fair.” His words are firm, for the first time he’s holding steady eye contact with you, demanding your attention so you feel the remorse in his words.

“I need to be honest, it really hurts that you’re able to treat me like all the other girls you fuck around with, I thought I was more important to you than them.” You quietly admit to him.

“Fuck, you are. So much more important to me.” He says, finally moving from where he’s been leaning on your dresser and cautiously making his way toward where you sit on your bed. He carefully sits next to you, leaving a good distance but making sure he’s near you.

“Then how can you be so okay with chatting up the bar tender, grinding on some random woman, and then still come over and try to fuck me, yet again. All because your ego couldn’t handle me dancing with someone else, when you were doing exactly the same.” You push, needing him to truly understand just how shitty his actions made you feel.

“You’re right, I was jealous. In my ideal world you would have been dancing with me all night, but I knew you wouldn’t have allowed that where we were in our relationship. And then you found that prick and the way you were with him, it just set something off in me. I wasn’t thinking. I know that sounds like a horrible excuse but there was part of me that was hoping I could make you just as jealous as I was, not that you would be when you’ve made it clear you’re not interested, and I should have respected that. Between the alcohol and my ego, I let myself treat you like shit and there’s no excuse for that, I would take it back in a heartbeat if I could.” His face is sincere, you can tell just how much he regrets last night but it doesn’t automatically let him off the hook. He continues “And as for the bartender, I wasn’t chatting her up, she’s an old friend. I’ve never slept with her and never will, she’s like family. I got distracted talking with her and by the time I found you again you had that Jason dude on your hip.”

You want to laugh, not only at him forgetting Jadens name, but also at him saying you’re not interested. He has every right to assume you’re not, you’ve done nothing but turn him down. You almost want to tell him just how wrong he is, how the only reason you said no is because you don’t want to lose him, but right now is not the time for that, you don’t want to open any windows and derail the conversation that so far is going shockingly well, even if it hurts.

“Is she the woman you went to after your fight with Talia?” You push him slightly, hoping to get more out of him while he’s being so honest with you.

His face screws up for a second, confused how you would know that. You see the questioning look on his face and rush to clarify, to confess.

“I know you lied to me that night, or at least I kind of hope you did. I overheard you and Charlotte talking the next morning, something about a woman named Marina.” You explain.

He lets out a deep sigh, “Yeah, I’m sorry I lied to you. I wasn’t particularly in the mood to explain the whole situation. But to answer your question, yes, that is the woman that I went and saw.” He doesn’t offer any further explanation, you want to push him but you allow him to leave it at that, at least for now.

You both sit in silence for a moment, trying to figure out where to go from here.

“Lewis,” You say quietly, getting his attention, “I don’t want to lose you.”

His face morphs into absolute sorrow and pain, for a moment you worry that he’s mourning your friendship, not knowing how to break the news to you.

“Y/N, you’ll never lose me. I would go crazy without you.” His voice is soft but sincere as he carefully scoots closer to you on the bed, testing the waters slightly. You let him get close enough that your knees are touching, his hand coming to rest over yours, squeezing tightly.

“How do you think I could ever let you go?” He asks with a deep frown.

“Because you seemed to be okay with ruining our friendship just to get me in your bed.” You accuse him, your voice wavering.

“Sweetheart, I was never trying to ruin our friendship, I-” He takes a long pause, gathering himself with a deep breath, “I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but truth be told, me trying to get you into bed was never just me trying to sleep with you. It’s been a long time since I felt for someone how I feel for you and I’m not good at making that clear. I don’t even truly understand everything that I feel for you but, I know it’s a whole lot more and a whole lot different than how I feel about all of my other friends. I guess somewhere in my head I felt like I could get that across physically, that maybe it would make everything make sense once I had you. I know it sounds ridiculous but I don’t know how to do this.”

His confession both shocks and confuses you, your mind flitting back to the night he disappeared after his fight with Talia. That night he had told you that he had feelings for her, now he was trying to convince you of his feelings for you.

“What about Talia?” You ask, voice still unsure.

“What about Talia?” He throws back at you, confused as to why she matters right now.

“The night that we talked, after your fight, you told me you were worried that you had messed everything up with someone that you cared about or liked a lot, I don’t remember exactly what you said but…” You trail off, a slow moment of realization coming over you.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he looks down at the ground before returning his eyes to yours, “Y/N, I was talking about you. In no universe was I ever even considering Talia.” His words confirm what you’ve just realized and you want to slap yourself, you feel like an idiot.

“I- oh my god.” You breathe out, shutting your eyes. His eye contact suddenly feeling like too much.

You stand from the bed, disconnecting your hand from his. He stays seated, looking up at you as you begin to pace, letting you process what he’s said.

“How long?” You ask suddenly, stopping and looking at him.

“In all honesty, I don’t really know. I only really realized it sometime last year. I was thinking it would go away, that it was just some silly crush, but it just kept getting worse.” He explains, shrugging his shoulders as if it’s totally normal.

“So all the time that you were sleeping with all these other women and still flirting with me was, what?” You feel yourself getting agitated, not quite sure how to feel about his actions.

“I kind of figured that if I kept sleeping around that I would be satisfied and I wouldn’t feel the same way, but I couldn't help but keep flirting with you, it’s just naturally how I am with you, it feels right.” Once again he shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“Do you not want to feel this way about me?” You ask quietly, a slight sting of rejection settling over you.

“No, no, that’s not it at all.” He rushes out, standing to approach you, carefully he puts his hands on your arms, making you look at him, “It’s not at all that I don’t want to feel this way about you, I’m glad I do to be completely honest. It’s just that I’ve been single for a very long time and I truly do not want to fuck this up, I’m scared that I’m going to and I’m going to lose you. It felt like everything would be so much easier if I could just keep being your friend and keep you in my life. But that didn’t happen, I still managed to fuck it up.”

You can feel tears forming in your eyes, he notices them too, a look of regret on his face.

“So what do you want?” You ask him, needing more clarity.

“All in all, I want you, I want to do this with you and god I want to not fuck it up. I want you to be mine, all mine, all in.” He says confidently, much more sure of himself than you feel.

You stare at him as the tears start to roll down your cheeks, your emotions are at an all time high. Part of you is filled with pure ecstasy, the man that you have crushed on for years is standing here in front of you confessing his feelings, asking you to be his. The other part of you is filled with absolute fear, the thought of trying and failing with him, losing one of the most amazing men you have ever met, your best friend. You know that a life with Lewis could either end in the most beautiful love you have ever experienced or the worst, most gut wrenching heartache known to man.

“Can I hug you? You look like you could use it.” His voice is soft, his heart aching as he watches you cry.

All you can do is nod as you let yourself fall into his hard chest. He holds you against him tightly, rubbing soft circles on your back as he once again lets you cry into his chest. You’ve done this too many times in the last twenty four hours. He stays silent, just letting you work through your emotions. When you finally calm down you pull your head from his chest but he keeps you tight against him, one of his hands coming up to wipe some remaining tears from your cheek. You revel in the feeling of his touch, how comforting a simple action can be. As you stare into his eyes you can see how much emotion and affection is hidden behind them. A soft, sad smile across his lips.

“What’s going through that beautiful mind?” He asks, his voice just above a whisper.

“I don’t know.” You tell him honestly.

He just nods, understanding how overwhelmed you must be.

“I need time, I need to think.” You say, averting your eyes from his, knowing you’ll say yes if you look into them for a moment too long.

“Take all the time you need, I’ll always be right here if you decide you’ll have me.” He says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he gives you another proper hug.

He finally steps away from you, leaving you feeling displaced in your own room, before he turns to leave he grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly, “And Y/N, no matter what you decide, you will never lose me. I will always be right here.” With that he leaves the room, leaving you behind with a whirlwind of thoughts.

As much as every part of you wants to believe him in saying he’ll never leave you, you can’t help but wonder if it’s fully true. If you try this and all of it comes crashing down, you can’t imagine being able to be around him.

Is the possibility of loving and being loved by the most incredible human being worth the possibility of losing him entirely?

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zzzuppo · 3 months

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agahagahh what am i doing🙏

i kinda got bored and i wanna do itto headcanons☺️ (not exactly a headcanon idk)

gn!reader

SO. we're talking about the sweetest, handsomest, funniest and sometimes most annoyingest boy in INAZUMA!!

ARATAKI ITTO !!! (but he likes u and u dont know it... maybe)

we r gonna b talking abt how he acts around inazuma when ur right by his side cause ur his right-hand man yk and he needs you by his side cause he genuinely can't do everything by himself even if he says so

every morning itto likes to bring u crimson staff, his beetle battle warrior (it's a poor excuse just to talk to you)

he talks as if he won beetle fights (when in reality, u won the fights for him. he just wont admit it because he'd hurt his pride if he did)

when going to restaurants, he's gonna make u do a taste test just to make sure that there aren't any beans. what a nightmare.

he actually just wants u to taste it first cause he likes ur reaction to the flavors (he's not stupid enough to order food with beans)

he's such a sweet boy, he'll protect you even if ur just walking on a perfectly safe road

like, he'd suddenly jump in front of u at the sound of leaves rustling or a twig snapping

he would adventure with u, looking for onikabutos and then would say “(name), look, look!! i found an onikabuto instead of some stupid lavender melon!!” and then would proceed to say he's the best onikabuto hunter in all of inazuma

you actually just put the onikabuto there cause u felt kinda bad that he keeps finding lavender melons

when the two of u got some alone time together, he would take advantage of that and would take you to his special and favorite spot in inazuma city, hoping that you'd like his favorite place too

eventually, it became a little ritual of the both of u to visit his favorite spot whenever the gang was away

in return, you brought him to your favorite spot as well, giving a breathtaking view of... of i-dont-know-where, but definitely a stunning sight

itto swore he felt his heart explode into millions and billions and trillions of butterflies when you brought him to your favorite spot, and that made him feel special

we are getting sidetracked

when he and his gang are together, itto is very, very chaotic, always suggesting something dangerous that could possibly get the tenryou commission involved

well.. that's only until you're around. he gets very shy (sometimes)

when you're with him and his gang, he's suddenly calmer, only suggesting activities such as playing hide and seek, looking for onikabuto together and beetle fighting

and he'd often make up fake stories to impress you, and it works like a charm

when you're away for longer than an hour, he'll start whining to shinobu, complaining about how it's so lonely and gloomy and depressing without you

and if you catch him in the middle of his crocodile sobbing and he'd see you, he'll get embarrassed but will cheer up nonetheless, talking about how it's been ages since he'd last seen you

sometimes, when you're away, his gang (mostly akira) would immediately start talking about how itto should already confess to you, causing the others to agree

of course, itto would get far too flustered and would immediately turn down their suggestions in fear of rejection “oh, what? h- pssh, no! nonononono NO! they aren't gonna like me back, no! (name) already thinks im annoying enough!!”

the gang would just roll their eyes. they know and you know that you like itto, too

at some point, they'd managed to convince itto into confessing his feelings for you, saying that someone else would steal your heart and that he'd lose his chance

god knows how itto managed to believe them in spite of their very obvious dramatics

“c'mon, boss! y'gotta tell 'em at some point,” exclaimed an agitated mamoru, following an obviously anxious oni around as he paced back and forth in an obviously nervous manner. in the background, akira could be seen catching a fainting genta in his arms. shinobu merely watched in slight amusement.

akira said something incoherent, followed by genta who nodded along in agreement, so mamoru decided to mimic genta's movements. “uh-huh, what akira said!”

with pursed lips, itto stopped dead in his tracks and placed his fists on his hips, feigning a look of false determination. “yeah... yeah! i'll confess to (name)! in fact, i'll confess to them right now!” at that, his gang cheered (with only shinobu sighing in exasperation).

it actually took a while for itto to muster up enough courage to meet you.

the oni genuinely didn't know where you were so he merely roamed the streets of inazuma, whistling a tune in hopes of easing his nerves.

but then he saw you, making him panic and have a mini heart attack. itto had half a mind to jump into a bush and hide instead of confronting his feelings.

when you looked at him, he wanted to turn back time because he's already regretting agreeing to his gang.

“hey, itto.” you greeted him casually with a small wave of your hand, a bit concerned with how his face is so red but decided to just ignore that altogether.

itto, in the meantime, was panicking and geeking out at the same time. he wanted to giggle, to scream, to pull his hair, to kick his feet like an absolutely infatuated middle school girl, but he also wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“h.. hi...” he mumbled shyly, which is quite unusual. your brows furrowed and you began to grow a bit more concerned. “are you okay? y'don't look too good.” you murmured, sounding incredibly concerned.

inhaling deeply, he gathered what little confidence he had left, and blurted out his feelings in one breath. “ilikeyousomuchithinkaboutyouallthetimeandyou'resofunnyandprettyandamazingandfunandhonestlyyou'rethebestpersonininazumacauseidon'tknowwhereiwouldbeifihadn'tmetyou—”

you hastily cut him off, which was a good thing because he might waste all of his breath just to tell you something. “wait, wait, slow down! don't just.. i can't understand you like that. can ya' say that again?”

the oni immediately went silent, clasping his hands in front of him in a polite manner as he stared at you awkwardly.

“um,” he started in a meek voice, averting his eyes from your pretty ones. when he looked back at you, his face turned as red as his makeup (if that was even possible) and he looked away again.

eventually, he sighed and decided to just say it. this time, he was bold enough to meet your gaze. “i like you, (name). i've always liked you.” itto stated quietly, then pursed his lips, anxiously waiting for your response.

you merely stared at him in shock, then started laughing in disbelief. the sweet, sweet oni was caught off guard and looked at you, then pouted. “don't laugh. i'm actually being serious here.” he said sternly. but your laughter and smile was so infectious that he couldn't help himself and smile as well, a quiet chuckle escaping him.

you soon calmed from your laughter, then gave him a huge smile, your face also turning a bit red. “i like you too, itto.”

at your words, he wanted to just “AAAAAHHHOH MY GOD. THEY LIKE ME. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OHMYGOD.”

BONUS:

giggling and laughing and smiling, itto brought you to a secluded area, then plucked out a pretty looking flower from a bush and put it on your head cause he didn't know how to put it behind your ear.

“you're as pretty as the flower,” commented your sweet boy, his bright smile accentuating his blushing cheeks.

your face reddened a bit and you smiled softly. “and you're as handsome as the sun.”

normally, that would've stroked his ego.

but instead, he's geeking out, squealing and running away and running back to you, only to run away and jump up and down like a kid.

he's a silly guy, but he's your silly guy.

ok guys bye thats the end of the video make sure to like and subscribe

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanart #headcanon #genshin itto #arataki itto #itto #itto x reader #☆⋆｡𖦹°‧

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villainshoe · 11 months

Text

cw: childhood to lovers, penis in vagina, brat taming, spanking, praise (good girl, princess, love), knot, heat, creampie, multiple orgasm, overstimulation, age up collage!bakugou katsuki, pining, afab!reader, edging, no proofread, marking, omegaverse

Summary: y/n was on a horrible date and she happen to entered her heat and she called the one person she would trust with this.

author note: this was commissioned by a friend in a sever. If you want one please dm me and we can discuss prices! Read more under the cut

Katsuki didn’t know what to do when he got a frantic call from his best friend y/n about needing an escape from a bad date. He hated it when she went on dates considering he’s been trying to court her everyday since 8th grade of middle school and it’s now senior year of collage. He could hear panic in her voice, so he quickly jumped up and got pants and a hoodie on, grabbing his keys. “Hey, stay where you are at and I’ll come get you.” He said to her as he heard her whimper out okay.

By the time he was dressed he was halfway out the door. He got into his car and drove to the place she was at. Of course it was a locally run restaurant. He got out and walked into the restaurant but was smack hard in the face with the stench of an omega in heat, he paled at the thought of it being her. He rushes towards the bathroom, he knocks on the door quickly, wanting to know if she was alright. “Come in ‘Suki.” He heard the scared timid voice of his childhood best friend’s sister. He walked in and smelt her even more clearly now, it was making his alpha wanna claim her, to mate her. He shook his head and pulled her up from her sitting position with her knees pulled up to her chest and had her head buried in them.

“‘Suki! What are you doing, you don’t need to manhandle me!” y/n said and let him pull her up anyway knowing she had asked for his help. What she didn’t expect was to be scented by him rubbing himself against her cheek and both arms. “I’m not manhandling you.” He said and put his jacket on her to keep more of his scent on her.

“I’m making sure no one will touch you. As your friend it’s my job to protect you.” He simply said and his alpha was purring at the thought of her being covered in his scent. But that disappeared when y/n shrugged off the jacket he had put on her, causing him to growled but took the jacket back and sighs softly. “I don’t need to be scented to be safe with you here ‘Suki.” She said, causing him to pin her against the wall outside of the bathroom. “You’ll listen to me closely, I do because you’re in heat so you know you’re not safe without scent patches or representations.” He snapped at her.

Y/n shrinks slightly and bites her lip to not give in to her omega who wants to please him, but she was stubborn so she bared her teeth at him which made him growled and stare down at her when she didn’t back down. So putting his jacket back on, he threw her over his shoulders, thankful she was wearing skinny jeans. He walked out to his car and placed her in the front seat, he buckled her in but not before she bit his hand, growling and hissing at him.

“I don’t need a babysitter!” She snapped at him once more, he growled and got into the driver side and drove off. He bites his tongue to make sure he didn’t stop somewhere random and fuck her stupid right there and then. “Obviously you do, you called me to pick you up to save you from creep! I told you he was just wanting a omega to fuck and you were that omega.” Bakugou said and pulled into the dorm garage. He got out and picked her up bridal style, carrying her to her bedroom all the while trying not to mate her. He wants to do this right, court her with gifts, scent blankets and hoodies and flowers. All that to have her as his mate, but smelling her in heat was kicking up his rut earlier then it supposed to be.

He drops her on the bed and prepares to go get her food when she grabs him, he looks down at her with a curious lift of his brow. “Please, stay.” She said the words that were in his head every time he had to go get her. “I can’t deal with fuck up thing alone Katsuki.” She said and he growled, turning around and forced her to look at him. “First thing first, it’s alpha if I’m going to help.” He hissed out as she began to rub at his crotch, he swatted her hand away, smirking to himself. “You’re not allowed to touch, if you do you’ll get ten spankings, and you should do as you’re told.” He said, causing her to whine but nodded her head. “Good omega, now, take off your clothes slut, let me see your beautiful body.” He commanded which she automatically listened to as she undressed herself, showing off her curves and the one thing he wanted to taste right now, her beautiful pussy.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs widely.” He said but y/n smirked and closed her legs, not letting him see her cute little pussy. He growled and kneel on the bed. “Open your legs… now.” Bakugou growled out causing her to whimper and kept her legs close to see what he’ll do. But the gasped let out from her pretty red stain lipstick caused him to smirk when he had her bind over his leg. “Now count to ten then I’ll reward you.” With every strike against her ass, she counted each one but tears were beginning together in her eyes as the strikes got harder, leaving both cheeks red and sore. “Ten!” She cried out as he struck her left cheek once more.

He let her get back on the bed, but spread her legs this time. He looked at how it glistened in the moonlight, he laid down on his stomach so he could have a closer look at her quivering hole. He leaned in and ran his tongue up from her hole to her clit, moaning at the taste, he attached his lips to her clit, sucking on it before circling two fingers around her entrance. He moved away when he heard her cry out for more. “Patient, I’ll give you more.” He replied as he attached his mouth back on her, sucking and nipping at her clit, letting his two fingers enter her and began to pump them in and out. He could feel her walls clenched around his fingers making him harder so he began to grind against the mattress, her hand in his hair as she tried to stay in the present of our bliss.

“Alpha! More please?” She cries out as he sped up his fingers, hitting the perfect spongy spot in her causing her to see stars, her walls squeezing his fingers tighter, he pulled his fingers away as she cried out in disappointment but gasped in delight as he cover her pussy with his mouth and using his tongue to prod to at her entrance before he slip it in, a finger on her clit rubbing in time with his tongue thrusting in her leaking hole. “Alpha I’m going to cum!” She cries out and he sped up his rubbing at her clit, licking at her entrance once she started to come undone on his tongue and fingers.

After a few minutes he pulled away noticing she was becoming overstimulated, he got off of the bed and got undressed his cock slapped his lower abdomen. “Now since you’ve been a good girl, I’ll give you a reward.” He said with a soft smile as he placed her legs over his shoulders and lined himself up with her. “Are you ready?” He asked, making y/n nod her head. “Yes, Alpha, I’m ready.” That’s all he needed to hear as he slid in until he bottomed out, grunting how tight she was. “Fuck, so tight for me princess.” He growled out, pulling out until the tip of his head was in. Before she could whine, he slams back in, grunting as he does so. “Fuck, alpha, feels so good.” She whines and he begins a slow but steady pace, gripping her hips tightly.

“Fuck so good love.” He praised as he kept thrusting in and out of her, rubbing at her clit, feeling her walls trying to suck him in deeper he folded her in half and began to pound into her. “Alpha! I’m gonna cum!” She cried out again before he stopped ripping her out of another orgasm. “Why? I was good! I was really good!” She felt tears in her eyelashes. “You’re not allowed to cum until I say so.” He said and thrust into her again, but a very slow pace was set, the thumb on her clit rubbing slow figure eights on it. He could feel her walls sucking him back in and he could get used to it. He quickly bends to her neck and bites harshly on her scent gland, marking her his forever, his omega no matter what.

He sucks on the bite as he feels her walls quiver around him, her scent turning into the smell of them both, turning him on more than he thought it would, knowing this he wasn’t going to last long, so he begin to thrusts sloppily and rub her clit in sloppy fashion, cause her to cry out loudly. He growled and bites on her shoulder harshly to stop his, as he did so he could feel her tighten up. “I’m gonna cum!” She screamed out and with one last thrust he felt her come undone alongside of him, his knot swell inside of her. Connect them together for at least an hour until the swelling goes down. “I love you Alpha.” y/n said, causing Bakugou to smile the rare smile reserved just for her. “I love you too omega.” He said as they both fell asleep for a nap.

#bnha bakugou #bakugou x you #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki fluff #bakugou katsuki angst #tw: omegaverse #bakugou katsuki smut #💥.bakugou katsuki fic

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bettyfrommars · 11 months

Text

I'm on Fire

Part 13: This Heart is Haunted

18+Only, mature content, angst, reader is being stalked, mention of physical & emotional abuse, biker MC, unprotected sex, sex with someone other than reader, exes are everywhere, mention of battling cancer, home invasion, tarot reading, spiritual guidance, mention of a gun, mention of taking someone's life, hurt & comfort. wc: 8.6k

Masterlist Playlist

Summary: Reader and Eddie are very much in love as the world piles on again. Both of their exes are in town, and Craig leaves a disturbing calling card to let reader know he is watching. Steve is properly introduced to Charlene in more ways than one, Astrid tries to protect Steve in the best way she knows how, and we get a peek into what Wayne "Uncle" Munson is thinking

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"Wendy let me in, I wanna be your friend I want to guard your dreams and visions Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims And strap your hands across my engines."

Born to Run - Bruce Springsteen

I'm on Fire Part 13: This Heart is Haunted

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John Gregson sent you a generous down payment for his commissioned painting, and most of it went right to the art store with you to by a roll of canvas, new paints, and brushes. Eddie went with you, and insisted on driving your car, but not before he had to adjust the driver’s seat all the way back so that he wasn’t eating his knees. He found a paint-by-numbers color pack of a dragon for Oliver, and crept up behind you, pretending to be someone else.

“Excuse me, miss? You are so fine,” he whispered in the sketchbook aisle. “Are you single, by chance?”

You checked to each side of you, feigning to look for him. “There’s this one guy I fuck from time to time, but it’s not serious.”

“Oh, is that right?” Eddie tickled your ribs, and then picked you up off your feet, munching down on the side of your neck with his teeth. “You better take it back.”

“You’re gonna get us kicked out,” you wiggled free with a laugh that seemed to echo off of the store walls, shoes squeaking on the linoleum.

Eddie wouldn’t let you carry anything on the way out to the car, and you did not miss some of the feminism that left your body in that moment as he held one of the bags in his teeth. The canvas roll was almost too long for the back seat, and you had a moment of panic, but then Eddie figured it out, clapping for himself after and taking a small bow.

The big, scary biker with the tattooed hands and the War Machine insignia kindly reminded you to fasten your seat belt, just as he clicked on his own and slipped his sunglasses on.

“I don’t know, Munson,” you grinned into the sun as he backed out of the parking space. “You’ve been such a help today, there might be some roadhead on the menu.”

He slammed the brakes and snapped his head to look at you, his hair flying, making you get the giggles. “See, now you’ll have to forget I said anything. I want it to be a surprise.”

He continued backing out, checking over his shoulder. “Surprise roadhead could kill a man, baby. You gotta give me some warning.”

So far, it had been the most chill day since before you’d been fired. You were sinking into the routine of “normal” couples, doing mundane chores together, holding hands in public, being sickeningly, adoringly head over heels for each other. And it felt really good. So good, in fact, you could almost forget for a second about all of the shit that had gone wrong, and could possibly go wrong.

Much earlier that morning as you lay curled up naked next to him in bed with your leg over him and your head on his chest, listening to a song by Mother Love Bone pour out softly from the stereo in Eddie’s apartment, he asked what you were thinking.

You’d been quiet for a while, zoning out, touching your fingertips to his as he spread them out to meet yours across the menacing bat tattoo on his chest.

“It’s silly,” you mumbled, kissing his shoulder with the side of your mouth. The morning was warm with a soft breeze blowing one of the long, blue curtains out into the room, and above the sound of the music came the rumble of motorcycles rolling into the compound, and electric drill firing in the garage across the way.

“Still,” he rested his head on yours. “I want to hear it. I want to know what goes on in that quirky brain of yours.”

As comfortable as you were with Eddie at that point, you were shy about admitting some of your deep-seated insecurities. What if you spoke them out loud and they came true? What if you started to let him know what went on in your “quirky”, anxiety riddled brain, and it scared him off?

You decided to take a chance, burying your face a bit more in the indentation of his armpit. “In the past, whenever I've felt genuine happiness, or everything seemed to be going really well, that’s always when everything would go to shit. So, I have this fear that—”

“---that you’re going to lose me?” Eddie interrupted softly, sliding his fingers down to intertwine with yours.

“Well, yeah,” you admitted. “Exactly that. Losing you, or something happening to Katie or Steve’s family. Anyone I care about.”

“The same shit happens to me in my head,” he promised. “It almost won’t let me enjoy whatever good thing is happening because I’m already thinking about how it could get fucked up. I’m always anticipating the next bad thing.”

“We are a sad pair,” you snorted a laugh.

“Hey, really though, listen to me,” he squeezed you tighter. “You’re not going to lose me, baby, fuck that. As long as we tell each other what is going on and we don’t have any secrets, no one can fuck with us. I won’t let anyone fuck with us.”

You propped up on your forearm to meet his eyes; they were bright brown and earnest. You swept his bangs to the side with your fingertips. “Well, that’s good to know because I don’t think I’d survive this level of heartbreak.”

“I won’t ever break your heart,” Eddie searched your face, running his knuckle down your cheek. “And if you break mine, I’ll probably sulk around for the rest of my life, just a shell of a man, playing songs on the street corner for loose change.”

You chuckled and scooted closer to kiss his mouth. “What are the deal breakers for you in a relationship? Something you could never forgive?”

He squinted curiously at you. “Are you trying to walk that line, sweetheart?”

“No,” you bit your lip through a smile, but then dropped your head back to the warm skin of his shoulder. “My deal breaker is cheating. I can forgive a lot of things, but never that.”

Eddie took a big inhale, thinking about this, but then he swallowed hard. “Just the thought of another man touching you, past or present, makes me see red, baby.”

There was a tension in the air as Eddie considered the crushing weight of said betrayal, and you bit at a piece of skin on your thumb, thinking about the complex inner workings of Eddie Munson.

To break the heavy silence, you started crawling on top of him, kissing his neck, working your core against his stiff morning wood. Eddie held your face and sucked at your bottom lip, running his tongue along the soft skin there, while you pressed the slick of your slit on his cock, arousal already evident.

“Would you really kill someone for me, baby?” You breathed, reminded of how he said he would kill or die for you.

“Without question,” he hissed at your wetness, reaching down to line the tip of his cock up with your entrance.

You sank down quickly, needing all of him with fluttering urgency. “When I think of someone, I will let you know,” you hushed. He cursed into your mouth and spanked your ass as you rode him, knowing that this was the only cock you would have inside of you for the rest of your life, and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Back in the sunny parking lot outside of the art supply store, Eddie continued on behind the wheel, pausing for a group of people as they strolled into he store, hand on your leg, squeezing your knee as he waited. He angled the car down in front of a clothing store, on his way to exit onto the street, and had to wait for a couple more people to cross.

You weren’t paying attention, too absorbed at the time pawing through the bag of goodies in your lap, fingering the new pastels and linseed oil with glee. But Eddie’s fingers dug into your leg and gripped there in a way that made you glance over at him.

Waiting at the crosswalk, Eddie’s skin drained of color as he watched the people pass in front of the car. You followed his attention: there was an older woman, perhaps 50, two younger girls maybe ages 7 or 8, a pretty blonde girl around 30, and a woman who could have been a supermodel with long, auburn hair, a short denim skirt, and a dragon tattoo on her thigh.

Your attention rose to Eddie and his nostrils flared, blinking a few times, teeth grinding.

For whatever reason, the tension made you nervous. “Baby, what is it? What’s wrong? Do you know them?”

Eddie swallowed, patting your leg a few times, forcing a smile that did not reach his eyes. “It’s nothing sweetheart. I just remembered something I had to do later on, that’s all.”

Not even a full day had passed since you’d both agreed to never to keep anything from each other, and there he was, lying already. He knew that you could tell he was withholding something, which made it even worse. His hope at the time was, if he ignored it, maybe it would go away.

Somehow, Melanie coming into town had almost slipped his mind, until he saw her there with his very own eyes walking with Chrissy, her mom, and her twin daughters. She looked different, but also exactly the same. The difference was that he no longer found her attractive; she might as well of had rotting flesh rolling off her bones for how repulsed he was to see her there in the street. He wasn’t afraid to tell you, he just didn’t want it to be real, he wanted to ignore her until she left town, and you could live in the bliss of never being able to put a face to her.

First of all, Eddie was a horrible liar. It was not hard for you to put the pieces together and realize that he did know one of the women in that group, if not all of them. But, you took one last look at his profile, told him you loved him, and decided to let it go. For now.

----------

A few days earlier, after the incident with Inky, Steve rolled up to the house at dawn to find Robin waiting up at the kitchen table. She was having a cigarette with her coffee, and Robin never smoked. He watched her bite into her thumbnail, chew it off, and then spit it on the floor as he stepped into the room.

“What’s up?” Steve shut the sliding door behind him and locked it. “Where’s Oliver?”

Robin put her finger to her lips to ask him to ask him to keep it down. She saw how he was favoring his freshly bandaged hand, but chose not to ask questions. “Katie is asleep,” she flicked the end of her cig over the ashtray. “Oliver spent the night with Wayne.”

Cautiously, Steve clapped down into the seat across from her, wallet chain hitting first, motioning for her to slide the pack of bargain basement knockoff cigarettes over. He had his own lighter, but she shot the box of matches over to him as well. Striking the match to light his smoke, Steve bucked his chin at the manila envelope she had next to her. “What’s in there?”

Robin brushed her hair off of her face and hunched forward. “Oh it’s just a little something. Might cheer you up.”

She pushed the envelope toward him with the pads of her fingers, both sets of eyes on it as it traveled across the faux wood surface. Now Steve knew exactly what it was when he saw the label on the front but even then, he was riddled with confusion.

“How did you--?”

A part of Steve knew, even though there’s no way he could’ve had any idea where Robin went that night or what she’d said to Tina to get her to sign her rights to Oliver away. Or the gun she’d pointed loaded and proud, letting them know there were only two ways the night could end, and both involved her walking away with those signatures. The saddest part was how quickly Tina had agreed to take the money in exchange for Oliver; there hadn’t even been a glimmer of internal struggle. Robin told herself it was for the best though, and once Oliver was old enough to ask questions, he would never know about that night, or how quickly he’d been given up.

Now, they really were broke, even more than before, and without any safety net to fall back on. But, no one would ever show up and try to take their son away again without facing legal ramifications, and Robin might’ve also let her know that she wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in her throat if she ever tried to get sneaky. “If you take Oliver, Steve and I will have nothing to lose. You know what they say about not wanting to fuck with someone who has nothing to lose.”

Steve peeked inside, exhaling a long, hot breath. After sucking on his lip for a few seconds, he raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “You’re telling me you got her to sign these and you got them notarized?”

“Katie,” Robin squinted and took another drag. The sleeve of her flannel fell down to expose the vine of an ivy tattoo on her forearm.

“She’s a notary? No shit?” he said the last part under his breath, chuckling a bit to himself.

Katie’s old job status as a notary public was a small detail that Robin had been fascinated to discover. Meeting up at a seedy motel in the middle of the night in her pajamas did not put Katie in a particularly compliant mood, but she offered her official services without too much of a fight. In fact, she had to admit later how much it had turned her on to find her girlfriend holding two people at gunpoint like that. It made her feel like she was in an episode of 21 Jump Street.

Steve rubbed one eye with the palm of his hand. The other hand, the one Astrid had cleaned and put a fresh bandage on for good measure, had just been used as a deadly weapon and pummeled a guy to the brink of death just the day before. He’d do it again in a heartbeat because no one threatened his family and got away with it. “Jesus, fuck, Rob. You know I love you, right?”

“Oh, you better,” she snorted a laugh, and then, softly,“I’d do anything for Ollie. And you. You know this,” and then she smashed the cigarette out in the ashtray. She couldn’t look him in the eye for fear the floodgates would open.

A sob hitched in his chest and he had to clear his throat. He really was on some real emotional bullshit lately and he made a fist with his good hand and banged it on the table, trying to collect himself. “Ditto.”

Robin got up and stretched her arms back with a yawn. “I’m going back to bed for an hour. You at the shop this afternoon?”

“Until late, yeah,” Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of the envelope. “I’m working on that chest piece for Thor.” Thor was one of the other Coffin Kings, a huge, beastly blonde dude with a long, braided beard.

Robin braced her hands on the back of the chair. “You thought anymore about going to Scott’s wedding this weekend?”

“Scott, you mean Daphne’s Scott?” Steve shook his head. “I haven’t thought about it at all, actually. There’s no way I’m going to that.”

Steve had only met Scott once at one of their barbecues, and Daphne knew Robin because her daughter and Oliver were the same age, but the last place Steve wanted to be stuck at was a wedding for two people he barely knew, or any wedding at all for that matter.

“You sure?” Robin craned her neck. “There’s going to be an open bar at the reception.”

“Nah, I got a thing on Saturday,” Steve waved his hand. “Take Katie, why don’t you?”

“I’ll think about it,” Robin worked her neck from side to side. “What do you have on Saturday?”

For some reason, a voice inside of Steve whispered that he should keep his plans vague. “Body guard gig,” he offered in a bored tone. He didn’t have to ask to know that Robin must’ve had to have paid off Tina somehow, and now they’d need some extra cash more than ever. What he wanted to do was change the subject. “Any word from Susie or Dustin?”

“Now that you mention it,” Robin scratched her cheek. “She’s due any day now and no, I haven’t heard a word. I should’ve checked in, I’ve just been out of my mind lately.”

“Dustin knows we’re in the thick of it,” Steve assured her. “We’re the first ones on the call list when she does go into labor, but I’ll give him a ring this afternoon to say hey.” He yawned, blinking his tired eyes a few times. “Should I take Ollie to the shop with me?”

“No, after Wayne drops him off, I got him,” Robin stole a curious look at Steve, knowing full well that there was something he wasn’t telling her. She was too exhausted in that moment to ask any questions as she turned to head down the hall. “Take a shower, dingus. You look like death warmed over.”

-----------

Wayne always kept his shotgun up high in a locked closet whenever the kid came to stay, but when he returned from dropping Ollie off with his parents, he stood there at the open closet looking around for a minute. He fingered through the flannels and old jackets, skidding the wire hangers along the wooden dowel, until he found the frayed denim edge he was looking for. He yanked back the line of clothes so he could pull the article of clothing out and take a look at it.

It was his original denim with the sleeves cut off, known as a cut, or Kutte, with the Coffin Kings MC insignia on the back. The matching insignia among club members were all “cut” from the same cloth. He held it up and wiped his hand down it a few times, as if to dust it off, looking over the worn and road weary patches, including the one with his nickname “Uncle” over the pocket, because he’d been an honorary uncle to so many, including Steve and Astrid.

He took it over to the mirror on the back wall of his bedroom, set the hanger on the chair and pulled the denim on over his white tee, adjusting the collar, working his shoulders through. Chemo had taken a lot of his size, and so it hung a bit loose, but the shoulder muscles were still there, and he flexed his hands, knowing they could still deftly maneuver a blade or a gun, just like the old days.

Sticking out of the side of the mirror was was a black and white photo that had been bent in half and wrinkled over time. A photo of a much younger Wayne, Astrid’s mother Evelyn with her jet black hair over her shoulder in a braid, and Steve and Eddie as little kids; not much older than Oliver. The boys wanted to be a part of the life so bad, even then, that Evie made them their own vests, complete with Munson and Harrington patches and the Coffin Kings skull on the back. Evie had her hand on Wayne’s chest in the photo, gazing up at him, and Wayne’s arm was around her shoulders, but his eyes were on Steve, his mouth open about to say something. Steve was making a face, his mouth in a grimace to expose two missing front teeth, both of his arms up, flexing to pretend he had muscles. Eddie was more stoic, his expression set without emotion as he stared into the camera, hands in fists at his sides, feet braced wide. Off to the side was young Astrid. She was a few years older than the boys, but still a baby. Wayne remembered she didn’t want to be in the photo, but Steve started acting out to get her to come over, and there she was, face slightly blurred as she tried to move away, but a smile on her face nonetheless.

Wayne met his eyes in the mirror; windows to a soul that was familiar but set in a face he no longer recognized. He thought about his panhead motorcycle collecting dust at the storage unit across town. He thought about how badly he wanted to protect Oliver from the horrors of this world, from the MC life. The boy liked to paint and draw and bake things, and Wayne didn’t understand that either, but he didn’t see the lust for danger in his eyes like he had with Steve and Eddie; Steve, especially. Like he wanted to turn the world on its head and dump it out to see how it worked. Maybe he had the love of a good mom for that, the kind of mom that stuck around. He thought about all of the things this disease had already taken from him, but it wouldn’t take this. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.

-----------

You’d stayed at Eddie’s for the past two nights in a row, and even though he would have you there with him every night if he had his way, you needed to set up your art room and take advantage of one of your afternoon off to work on John’s commission before you went back to the Hammer. You needed to stretch and frame the large canvas first, a meticulous process that took place in the garage, and then put up painters plastic around the art room so you wouldn’t flick paint around on the walls of the rental.

Eddie had brought you to work and picked you up the night before, and he took you home that next day in the tow truck so he could head to a job after. He popped in at the diner on the way to grab two coffee’s to go in tall white, Styrofoam cups. The older, married waitress there named Donna had a crush on both him and Wayne, and always gave him free stuff, for which they tipped handsomely. He came out of the diner holding the two cups up, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Things with Donna and I are getting serious, just so you know,” Eddie climbed up into the cab and passed your coffee to you, and then leaned over for a kiss once he was behind the wheel. “Black with two sugars for my lady.”

“Well, I don’t blame her one bit,” you clicked your tongue, leaning over to smell the fresh brew through the mouth opening in the lid and feel the steam on your skin, snuggling down into one of Eddie’s hooded sweatshirts. “Now I need to find an older, married boyfriend, and we’ll be even.”

What was meant to be a joke hit a little different because of the whole John Gregson situation, but Eddie snorted a chuckle as he put his cup in the holder on the dash. “You’re gonna turn me into a homicidal maniac if you’re not careful, sweetheart.”

As he got back on the main road toward your place, a glimmer caught your eye. The guitar pic on the ball chain hanging from the rear view mirror had always been there, but now there was a little, silver worry ring on the chain too, hanging flush with the red pick. It was the worry ring you usually wore on your thumb that you’d thought you had lost weeks ago. You reached up to take a better look and make sure.

“Baby, what is my ring doing here?”

Eddie took a wide turn, sucking his cheek, realizing he was properly caught red handed. “You left it on the nightstand that first time you came over,” he answered.

Your mouth fell open to goad him. “Why didn’t you tell me you found it?”

Eddie’s eyes found the ring in question where it swayed with the movement of he vehicle. “I don’t know, I think I meant to, but then I kinda liked having it in here with me. Whenever I look at it, I think about you. Something stupid like that.”

Your heart rushed, sending waves of heat through your veins. You were staring at his profile now, unable to look away, absolutely, wholly filled to the brim with love for this man.

“You really got it bad for me, don’t cha Munson?”

He offered a small nod and a shrug, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

--------------

It was almost 9am by the time Eddie dropped you off at the duplex. Katie was already at the school, and your orange tabby cat Charlie was in a mood, so you sat on the couch with him for a bit while you finished your coffee. Although Charlie loved affection, he was normally such a chill dude, but that morning he didn’t want to leave your side even after you put his favorite gravy bits breakfast in his food dish. You had been gone for a couple nights in a row, but you always came by during the day to check on him, so it wasn’t as if he’ been abandoned. It was almost as if he was trying to tell you something.

You stroked his ears back and kissed the top of his head. “Tell me, my boy, what’s on your mind?” But he only meowed, nuzzling closer, massaging his claws into your leg.

You ate some granola and dropped your bag on the floor at the end of your bed without turning the light on, heading straight into the bathroom for a much needed shower. You let the water get as hot as you could handle it, noticing the bruises on your hips for the first time from the way Eddie man-handled you during sex. You smiled against the stream of water at the memory.

Charlie was sitting on the sink with his tail curled around his feet when you opened the shower curtain, staring you down. “Close your eyes,” you told the cat as you clutched in the air for the green bath towel that was hooked over the metal dowel.

At least, you thought it was hanging there, but now you were grabbing at air because it was on the floor. You wiped water from your eyes and snapped another look at Charlie before you bent down to pick it up. “Did you do this?”

You were mumbling to yourself, wrapping the towel around your body and stepped out onto the mat. You remembered closing the bathroom door, but now it was open and you imagined that Charlie had pushed it open with his brute strength. You paused to put some moisturizer on your face, and then turned to open the door the rest of the way and face the bed, and that was when you realized there was something terribly wrong.

The bed was made; everything neatly tucked, comforter folded back at an angle, as an invitation. Had it been that way before you went into the shower? You wouldn’t know because you hadn’t turned the light on to look. The pile of clean laundry you’d thrown on the messy bed just the day before were nowhere to be found. You weren’t freaking out yet, not when you knew that Katie went into turbo cleaning fits when she was stressed, and there had been a lot going on with Robin lately. But it wasn’t like her to come into your space while you were gone and mess with your things.

A fear began to bubble inside of you as you clutched the towel tighter around your body, senses heightened as you inched over to check down the hall and in the closet. You were starting to feel so afraid that your hands got cold as shock began to set in preemptively.

With trembling fingers, you took hold of the wood knob and pulled open the top drawer of your dresser, only to jump back, covering your mouth to try and trap the scream that erupted.

Your underwear and socks were neatly folded into color coded rows. You yanked out the drawer under that and the next, only to find the same symmetry of tediously folded clothing. The second drawer fell all the way out and crashed to the carpet. In a frenzy, you dove forward and started scooping all of the clothing out of the drawers, yanking them all to the floor, making them a mess, throwing them around the room, tears running hot down your cheeks. You didn’t stop until the bottom drawer was empty; the drawer that had a few pieces of lingerie and silky pajama sets, all of it had been sorted and folded in the exact same way.

You covered your nose and mouth with your hands and sat down on the bed, taking sharp inhales, adrenaline preparing you for some kind of fight, flight, or fawn: whichever would keep you from eminent danger. There was and ocean in your ears.

You did not do this.

Katie would not do this.

The only person in the world who would ever do this

was your maniacal, neat freak ex fiance Craig.

Now you could hear a footstep creak on the wood planks in the hall just outside your bedroom and from behind you on the bed, Charlie hissed.

------------

Eddie didn’t have to take the long way back by your street with the old Chrysler on the back of the tow, but he did anyway, just because he liked being in your vicinity. Much like the “old days” when he would ride by your work, back when he thought you wouldn’t give him the time of day.

As he turned onto the street, he could see the front of your duplex on the corner, but his smile faded when he saw the front door was open. Not open just a crack, but open all the way, exposing the interior or the house, and you didn’t have a screen door, so he wouldn’t imagine you’d leave it that way on purpose. What if your cat got loose? He took a sharper turn than he should have to line the truck and pull along the opposite side of the street to park it, doing his best not to crush your neighbors garbage can, all the while keeping his eyes on the entrance, thinking maybe you’d appear and there would be some explanation.

He paused before crossing the street as a guy in a hunter green utility vehicle inched its way to the stop sign. The driver stared Eddie down as he went at a crawl, and Eddie was taken aback to be aggressively eyeballed by a stranger, but he returned the heated glare, bucking his chin. “Fuck’s your problem, man?” Eddied shouted, shrugging his hands in the air. The guy gave an open mouth smile, and made a motion of dragging his fingers across his throat, just before he stomped on the gas and flew through the stop sign, taking a right. Normally, Eddie would’ve taken more notice of the details of the license plate and whatnot, but his attention quickly returned to your open door, taking long strides to the opposite sidewalk.

Eddie looked around before he stepped inside, hand on the hilt of his knife. “Baby? Are you in here?” He asked it softly so it wouldn’t scare you. “It’s Eddie. Your door is wide open.”

His ears followed the sound of things being tossed around, and something heavy hitting the ground with a wooden crack. But then you screamed and his heart tightened as he bolted down the hall.

“Baby?” He entered your bedroom to find all of your dressers drawers open, and two on the ground, clothes scattered everywhere. You jumped when you saw him, scrambling back with a shriek, clutching a towel to the front of your body so that you wouldn’t be exposed.

You were afraid of him, or whoever you thought he was. Cheeks wet with tears, eyes wild like a feral animal caught in a trap. You backed all the way to the wall with your hand out, palm up, before you realized who it was.

“Eddie?” Relief flooded through you, and you dropped the towel, stark naked, to run into his arms, a sob choking in your throat. The feel of his denim and cool of his belt bucket against your skin helped to soothe your nerves, taking a deep inhale of the woodsy spice scent of his aftershave.

Eddie’s mind was reeling as he held you tight; one hand cupped behind your neck and the other at your back rubbing in slow circles. “It’s me, baby. It’s just me.”

You blinked hard, wishing he’d never had to see you like this, wishing you’d never have to tell him about Craig and why you were so afraid of him. You had no proof that your ex had actually been in your house, but also---you had all the proof you needed. This kind of sick fuck head game was right up Craig’s alley. But how had he found you? How would you ever get rid of him now? You didn’t want Eddie to have to get involved with this mess. Sure, Eddie was tough, but Craig was certifiable, and you were well aware that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you in his life.

You buried your face in Eddie’s chest and wrapped your arms as tight as possible, wishing you could both run away and disappear and not have to deal with any of this.

“Talk to me, baby,” Eddie said in a lower octave than normal, his blood boiling. “Who did this to you?”

-----------

That afternoon on Friday, Steve went to meet the woman he’d be doing security for the next day. He gave a low whistle as he rolled up to the main gates, “holy shit,” he mumbled, pinching a smoke between his lips, lighting it while his bike idled and he pushed the buzzer to announce himself. He combed his fingers through his hair as he rode in over a blood stain that was embedded in the cement, shooting a look to the 10 car garage, wondering what kind of beauties were in there and hoping he’d get to drive one.

“Be careful,” Astrid had warned a few nights ago when he stayed at her place. She shuffled her Tarot deck and did a quick reading for him. She tapped her finger on one of the cards. “I don’t like the look of this. I think someone with a dark heart has their evil eye on you.” Without looking up at him, she continued. “I need to do a protection spell before you go.”

“Does that protection spell include you riding my face?” Steve scooted his chair forward, lunging to kiss her temple, but she shrugged him off, trying to concentrate.

Her eyes were sweeping over the cards she’d just pulled for him with a tense bundle of lines between her thick, dark eyebrows. “I’m serious Steve. It’s someone with power who wants to own you, and I think the offer will be very tempting. Think Satan in a Sunday hat.”

She pulled two more cards. Her eyes flicked from Steve to the table several times. “Are you going to some kind of formal event this weekend?”

Steve winced. “Not if I can help it, why?”

This gift that Astrid had was much deeper than deciphering the magic in a deck; she had always been able to see beyond the veil of the known world. It was her gift that kept her lonely, and more often than not, she saw it as a curse.

She sat back in her seat to look the cards over again for an unnerving amount of time. Her intuition was foggy, and she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what would go wrong yet, but there were multiple threats on the horizon and her gut told her it was time to circle the wagons.

Steve’s tongue flicked out to lick the corner of his mouth. “Don’t leave me hangin’ here, darlin’. Do I get kidnapped by a bunch of circus clowns, or what?”

Her eyes locked onto his, letting him know she was serious. “Watch your back this weekend, Stevie.”

He took her hand. “Don’t I always, sweetheart?”

He thought about Astrid’s words as he wound the bike around to park at the front door, exhaling smoke as he flicked the cigarette to the side. He slid his sunglasses up on top of his head, taking in the expanse of the entryway, heavy boots plodding up the steps. At his wrist on a thin leather band was the tiny charm and gemstone Astrid had made him wear after she dowsed him in sage smoke and said a bunch of words he didn’t understand.

Charlene greeted him in nothing but the tiniest of bikinis, a straw sun hat, and a blue and red kimono, and Steve couldn’t help but adjust himself in his jeans at the way her breasts were almost spilling out of the tiny yellow top.

She offered him a drink out by the pool under one of the umbrellas, and Steve accepted a beer.

“I should thank you again for bailing me out,” Steve took a drink, glad that his eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses because he couldn’t’ take them off her heaving rack; the way the sweat trickled down her tan cleavage. A pool boy in tight, cut off jean shorts was cleaning debris from the surface of the crystal clear pool with a net at the end of a long handle.

“Anytime,” Charlene was so very charming when she wanted to be. “A friend of Eddie’s is a friend of mine.��

Steve took a generous gulp and put his forearms on the table. “Yeah? You know my buddy Eddie?”

Charlene flipped her blonde hair off of her shoulder. “Has he never mentioned me? We go way back.”

“Never,” Steve said without hesitation, making Charlene frown. “Not that I remember anyway. But Eddie and I don’t talk as much anymore. We’ve been too fucking busy.”

That seemed to lighten her expression, but the thought did occur to Steve to wonder how Eddie got word to her that he was in jail? He was pretty sure he didn’t even know about what happened until the next day. But, fuck it. Who cares how she found out? He just wanted to get this bodyguard gig over with and get his cash.

They agreed on a price for an evening of Steve’s services, and then Charlene led him inside to guide him up the big, lavish staircase to a guest bedroom where she had a gray and white suit waiting for him. She unzipped the black Armani sleeve it was in and Steve gulped. His mind immediately raced thinking about how much he could pawn it for on Sunday if she let him keep it.

“My cousin is getting married tomorrow,” she perched at the end of the floral bedspread, watching him pick the suit up to admire it. “I guessed at your size, but I can have a tailor meet us here before we leave if it needs fixing.”

Sure, Steve had been a bouncer forever, and had worked as an extra bodyguard a few times for visiting celebrities, but a personal bodyguard and escort for a woman like Charlene? Never. He wasn’t even sure why she needed protection for a wedding; looking down at the suit, he felt more like a gigolo than hired muscle.

“Nah, I’m sure it’s perfect,” and then he eyeballed the wedding photo on the vanity of a much younger Charlene with some other dude. “Where is your husband these days? Why can’t he take you?”

Charlene stretched back so that she was spread out on the bed, the nipple of one breast poking out from under the thin material. Her body was toned and supple and not at all what he expected a woman in her mid 40’s to look like. “My husband leaves town a lot for work. He doesn’t ask what I do, and I don’t ask what he does.”

“Fair enough,” Steve flicked his tongue over his gold tooth, watching the way she arched her back, exposing herself to him, making him palm his erection through his denim.

“For instance,” Charlene reached behind her neck to undo the tie for her bikini top, pulling it down, letting him see the expensive titties in all their glory. “He left yesterday and won’t be home until next week.”

So, of course Steve fucked her. He came between her tits and gave her a pearl necklace made of his cum, liking the way it dripped down her throat. He fucked her ass because she begged him to, using only spit for lube, her face pressed into the mattress, until she came, and then Steve milked a few more bursts of cum onto her backside with a grunt.

He liked getting paid and getting laid at the same time. He felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for a perfect situation like this to fall into his lap.

---------

Eddie paced at the doorway, flexing his hands into fists, “so this Craig fucker came here to what? Terrorize you? Try and get you back? I will put a bullet in his skull.”

You gave Eddie the cliff notes version of your relationship with Craig while you got dressed. How you thought he was fun and charming at first, but once you moved in with him, things got scary. He wouldn’t let you talk to your friends or go anywhere without him. When you first got the courage to leave, he broke into the house you were staying at in the middle of the night and put a knife to your throat. He’d been honorably discharged from the military and used his connections in the police force to bypass the protection order you filed on him. He was emotionally and physically abusive and stalked you for two years before you were able to make it to Hawkins without much more than the clothes on your back, and Eddie was reeling with how bad he wanted to get his hands on this guy. It made him want to start going up and down every street looking for him, which was not totally out of the question.

He had to go outside on the back patio for a smoke and you followed him. You sat down in one of the camp chairs on the concrete slab facing a patch of lawn that was maintained by the owner of the duplex, but Eddie stayed on his feet. You watched the muscles in his jaw flex as he frowned into his cigarette, his thoughts going to dark and dangerous places.

From what you told him about what the guy looked like and the description of his car, that was the dude who had stared Eddie down earlier. He didn’t want to alarm you anymore than you already were by telling you that he saw him, that the fucker had probably been in your house while you were taking a shower. He couldn’t have you staying at the duplex anymore until he could make sure that creep was long gone, and by long gone, he meant he was ready to put him in the dirt. If anyone could find him, Eddie could. He had family of the Kings who worked at police dispatch, and he had eyes all over town, from other tow truck drivers to every member of several MC’s. If this guy thought he was so sneaky, Eddie could do him one better.

Eddie was in a bad mood, cracking his knuckles, thinking about how much he would enjoy hurting this guy, when he heard a sniffle and realized you were crying.

“Hey, hey,” he snubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray Katie had there for the smoking she did when she was buzzed, and got down on his knees in front of you. He wiped a single tear off your cheek with his thumb, holding your jaw with gentle force so you would look at him. “This guy, he’s not gonna get near you again, alright? You’re gonna stay with me until I know you’re safe.” He cupped his hand around your neck and pulled your forehead to his. “Hey, I love you. You trust me when I say I’ll protect you, right?”

“It’s not that,” your eyes went to the Munson’s Garage patch on the front of his light blue work shirt. You kept your forehead pressed to his because you couldn’t look him in the eye. “Craig is dangerous, baby. I mean, he’s really crazy. I don’t want you getting hurt or---”

Eddie sat back on his heels, tilting his head to meet you eyes. “And you don’t think I’m crazy? Baby. I know you get the fluffy side of Eddie but I can do dangerous and crazy with the best of them. Okay? That’s all I’ve ever done. No one is going to fuck with my girl.”

His chocolate eyes searched you, needing to know that you believed you were safe.

You gnawed at your lip, eyes dewy and bloodshot. “I just wish this wasn’t happening,” you dropped your head again, mouth jerking down with impending sobs. “I wish we could run away.”

“Sorry baby but, fuck that,” Eddie stood. “You had to run from this guy once, he’s not gonna get the satisfaction of scaring you off this time. You’ve got me now.”

He squatted again, motioning for you to give him your hand and then he held it tight, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “And Steve and Robin and Wayne, and the whole Coffin Kings MC, baby. I want you to trust me. This fucker will be sorry he ever stepped foot in Hawkins.”

You slotted your hands on either side of his neck at his jawline, pulling him in, and the salt of your tears mingled in the kiss, your mouth opening wide to take him deeper. Unexpected moans of desperation escaped both of you, hands greedy for purchase on each other’s parts. You made it back inside the house just in time for Eddie to dive his hand down the waistband of your shorts.

“You’re mine,” he breathed, fucking two fingers up inside you, stifling your cry of pleasure with his mouth.

You scrambled to undo his jeans, pushing them down his hips. “I need you so bad, baby. Fuck me.”

There was no time to make it to the bedroom, you broke the kiss only long enough to bend over the kitchen island, shorts down, arching your ass up. Eddie swiped his cock along your glistening core only once before burying it inside of you groaning at the sensation. “Holy fuck, I love you,” Eddie murmured, proceeding to fuck his entire length inside, pulling your slit apart with his thumbs so that he could watch himself enter you.

You bucked back against him, meeting his urgency, biting your lip through hungry whimpers. Eddie shoveled his hand around the front of your throat and pulled you back, choking you with soft pressure while he other hand braced at your hip and he fucked you hard. He preferred to look at you when he was about to cum, but the two of you were frantic, and he was already close. Clinging to the counter, the wet slapping sounds of Eddie stretching you out were about to throw you over the edge. His hand moved from your throat to your mouth, dipping inside for you to suck them.

Eddie’s hips locked onto you as he came, and the sensation made your walls flutter, gripping him in a way that extended his orgasm, cursing, both of you crying out, able to forget about the worries of the world if only for those precious moments as you rode the high.

---------

At a decent chain Motel by a truck stop near the highway, Craig Ludlow paid for a week in advance and sat in the dark puffing a cigar by the window with the curtain tightly closed. An episode of The Twilight Zone was on the TV, and it was the only light but for the golden glow from the bathroom in the hall. On the table next to him was a razor blade on a mirror with white powder residue, a shot glass empty of its Jim Beam, and a handgun.

There had been an ugly landscape painting on the opposite wall, but he took it down to make room for his work. There was a big cork board there now, a place for all of the information he had on you and your little biker friends. Steve’s mugshot was up there, along with one of Eddie from 10 years earlier. Information on Wayne, Katie, the Velvet Hammer, every person or place you’d touched since you’d been to town. Somehow you’d slipped through his fingertips, and oh god, how he had missed you. Being a part of your life and knowing what you were up to was a part of who he was now, and he’d been feeling lost without it.

He planned use his connections to get in with Chief Hopper and make sure your new biker boyfriend had the law down his throat around every turn. Why was it so much to ask for you to let him love you? Your house was a mess, your bed not even made. Nothing in your drawers had been folded. It was obvious that you needed him and missed him and just didn’t know how to ask. You had always been such a prideful, silly goose.

A girl named Shari was working the night shift at the motel when she noticed, not for the first time, how odd the guy who checked into room 11 was. Shari happened to be the old lady of a Coffin Kings member named Jester, and she would tell him all about it, including the make and color of the SUV he drove, over the phone when he called to check up on her that evening. Coincidentally, War Machine had just let everyone know to keep an eye out for a creep of the same description who was stalking his girl. Jester headed over to make sure Shari was okay and waited in the shadows near the truck stop on his chopper, watching the lights from the TV flicker in room 11, keeping an eye on this guy so he could follow if he took off. Keeping him in his crosshairs to see if he should take care of this guy himself before he passed the word on to Eddie.

PART 14

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#Eddie munson #Eddie munson series #I'm on Fire #Eddie Munson smut #biker!Eddie #biker!Steve #biker eddie munson #older!Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #90sau #steve harrington #Eddie Munson fanfic #Spotify

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kaorisun · 1 year

Text

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 immortality is an abundant curse (2)

pairing : blade x reader

tags : angst, remembrance, hurt no comfort, canon divergence

word count : 6.08k

chapters : one • two • three

crossposted to : AO3

Summary : Some things are still muddied, but this is something you could never forget.

In his true name, you find fragments of what once was, and an unexpected party is determined to return to you what is rightfully yours.

Jing Yuan is hiding something from you.

Of this, you are certain.

However, it isn’t something that he shows explicitly. The man is talented at keeping a neutral, unknowing expression, but on the other hand… Yanqing is an open book.

As a child, he’s unable to hide his expressions when you chat with the General about your past. The worry mixed with a slight tinge of guilt tells you all you need to know. Yanqing and Jing Yuan know far more about your previous life than they let on.

Despite that, you never pry. You’ve always felt a sense of kinship towards the General, and Yanqing is someone you enjoy doting on. In regards to the secrecy, you know that they wouldn’t hide things from you without reason. The likely scenario is that they’re protecting you from something.

From what, you have no idea, but if Jing Yuan feels it’s best to keep you from it, then you trust him wholeheartedly. Not once has he done a thing to cause you harm, and you know this scenario is likely no different.

If Jing Yuan knows your past incarnation, then you’d take comfort in the fact that you’re in good hands.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, Bailu turns towards you with a small smile.

“Those should be all the ingredients we need for the medicine we need to restock. Let’s head back,” she says, leading the way, arms overflowing with various medicinal herbs. You dutifully follow, a basket of ingredients in hand.

For a moment, you’re mesmerized by the way Bailu’s dragon tail sways as she walks. Being in the company of another Vidyadhara far more experienced with the reincarnation process eased your mind. You still had much to discuss with her upon return to the clinic— perhaps she could provide much needed insight on your memories.

As if reminding you of the past just out of reach, you pass by the same wanted poster from earlier, causing you to stop in your tracks. Gazing at the photo, tears return to your eyes.

You feel like his name is on the tip of your tongue. You feel as if you’ve forgotten something important. Without your memories, a part of you has always felt vacant— empty.

Somehow, for some reason, you feel as if this man holds the answers, but for the life of you, you cannot remember who he is.

The tears slowly slip down your cheeks, and you hear Bailu call your name.

“Are you alright? Are you injured?” she asks worriedly. You sniffle and shake your head, brushing the tears away with the sleeve of your robe.

“I’m fine,” you lie, a frown plastered on your face. Bailu regards you for a moment before letting out a soft sigh.

“Let’s discuss it when we return,” she says, able to see right through your facade. You nod, trailing after her as she leads the way back to the clinic.

The stroll is quiet, Bailu likely leaving you to your thoughts to allow you to compose yourself before she pries for information.

When you return, Bailu takes the basket from your hands and sets it aside with the other ingredients before gently nudging you to sit on one of the beds.

Beginning work on blending medicines for restock, Bailu glances in your direction once she notices you’ve properly settled in bed.

“So? What happened?” she asks, eyes darting between her mortar and pestle and where you’re seated.

The words get caught in your throat for a moment and you swallow nervously. Tearing your eyes away from her inquisitive gaze, you wring your hands nervously.

“I know you told me not to force it… but since the commission posted those wanted posters, I’ve felt utterly restless. It’s barely been a full day, but I cannot shake this dreadful feeling. I feel so so close to an answer, yet so far,” you start, hands moving down to clench the bedsheets in frustration.

“Blade… that name feels terribly foreign and yet, I swear I’m familiar with the man. It’s…” your voice grows soft as you trail off. Bailu sighs, her eyes focused on her work as she speaks.

“Well, typically purposefully triggering memories is ill-advised. It’s more trouble than it’s worth, and you aren’t guaranteed any useful insight. The emotional distress of it is too high a risk factor,” the healer explains. Your expression falls, feeling dejected for just a moment.

“I’m not finished, don’t look so upset yet,” Bailu chides. “However, if something within you is reacting this viscerally to his photo alone, it may be less stressful to attempt to unearth the memory. In your current state, leaving it dormant may be more harmful for your mentality.”

With wide eyes, you give the dragon a hopeful expression. Bailu hums for a moment, setting her pestle down and approaching a bookcase. From the lowest shelf, she plucks a thick notebook before tossing it to you.

Fumbling for a moment, you grip it tightly before looking at the cover curiously. The cover is blank, causing you to look at the other curiously.

“It’s filled with names. The people of Xianzhou typically use them to help name their children, though we Vidyadhara have no use for it in that sense. Instead, I use it as a method to help our kind select new names, or trigger certain memories,” Bailu states, returning to her work table.

“The man is a Xianzhou native, judging from his appearance and attire. If ‘Blade’ is merely a pseudonym, then the name you remember is likely a derivative of the names used here. Flip through it. Maybe something will spark a memory,” she mentions nonchalantly. You tense for a moment, pausing.

“Are you certain? I’m supposed to be helping you mix medicine…” you murmur guiltily. Bailu groans and shakes her head.

“Can you truly work with your mind in this state without getting distracted?” she asks. You open your mouth to respond, but quickly close it and remain silent upon realizing that you indeed would be unsuited to focus on such tedious work.

“Exactly. So focus on that instead. Once your mind settles, I’ll allow you to work again. For now, see if a name in there feels right,” she says. You bite your lip, eyes downcast.

“How will I know…?” you ask softly.

“The mind is more resilient than it looks. Even after reincarnating, it still holds onto countless fragments of information with the capacity for the memory to return in its entirety. If you truly remember this man, you’ll know when you see his name. It’s ingrained into your very being, deep down,” Bailu assures, returning your smile when your expression lifts.

Flipping open the ledger of names, your eyes scan the pages for any spark of familiarity. Softly, you mumble each name to yourself, testing how they feel on your lips. The healer watches you carefully, noticing the way your brow furrowed when something felt close but not quite right.

For a while, this process continues. Even as you get halfway through the pages, you remain resilient, not discouraged despite the fact that nothing has clicked yet.

Fingers gently grazing down the page, scanning over the calligraphy of each name, you eventually pause as you whisper one of the names to yourself.

“Ren…” you murmur. In comparison to many others, this name feels… sweet. Your heart skips a beat when you say it— warmth flooding your chest.

“Ren. Ren…?” you repeat, tilting your head a bit, your head feeling fuzzy as you pause. Bailu turns to you and raises a brow.

“Find something?” she asks. You cannot answer, hardly able to hear— her voice sounding muffled as a flurry of thoughts enter your head.

“Ren… Ren!” you gasp.

Distantly, you hear rushed footsteps and someone calling your name, but before you can react your vision blacks out as you’re hit with a tidal wave of memories from a time once forgotten, causing you to fall unconscious.

Eyes snapping open, you jolt suddenly, halting in your steps. From your side, you hear footsteps stop as someone turns toward you.

“Are you alright? Have you been overworking yourself again?” a voice asks. You glance over, and Imbibitor Lunae is regarding you with a serious expression that’s tinged with concern. You offer a small smile.

“I’m okay! I haven’t been overworking myself. Though, I’m admittedly a bit tired,” you mention. Your heart is pounding, but you’re able to settle in the warm familiarity of the environment and its company.

Ah, I remember this… how did I ever manage to forget? you think to yourself as you continue on your stroll with the other. The dialogue slipping from your lips comes naturally— effortlessly. Some things are still muddied, but this is something you could never forget.

“So, who are you bringing me to meet? Another patient?” you ask curiously. Lunae lets out an exasperated sigh, a rare moment where his emotions show clearly on his face. His expression screams annoyance with a hint of fondness.

“He isn’t a normal patient. He’s a close friend of mine. However, I fear that his recklessness is getting out of hand. I doubt this’ll be the only time you’ll have to heal him,” Lunae mutters. You laugh a bit and shake your head.

“I imagine you’re speaking from experience. Is he like us— another Vidyadhara?” you inquire. The man shakes his head.

“No, a short-life species,” he clarifies, his hand grazing over the bracer on his wrist. Taking notice of the subtle action, your eyes widen.

“Ah—! The human friend of yours, yes? The one the General insists is your equal match in terms of skill?” you mention, excitement in your tone at being able to finally meet the man you’d heard so much about. Lunae looks away.

“Is that what he says when I’m not around? You shouldn’t let him influence you,” the dragon murmurs. You laugh.

“I’ll take that to mean that what he said is accurate,” you tease before humming, “but if he is as careless about himself as you say, I’ll have to get used to him, as well. Especially if he’s setting himself up to become a frequent patient.”

“If I hadn’t witnessed his skill for myself, I would’ve assumed that he was an amateur. You can surely expect to see him often,” Imbibitor Lunae says with a slight frown. Able to tell that he’s simply worried about his friend’s safety, you don’t comment further.

Arriving at the hall, you notice a recognizable General from afar, waving with a bright smile before approaching the unfamiliar man with fiery red-colored eyes alongside Lunae.

“Ren. This is the healer I mentioned,” he states simply. Ren’s eyes settle on you before smiling. The way he says your name makes your heart skip a beat, but you refuse to let it show.

“I’ve heard plenty about you. Lunae doesn’t talk much, but when he mentions you, he gives you his highest regards,” Ren says. You glance over at his wrist, noticing the matching bracer.

Reaching over to tap on it lightly, you respond. “And I’ve heard plenty about you, as well. The reckless swordsman with zero regard for his own well-being,” you jab lightly. Ren narrows his eyes at Imbibitor Lunae.

“Ah, I wonder… who could’ve possibly said such a thing?” he asks. Lunae crosses his arms.

“You’re acting as if it’s a lie. Show them your injury,” he commands. Ren sighs, lifting his shirt and revealing a deep gash in his side. With how calm and nonchalant he’s been acting, you would’ve never suspected such a significant wound.

Suddenly, you feel as if you can understand Lunae’s earlier exasperation.

This man undoubtedly has no sense of self-preservation.

Understanding the realization you just arrived at, the Vidyadhara pats your shoulder gently. You offer him a sympathetic look for having such a mindless bosom friend.

“I’ll take good care of him, Lunae, even if he’s clearly a fool,” you insist. Ren smirks.

“I’m a swordsman, not a fool. You’re acting as if injury isn’t a part of the title,” he mentions. You click your tongue as you set your supplies on the nightstand beside his bed.

“Injury is not inherently a factor in any profession aside from healing. Getting hurt doesn’t make you a swordsman, it just makes you stupid,” you say as you begin disinfecting his wound.

Ren winces at the feeling, glancing at you. “How are you so certain that I’m being reckless, then?” he asks.

“Lunae doesn’t call anyone ‘skilled’ so easily. If he says you are, then it means you could probably avoid these injuries but elect not to of your own accord,” you respond quickly. The man’s eyes widen, speechless and unable to reply. Laughing at his sudden silence, you raise a brow.

“Did I hit it right on target? You’re a bit easy to read, you know,” you mention lightheartedly. However, Ren falls silent. You tilt your head, setting the bloodied cloth aside.

“What’s wrong?” you ask curiously, startled at his sudden silence and lack of banter.

“You’re right in your assumption, but it’s more than mere recklessness. Tell me, as a healer, how many short-life species have you seen meet their end? How many deaths have you witnessed?” he questions. You frown, hands resting on your lap.

“Many— dozens over the years,” you murmur.

“Exactly. We’re surrounded by Vidyadharas, Foxians, Xianzhou natives— we’re just a small part of an endless stream of their lives. I mean, one day, I’ll be a distant memory as you live on. It’s hard not to be so…” Ren trails off. You sigh, thinking about his predicament.

Although you were a Vidyadhara yourself, every single patient you’ve had that’s passed has remained ever present in your mind. You did not think it was about the lifespan, rather the impact an individual made in someone’s life.

Despite that, you could understand his cynicism. Given that the man was around the same visual age as you, early 20s, you both had around the same amount of time remaining. This incarnation of you would soon pass, and you’d forget everything from this life.

Though you would technically live on, you would no longer be yourself. This version of you would disappear.

It’s practically a death in itself.

Smiling, you voice your empathy towards his situation. “Ren, I get it. Trust me, I have the same amount of time left that you do, and it can make you feel really… hopeless.”

Ren seems shocked, unable to say a word. Continuing your ramble, you hum as you grab your suture needle and thread and begin mending his wound.

“Though, I think you’ve got it backwards. The fact that you have such a small lifespan is precisely why you should cherish it. You don’t need to live for centuries to enjoy life. We all meet our end someday. Don’t let yourself regret how you spent the time you did have,” you explain with a kind tone, careful hands continuing to close the cut.

Ren remains silent, and you allow him the time to process your words thoroughly. Though the atmosphere is quiet, it’s comfortable, allowing you to focus on bandaging his wound after applying the proper salves and ointments.

“You know, you’re quite the optimist despite how much death you witness each day,” Ren mentions. You laugh lightly, pulling your hands away after securing the gauze.

“I have all eternity in the afterlife to lament my losses. I only have this remaining lifetime to enjoy myself to the fullest,” you state. Ren smiles at this, pulling his shirt down as he watches you pack your things.

“I like that way of thinking. Maybe you’d be a good influence on me,” he mentions with a softened gaze.

“If you start being a little less reckless, then you can say I’ve been a good influence,” you insist.

“But how can I guarantee seeing you again if I don’t get injured?” Ren asks with a smirk, clearly jesting in an attempt to tease. You roll your eyes playfully.

“I’ll see you for any injuries as needed, but if you want my company outside of my aid, you can just ask,” you say with a small grin.

“In that case, I’d like to see you again. It’s nice to have someone who understands what it’s like to be on borrowed time.”

“A century of lifetime is hardly ‘borrowed time,’ Ren. But I’ll take you up on that offer. Lunae’s stoicism gets a little scary after a while,” you chime lightly. The man holds back a laugh before nodding.

Heading towards the door, you pause for a moment and glance back at him.

“Oh, and Ren?” you pipe up.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Just dodge the strike next time. I’m certain you’re capable,” you say with a small smile. Ren chuckles and nods.

“I’ll try my best.”

Following that first meeting, Ren becomes a regular patient, though becoming injured far less frequently than before, according to Imbibitor Lunae.

Outside of your healer duties, the two of you spend plenty of time together— both alone and alongside mutual friends.

You remember growing incredibly fond of him, enjoying his company and becoming closer with each passing day. Previously, the days flew by for you, but upon meeting him, everything slowed. At the time, your heart was certain that your remaining days would be enjoyable with him by your side.

He was unquestionably a talented swordsman, but that wasn’t what drew you in. His skill was just a single asset in a sea of admirable qualities. He was compassionate and firm in his beliefs. Despite how little he cared for himself initially, he was loyal and fought for his values fiercely.

Above all else, he was kind to you. Even when he bantered, joking and teasing to incite a response, there was always a sense of tenderness in his actions towards you.

Though, things are still foggy. Faces are still unrecognizable and blurry— such as that of the General the past you so casually mentioned. Memories are still missing— crucial ones that you can hear remnants of in your mind.

You can feel your heart breaking upon learning something, but have not a clue what. It makes your heart feel distant— dreadful. Then, you’re filled with uncertainty and sadness as a voice— one that you’re certain is Imbibitor Lunae’s— echoes through your mind.

“Your time is coming. Have you considered your options?

“Whatever you choose to do, know that I will respect your decision.”

The voices of the various memories begin overlapping in your mind. You’re forgetting something— an important promise— but you cannot place it.

Everything is meshing together, causing your mind to spiral. Lingering feelings from your past clash harshly with distant voices from your memories—

What is it that you’re forgetting?

What is the promise that you’ve already forgotten?

Eyes snapping open, you lurch forward with a gasp, your heart pounding in your chest. Panting for air, you take a moment to observe your surroundings in an attempt to ground yourself.

Your head is still spinning, but you’re able to pick up the scent of incense in the air. It’s a calming blend, used to help soothe particularly antsy patients. As intended, it helps steady your pulse and ground you in reality.

Upon recognizing the sounds of shuffling, your eyes wander over to where Bailu is entering the room hurriedly, a bowl of water and a towel in hand.

“You’re awake! You should lay back down. The episode you had was rather intense,” she advises, rushing to your side and helping you ease back down onto the bed.

Gratefully, you accept her assistance. Though you’re aware of your surroundings and where you are, your head still spins with new fragmented memories. Your head is pounding, causing you to groan a bit.

Bailu lets out a soft huff as she wrings the towel and places the cooled cloth across your forehead.

“To think that a name could trigger such an intense reaction… who exactly was this man to you?” the healer murmurs to herself before shaking her head.

“What… happened? I remember coming across a familiar name, but I blacked out afterwards. I know it triggered a memory but… an episode..?” you ask. Bailu looks at you with a frown.

“Somehow, remembering this name caused you to be overwhelmed with information. All of your past emotions regarding him rushed to the forefront of your mind faster than you could handle, unable to conceptualize it,” she explains and shakes her head. “That’s why you blacked out. I didn’t expect that a name would have this effect. How are you feeling?”

You shut your eyes and ponder for a moment. You remember Imbibitor Lunae and Ren. Other faces and names remain foggy, but you certainly have many more answers than you did before. Unfortunately with that came countless more questions.

“I feel… dizzy, but somewhat fulfilled. I remembered a lot,” you hum, content with the new bits of information that your mind could handle. Bailu nods as she does a quick check on your heart rate and pulse.

“Then the risk was worthwhile. So, Blade. Who is he to you?” she inquires with a curious tone while focusing on checking your vitals. You pause before averting your gaze.

“That… I don’t remember. I remembered how I met him. It was through a mutual friend, but the nature of our relationship remains vague…” you mumble before a soft smile makes its way onto your face.

“What I do recall is that I loved him dearly. Ren— that’s his actual name. I loved him more than anything, but I have no idea what became of our relationship. He could hate me now and I’d have no idea…” Your expression falls, suddenly feeling dejected at the thought of Ren disliking you.

It doesn’t feel right. Something within you is telling you that such a thing is impossible, but you’re afraid to face that part of yourself lest you cause your mind to fracture once more.

“Well, fret not. Now that you’ve broken through and remembered something considerably significant, it’ll be easier to trigger the rest using similar methods. Though, It’s best not to rush the process or you’ll aggravate this sort of episode again,” Bailu warns, and you nod in understanding.

However, your heart wavers. Knowing that your memories will soon return is… terrifying. Being reminded of your connection with Blade was jarring. The criminal on the flyers is a stark contrast to the man from your memories.

Surely, the remainder of your memories is bound to provide an explanation. Judging by the way your chest tightens, it’s not a pleasant tale.

“Bailu… Should this be something I aim to remember? Nothing can change the fact that the man I once knew is a criminal, wanted by the IPC. Is it… right for me to remember all of this?” you inquire, hands shaky as you stare up at the ceiling with teary eyes.

Desperately, you want to grab on to any shred of familiarity from your past. Deep down, you know you want— need to remember Ren and the warmth you once shared with him.

Despite that longing, he’s still a fugitive. Perhaps living in ignorance is the better option if it means sparing yourself from a truth you’re unprepared for.

However, Bailu doesn’t pass judgment, nor does she chastise you for your honest worries tinged with your own wishes.

“You have the right to recall the past that was once yours. Even if Blade is a criminal now, that won’t change how you once felt— and likely still feel— about him. If you don’t want the truth or believe you’re unable to handle it, then we can leave it be. The decision is your own,” Bailu comforts, offering a faint smile. Her response brings you comfort, looking at the girl with a spark of life in your eyes.

“I plan on seeing it through fully. I loved him— part of me still does. I need to know what happened,” you express with renewed resolve. Bailu lets out a sigh accompanied by an affectionate smile.

“I assumed such would be the case. Just exercise precaution,” she mentions before continuing. “I’ll try to bring around any historical or personal texts I can find about Ren. I know you’re familiar with the General, so I’ll try finding texts involving him, too. I can’t make any promises. Historical accounts aren’t always accurate.”

“Anything you can do to help is appreciated, Bailu. It doesn’t have to be right away,” you assure her.

“I’ll try my best, but you may just have to wait until, by some kind of miracle, we find something to directly do with your past. We may be unable to stimulate any more memories until then. In that case, we’d have to wait,” Bailu says. Your heart falls, but you try your best to mask your disappointment.

Before you’re able to respond and attempt to channel optimism into the conversation, the door to the clinic bursts open.

Like a whirlwind, Yanqing barrels into the room on quick feet, rushing straight to you.

Concerned with his apparent hurry, you sit up to meet him, scanning the boy for any potential injuries.

“What happened? Are you okay? Is someone injured?” you ask, mindset shifting into that of a long-time healer. Bailu regards him with a similar concern, hands on her hips as her expression remains serious.

Yanqing quickly shakes his head, instead plopping a journal onto your lap. His eyes shift from you to the door, as if he’s afraid of getting caught.

Your eyes glance at Yanqing quizzically, but he offers no response, shifting his weight from left to right nervously. Unsure of what he could’ve possibly brought to you that made him so paranoid, you shift your attention to the text, eyes glancing over the calligraphy.

As you read the title, your breath gets caught in your throat, the journal nearly slipping from your grasp.

“This is…”

Jing Yuan’s Diary.

As much as Yanqing admires the Divine Foresight and Arbiter-General, Jing Yuan, he doesn’t blindly follow him.

Truthfully, he finds himself disagreeing with the man more than he’d care to admit. While it’s typically in regards to Yanqing’s boundless ambition towards training, the General insisting that the boy needs a break, this is the first time that they’ve disagreed over something considerably important.

This is also the first time that he’d be doing something in direct defiance of Jing Yuan.

Firm in his decision, Yanqing knows he must take matters into his own hands.

Blade may be one of the IPC’s most wanted criminals, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer, too. Jing Yuan insists that you’re better off living in naivety, but what the General doesn’t see is the pain you experience and show when you believe no one is watching.

Admittedly, Yanqing has always been fond of you as a mentor and guardian. Unfortunately, that also means he can read you rather well.

In moments of solitude, he notices how lost you look. He can recognize that you’re suffering, saddled with emotions with no explanation as to why they burden you so.

Yanqing has grown tired of seeing you shed tears over the shards of your past that you’ve tried desperately to glean more from.

Catching you tear up over Blade’s photo, then witnessing the way the General still insisted on keeping you ignorant was his last straw.

Jing Yuan has too little faith in your resolve, he thinks.

You’re a healer by nature, finding your way back to the profession even in this reincarnation. With the way you’ve always passionately helped others, scolding them when they show little care for their well-being, is proof enough that you won’t stray from the right path— even if you learn the truth.

That’s why, the moment Jing Yuan departs to the Divination Commission to meet with Fu Xuan, Yanqing resolves to steal his diary.

It’s unlike the ones where he’s written about Snowmoon and Mimi. Instead, it’s a journal the man keeps tucked away— one he writes in after his encounters with you and your sparse memories. Each time you return with a new sliver of the past, the General writes.

Though he’s uncertain if it’ll have all the answers, Yanqing is sure that it’ll provide far more than Jing Yuan is willing to provide of his own volition.

Whether he’s being driven by his childish immaturity, an excuse of heroic drive, or simply because he cares for you, the boy has no idea. What he’s certain of is that, just because they’re unable to share the knowledge with Blade (for obvious reasons), doesn’t mean you should be left wandering in the dark of disorientation.

Do you not have the right to remember a life that once belonged to you?

Nabbing the diary is a rather easy feat. Cloud Knights posted in the hall pay him little mind due to the close relationship he has with the General, so it goes unnoticed when the diary disappears from Jing Yuan’s desk, Yanqing slipping it beneath his robe.

Under the guise of visiting you to replace the bandage on his face, he hurries out of the building. Once he’s far enough from anyone who might catch him, he flips through the diary, skimming the paragraphs.

Truthfully, it contains far more than he anticipated. It recounts the day you met Jing Yuan, alongside accounts of your close friendship with a man named “Lunae.” Scattered throughout the script are many recounts of your experiences with Ren and the General.

Not only does it contain information from your past, but the man made notes spanning from back then all the way to the present, still-drying ink on the pages mentioning how you’ve started to recognize Blade once more.

From what Yanqing can gather, the General was once a firm supporter of your relationship with Ren, but upon your return and Blade’s falling into criminality, he knew he had to protect you.

Yanqing couldn’t help but frown. Jing Yuan is hiding you to prevent Blade from finding you, especially before you can regain memories. While it seems he never intended to separate you permanently, the General makes it pretty clear that he wishes to do so indefinitely lest you fall into the same path your past lover did.

There’s no doubt that the General truly cares for you and your well-being…

But Yanqing knows that he cannot keep coddling and protecting you from a decision that is ultimately your own.

The memories within these pages belong just as much to Jing Yuan as they do you. Jing Yuan made his decision to remain at the Luofu as an honorable General of the Cloud Knights.

Yanqing thinks you should be allowed the opportunity to make a choice for yourself, too.

Naturally, he feels a bit guilty for his direct defiance of the man’s orders, but he feels that he has to do this.

Fleeing towards the Healer Lady’s clinic, he weaves through crowds of people with ease. As he moves, he passes by various bulletins, posted with the wanted posters that prompted this entire ordeal. Reminded of the pain you and your lover went through, he frowns.

He’s not naive. He’s young, but has already seen the cruelty the world has to offer in the form of the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus and the Mara-Struck soldiers.

Yanqing knows that telling you won’t repair your relationship with Ren. It won’t take back all of the suffering you two have experienced. He’s not even positive that the journal will cause you to recall anything.

Either way, he’s determined to at least provide the option to you that was once forcefully barred off by Jing Yuan. Whether or not you actually want the truth that’s been hidden is up to you.

Regrettably, nothing that Yanqing does in the present can rescue you and Ren from your tumultuous past.

However, at the very least, knowing the truth will be able to ease your heart and steady your mind.

And that’s enough of a reason for him to continue forth.

Yanqing looks to you worriedly as your hands tremble, clutching the diary tightly in your grasp.

You feel yourself waver beneath the metaphorical weight of what this journal holds— the truth. The full story.

Breaking the silence in an attempt to ease your nerves, the young swordsman pipes up.

“Jing Yuan has been keeping track of his time with you, Blade, and your mutual friends since long before you reincarnated. It contains many stories… especially of you and…” Yanqing trails off. You let out a timid laugh, shaking your head.

“I knew he was hiding something but… I suppose one showing is worth a hundred sayings. I never expected that it was something of this degree…” you murmur. Taking into consideration your last episode from recalling Ren’s name alone, you look worriedly to Bailu for guidance.

Bailu walks over, taking the diary from your unsteady hands and flipping through it curiously.

“Aeons, talk about a well-timed miracle,” she mumbles. “Yanqing, I have no interest in knowing how you got your hands on this, but it should prove useful. In the meantime, let them replace your bandage while I take a moment to look through the contents.”

Yanqing opens his mouth to protest, but she cuts him off.

“In their current state, it’d be far too much for their mind to handle. They learned of Blade’s true name today and that small shard of information was enough to set off so much that it rendered them unconscious,” Bailu says with a sharp glare. Huffing, she shakes her head upon seeing Yanqing’s defiant expression.

“We’ll move forward in a controlled manner. I’m not your General. I don’t plan on hiding anything from them. They’re sound in their decision of wanting the truth. I’ll respect that, you have my word,” she promises before moving to her desk to peruse the contents of the diary further.

Yanqing sighs and turns to you, concern replacing his earlier expression. “You fainted? Are you alright?” he asks.

“I’m fine, Yanqing. It’s as Lady Bailu says. I just need to take things slow,” you reassure. He glances over you for any visible injuries before noticeably relaxing, nodding in understanding.

“That… makes sense. If it’s safer, then I’ll go along with it,” he says. You smile warmly, grabbing your supplies from the side table and carefully removing Yanqing’s old bandage.

“I trust Bailu, but I’m grateful that you’ve gone to these lengths for me. You’re young, but rather firm in your resolve. It’s admirable, and I’m happy to know you’d do so much on my behalf. It reminds me of someone I once knew,” you muse, humming softly as you reapply a healing salve to cut on the boy’s nose.

Yanqing flushes under your praise before looking away as he shifts nervously.

“So… what’ll you do when you learn the truth? Do you have any idea?” he asks hesitantly. You look at him, amused.

“Are you worried that I’ll leave?” you ask. Yanqing’s eyes go wide.

“N-No! Well, of course I’d be worried, but…!” he sputters. You laugh, ruffling his hair.

“I just want to fill in the gaps in my mind, that’s all. Having all these pieces with nothing to tie them together takes a toll on the mind, body, and soul,” you inform before sighing, averting your gaze.

“I’m positive that I once loved Blade, and that I still do. It’s an undeniable fact that I know in my heart is the truth. Despite that, those times have long since come and gone. Ren… Blade— likely doesn’t remember or love me like he did before,” you say.

Yanqing pauses a moment, searching your expression before posing another question.

“If, despite all the time that’s passed, he still loves you just as he did back then, would you change your mind?”

You freeze, hands halting. Meeting his gaze, you can tell he’s concerned— worried about what you might say. As much as you want to lie, claim that it wouldn’t change anything— you know Yanqing would look right through you.

Sighing, you place a clean bandage over the cut and give him a sad smile.

“In all honesty, I don’t know. It’s for that reason I want the truth. Once I have the full story, maybe in it, I’ll find the guiding light of an answer.

“Perhaps only then, I’ll know what I’m meant to do.”

tag rqs : @ceylestia

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai blade #hsr blade #blade hsr #honkai blade x reader #hsr blade x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x reader #hsr fic #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail fic #hsr angst #honkai star rail angst #cross posted on ao3 #ao3 crosspost #kaori-writes

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a-casual-kpopfan · 1 year

Text

Reminisce and Regrets

A/N: “Italic” dialogue indicates it being spoken in English. “Normal” dialogue indicates it being spoken in Korean.

Shoutout to @nojisunnomercy for the commission piece, really make me and Ghost to write and go through to make a sequel to Consquences and Regrets.

~~~~~

I made you my everything. Put my life in your hands and you held the strings.

She really was your everything. Don't know who I am anymore.

Let me down every time and I hit the floor.

Even with what she did, you still forgave her back then, entrusting her not to hurt you again.

And you gave me nothing at all. Only empty excuses to try and break the fall.

Despite your forgiveness, she ended up betraying you again. So, I did what I never could to do.

And I cut myself loose from you.

If she didn’t do it… Would you still be with her?

“Hey!”

“Oi, you bastard!”

With a yell, you snap back to reality, the image of her gone from your mind, replaced by your grumpy friend, frowning at you. “The food is going to be cold if you keep staring into nothing like that.”

At that time, you put your earbuds down, and noises start to flood back into your ears. The clinking of utensils hitting each other’s and the plate. Chattering from nearby tables. Sounds of people walking and cars driving on the road.

No longer are you drowned in your own thoughts. You’re back to reality: a small café near your workplace, where you and your friend decide to have lunch.

“You can just start first you know.” You shrug. “Didn’t have to wait for me.”

“Bro, I already finished half of mine, and you haven’t even touched yours.”

“Oh.” Looking down onto the table, you barely touch your food while your friend is almost done with his.

“You know, it’s not like we are strangers or anything.” Your friend lets out a sigh. “I’m worried about you dude. You haven’t been like this since the first week that you arrived here, and that was years ago!”

“Yeah, well, you know I got cheated on by my ex, what else do you need to know?” You chuckle lightly, starting to dig into your already cold meal.

“The details! The beauty is in the details, my guy.” Your friend responds with a chuckle, which morphs into a worried smile “Don’t you think let it out is better than keeping it all in?”

“Well... I’ll think about the offer, but thanks anyways.” You smile at your friend. A bit mischievous, but a good person at heart. You know he only has your best intention in his mind, and you are grateful for it. But you are not about to ruin her image, it’s the least you can do for her, even if she betrayed you twice.

“Anyways, I got us tickets!” Your friend decides to change the subject, tapping something on his phone before showing you the image of 2 tickets on his hand. “For what, exactly?” You think you know what those tickets are for, but you pray to God that you are wrong, just this one time.

“For the Loona concert!”

Fuck.

You swear in your head. It’s bad enough that the news of their tour, and images of them circulating in twitter inadvertently got you thinking about her again, after all those years. Now attending a concert and seeing them live?

God knows what could happen.

“How did you even get your hands on this?” You ask purely out of curiosity as to how your friend managed to acquire the tickets. You know how fast these tickets sell out. “Heh, what can I say? Lady luck was on my side that day~” Your friend looks incredibly proud of himself.

“So… Who are you going with?” You ask, a futile attempt in hopes that you might not have to go. “You, of course.” You groan at his answer.

“Come on, I know you want to attend it. You’re Korean, for god’s sake!” Your friend beams at you. “Most people don’t even recognize me as a Korean.” You counter. “That’s because you grow your fucking hair and beard out. They look good on you by the way, paired with those glasses-” He does the typical chef’s kiss motion “but just saying.” Your friend nearly explodes, but in a playful way, as he points out your distinct changes.

“I get your point, and?”

“And it might be a nice chance to use your mother tongue again. You’ve been using English ever since you got here, and God bless you for being fluent in English because none of us know a lick of Korean, I just feel like it’s unfair for you.”

“You really don’t have to do that.” You smile lightly. Amongst the various coworkers you worked with when you first arrived, only this guy stuck with you through thick and thin, inadvertently ending up as your best friend… Still, he can’t replace her, but he is good to you, and you gratefully accept that. What you don’t want to accept is the tickets.

“But-”

“Nah ah, no buts! I already paid for the damn tickets; I can use it however I want. And I want you to go with me on that day, and that is final!” Your friend stares at you with his fake aggressiveness that you are oh so familiar already. And you know that he won’t budge at this point, no matter how much you say to him.

“Alright, you win. I’ll go with you.” You let out a light chuckle, to which your friend also smiles at you. “There we go, couldn’t you be like this earlier?”

“Shut up.” Both of you laugh at the banter while enjoying the rest of the lunch. You can’t help but feel dreaded at the notion of seeing her, or the girls again, but they might not recognize you with how much you’ve changed. Ignoring the dull pain in your heart at the thought of them not recognizing you, you still think that it would be for the best. You are not the same as you were back then.

Not anymore.

-----

“Yah! Yeojin! Sit back down, why are you jumping around??”

“I’m so hungry… Do we have anything to eat? Hey, are you listening to me?”

To say that the bus is chaotic would be an understatement.

In typical Loona fashion, the girls are completely turning the bus upside down with their shenanigans, like they have an endless reserve of energy. Well, most of them, anyways.

Sitting at the far back of the bus, Hyeju watches them silently. Per usual, Hyeju isn’t one to participate in the chaos as much as the others, but there’s another reason for this.

See, after the incident with you, it took Hyeju a long time to earn back the trust of the girls again, some longer than others. Thankfully the members gave Hyeju another chance, but things were never quite the same.

Like how cracks can still be seen on a fixed object.

Her mistake has left scars. Some deeper than others.

She then takes a glance at Heejin who is also not partaking in the chaos, but just looking outside the window with a blank stare. Heejin never really did forgive Hyeju. She only held in the anger inside of her for the sake of the others, but with observant eyes, it wasn’t hard to recognize Heejin was avoiding Hyeju.

And honestly, despite how hurtful it is, Hyeju can’t bring herself to be angry at Heejin for that.

You and Heejin were basically glued together.

She introduced you to the girls.

She was the one that was with you through thick and thin.

But in the end, she had to give up on him for Hyeju’s sake.

What did Hyeju do?

She betrayed you.

The reason why you decided to move abroad while cutting off any form of contact.

It’s been 3 years since then.

Hyeju sighs to herself, looking outside to the moving scenery. Three grueling years without you by her side, they say that you never know what you truly had until you lost it, Hyeju understands it fully, now that she lost you.

She never quite realized just how involved you were in her life, until you left. The apartment was never quite the same without you, without your warm touch, it lost its homely atmosphere, now it’s just a cold, empty room. Meals weren’t the same without your soft voice, humming and listening to each of her daily rants, the bed felt cold without your hug, pulling her in and reassuring her that you were always with her.

Why did she do it? Why did she betray you? Even after 3 years, that question still lingers in her mind, as a reminder of her own mistake. She simply took you for granted. After the first time, you were gracious enough to give her your full trust again. And she… She thought that she could get away with it as well. How could some instant gratification be compared with stability?

She was wrong, so, so wrong. She was wrong to even entertain that thought, to even meet up with that man, to be seduced by his mere words.

And that made her lose the dearest thing that she had.

You.

-----

Well, here you are.

Standing in front of the venue, instead of all the excitement that you should be feeling, all you can feel is impending doom or anxiety in short. You start to question yourself repeatedly, “is this a mistake? Should you turn back? Why are you even here-”

“Dude! Less thinking and more walking!” You feel a hand striking your back, nearly making you stumble onto the ground. You glare to the side at your friend, who is smirking at you.

“You’ll thank me for this one day, now let’s get going.” He pulls you to stand straight again, before pushing you into the venue.

“Here goes nothing, I guess.” You mumble, mostly to yourself to brace for what is to come. “See? You’re already speaking in Korean! I know you’re excited, you don’t have to hide it from me~”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You let out a sigh, starting to walk into the venue on your own without your friend pushing you. “Let’s head in, or else we might be stuck outside for a while.”

“I heard you, let’s go!” Your friend’s energy seems to remind you of a certain bunny, causing you to chuckle slightly.

The walk inside the venue is generally uneventful, if you ignore all the crazed fans with the merch gossiping among each other. As you do your best to ignore them, because everywhere you look, you see their damn faces.

On the shirts, printed on handheld fans, posters.

God, what in the actual fuck.

You thought you could handle this, seeing them again, but just the sight of them, of her, on the poster, already makes you feel sick to your stomach. Three years, three long years, and you are still haunted by the memories of that day. Three years without seeing them, three years of you, changing yourself in order to not be weak anymore. Yet just a picture of them, and the wall you’ve built so meticulously has already started to crumble slightly.

“Dude, you alright?” Your friend doesn’t miss the faint pained expression on your face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok, my stomach is just a bit hurt, that’s all.” You harden your resolve once again before reassuring your friend with a slight smile. Your friend says nothing of the matter, but you feel his gaze on you as you both move to your seats on the inside of the stadium.

In an attempt to distract yourself from the fans and pictures, your eyes dart around other places, trying to find a safe haven where you don’t have to look at all the fans and pictures of the girls. You eventually find it, but you don’t know if it’s really a ‘safe haven’.

You spot a figure looking like a man, his black hoodies and jeans a stark contrast from the crowd. Given that you are also dark colored clothes, you can’t say anything about the man. But there’s just something about him, something that you can’t put your hands on, for some reason, he feels familiar.

“Dude, why are you staring at a stranger?” Your friend elbows you in the chest.

“… Nothing.” You disregard your uneasiness to get back to the matter on hand. “I just accidentally look at that direction.” Trying to play it off and walk off with your friend to find your place to watch.

“Pfft, yeah right.” Without looking, you can feel his eyes roll at you. “Let’s head inside before someone call the police on you for being a creep.” Silently, you take one last glance at the man in hoodie, before joining your friend at the seating area of the venue.

“This… Feels weird.” Mumbling to yourself, you look around the place. Now that you think about it, you rarely ever watch their performances from the audience’s point of view. Being a close friend to a certain bunny, and later, boyfriend of a certain wolf, you spend most of the time backstage with them, watching them either on the TV in the waiting room, or directly behind the backstage.

You never had the chance to watch from the audience due to your relationship with the girls, you were important to the members. A big brother, a drinking buddy, a listener, a friend, best friend even, and then boyfriend to her. They couldn’t let you stay in the audience during their performances.

Somewhere deep inside of you, you missed those days, days you spent with the girls, taking care of them and having fun with them, to be with the one you love, no, loved.

You find it hard for yourself to forgive her, you already did that once, after all. All the love and energy spent on her, to be reciprocated with betrayal. Not only once but twice. Who does that kind of thing? Who betrayed the trust of someone who loved them very dearly that easily?

The more these thoughts resurface, the more your heart ached. Not for her, but for the relationship that you lost because of her. How could you stay with the girls, now that your relationship with one of them is strained? They know her longer than they know you, so whose side are they going to take?

While you fall back into your deepest thoughts, you fail to recognize the venue’s light dimming, as screams begin to echo out from the fans. Only when you hear their voices do you awaken from your thoughts, to be greeted by the girls standing on stage, already performing the first song with the fans chanting along with the music.

You turn to the side, to also see your friend excitedly chanting along with his broken Korean, much to your amusement.

As for you, you were never one to like the crowd, so you just stayed seated, watching the performance with mixed feelings in your heart.

Your eyes soon glued onto her.

Your ex, the one you loved so much, but also the one who broke your heart into pieces. She seems to be doing ok, you thought. Her stage presence is much better than before, and so is her confidence. Despite projecting a cold image, she has always been somewhat timid behind the curtains. It took you many hours of encouragement and pep talks to give her the confidence boost she needed, and to see her like this… You can’t help but be proud, just a little bit.

Before your mind can start treading into forbidden memories, you turn to another person.

Your “Bunny”.

Well, you don’t think you have any right to call her that anymore, after all, it was you who cut her off when you moved overseas. Admittedly, it wasn’t right for you to just cut her off like that, when you and she have shared so many things together, the both of you going way, way back. But in your emotional state, you couldn’t bear to see or hear anything that would be remotely related to your ex. And so, in a fit of rage and depression, you changed your number, cutting off every relationship that you had in Korea, except for your family.

As the concert goes on, you barely pay any attention to the performance itself, too busy drowning yourself in your thoughts as you drift back and forth, in and out of your head, between happiness from seeing the girls again, to sadness that you’re seeing your ex again, to depression and guilt of you cutting them off from your life.

Before you even know it, the concert is nearing its end, with the girls doing the encore song while having fun on stage.

I don't need nobody to move my body

All me with no strings attached

I don't wanna be somebody who

Lets somebody hold me if they hold me back

I just wanna dance, dance

Dance on my own (dance on my own)

You can’t tell if there is a hidden message to this song or something, but you feel like this song just hit a little bit too close to home. Maybe that’s why you’ve been looping it a lot these days. And it’s hitting you hard right now, seeing that your ex is one of the people singing it on stage as well.

How ironic is that?

When she was the one that betrayed you and now singing that she can be by herself? You tighten your fists as tears start to gather in your eyes as rage and sadness begin to cloud your mind. How can she sing that so-

No.

Before you can go any further, you mentally restrain yourself. As expected, you’re losing control over your emotions because you can see the worried look on your friend’s face as he glances over to check up on you.

“Bathroom.” You manage to utter one word before standing up and leaving your seat, and your friend behind.

“Fuck.” You swear to yourself once you enter the bathroom. Making your way to the sink, you splash your face with water in some false hope of cooling down your mind. “Get it together.” You look at your drenched face in the mirror.

“It’s almost done, just a little bit more.” You talk to yourself in the mirror, like some madman who’s off his meds. Luckily, no one is here to judge your weird behaviour.

After a few more minutes of talking to yourself, you gather enough courage to return to your seat. But right as you leave the bathroom, you see the man in black hoodie from earlier walking by.

Now, as any normal person would do, you are going to return to the seating area to calm down an undoubtedly very worried friend. But once again, your gut feeling is telling you that this guy is bad news. And your gut feelings are usually never wrong. After all, it was your gut feeling that made you suspicious of cheating in the first place.

So, you decide to trail behind the guy, lighten your steps in order not to make any sounds. The man just keeps walking forward, his steps heavy and hurried. He’s walking with a purpose, there was a destination in mind, and you can’t help but keep following him, all the way to the backstage area.

Seeing how the guy knows how to avoid security, your suspicions are confirmed by now, but for safe measure, you kept your distance from him.

Then you heard noises, more specifically, chatter and laughter. You can recognize their voices everywhere, even if you aren’t up to date with them anymore.

Oh no.

The man starts to pick up the pace after he hears the voice heading towards a fork in the hallway, prompting you to do the same. You see him pull something out from his hoodie’s pocket. You can’t see what it is, but it’s shiny, you start sprinting after the man now.

You’re catching up to him. But he’s also getting very close to the girls, their laughter can be heard closer and closer.

Faster.

Now’s the time that you put all the efforts you made in the gym to good use. With a short burst, you catch up to the guy, and promptly crash your shoulder into him, pushing him into the wall in front of the girls just as they arrive, earning screams and yells from them. But you can’t hear them.

With the collision, the both of you fall onto the ground, the object the man was carrying seconds before fall off his hand, landing on the ground. A pocketknife.

The man glares back at you, his hood already fallen, yelling “You motherfucker!” in fluent Korean, stunning you for a brief second.

Because, you know this man.

He was the one that Hyeju cheated on with.

That brief stun period is enough for him to land a kick in your face, before scrambling for the knife. Thankfully, the pain is enough to wake your senses up, leading you to get on your knees and lunge for the man, using your entire body weight to land onto him, before your arms quickly find their way around his neck, tightening the chokehold you have on him while he struggles to break free by bashing his elbows against your ribs.

You grind your teeth and tighten the hold even further, ensuring the man has no way to escape, before you feel him going limp on your arms, and you being pulled out someone, presumably the security.

Looking at the unconscious guy, you smile faintly to yourself, maybe those Jiujitsu classes weren’t that useless after all.

Everything immediately afterwards is somewhat of a blur to you, not to mention the adrenaline subsiding and the pain kicking in. The fact that you encounter not one, but the two people responsible for betraying your trust back then and in such a situation as well.

From what you can deduce, Hyeju probably cut contact with him out of guilt, and him being constantly denied contact probably drove him crazy. Looking at the unconscious guy again, you can’t help but let out a sigh. What can you say?

Karma’s a bitch.

Although you feel a tinge of relief learning that small piece of knowledge, you still don’t particularly feel like you are in the mood to answer some questions from the security.

But you are cautious enough not to stand near the girls though, in case they recognize you because they sure did recognize the other man, as evident by Hyeju’s trembling. As happy as you are to see the girls up close again, you don’t think your heart can take any more than this, so, you take what you can get.

After a brief question, you start to head back to the seating area, your head thinking of what excuse to use for your worried friend. Before you leave though, you hear the voice of the girls calling for you, and as much as you want to just ignore them, that would be too rude of you.

“Thank you so much for helping us, mister.” Haseul speaks up for the girls.

“It’s nothing, I just did what anyone else would do.” You smile lightly.

“But your glasses were broken because of it, was it not?” Indeed, your glasses were broken, but you don’t really need glasses to function day to day and you just want to get out of here as fast as possible.

“I can still see fine, so don’t worry Miss. Instead, I think you should focus on comforting your friend over there, she seems quite shaken, no?” Your attempt to divert the conversation is a success as all the girls turn to the shaken Hyeju, talking amongst themselves before heading back, not forgetting to give you a small bow when they leave.

Except for one person though.

“Oppa.”

Shit, of course it’s Heejin. That girl has always been observant when it comes to you. But that isn’t enough for you to give up.

Keeping up with the façade of not knowing Korean, you pretend to not hear it and just keep walking. You can hear her calling you “oppa” repeatedly again. But you aren’t going to stop. The moment you cut her off, you stop being best friends. Not anymore.

“Pooh, is that you?”

Pooh.

Such a stupid name.

Yet, you stop dead in your track at the mention of that name, no one has ever called you by that in years. It was from way back in their childhood. Something your parents lovingly call you due to your chubby figure back then. Something that Heejin also called you, joyful of having another ‘victim’ being called by a nickname, after gaining the ‘Bunny’ nickname from her parents. At least, all the way up to when you started dating Hyeju, at least.

That name should have stayed buried in the past. Why did she- No, the question here should be, how did she figure you out?

“You look surprised.” Standing frozen in the spot, you can see Heejin walks into your view from behind, smiling lightly. “Did you really think that, by growing out your hair and beard, and bulking up, that I would not recognize you?”

Her eyes look up to yours, and you can see the anger, the disappointment in her eyes, but also relief and genuine joy upon seeing her best friend again. “Was our friendship really that shallow to you, Pooh?”

Guiltily, you can’t bring yourself to face her directly, your eyes diverting from her face. You’d rather look at anything else than to see her right now, if not you feel like the wall that you’ve spent years building might not collapse on the spot.

“You don’t have to say anything.” She whispers. You can see streams of tears rolling down her cheek. Your heart hurt more at the notion of Heejin crying, especially because of you. “I’m glad that I got to see you again, even if it was for a moment.” You feel her hand resting on your cheek, gently caressing it with her thumb going along the grooves of your beard.

“My goodness, you’ve really changed, haven’t you.” A small chuckle. “Goodbye, Pooh.” As you feel your palm leaving your face, you can hear the crumbling of the walls surrounding your heart. Years of steeling yourself, but all it took was just a moment with Heejin to bring it down.

“Wait.” You utter, your hand grasping onto hers to prevent her from leaving. Before she can react, you pull her into a tight hug, whispering to her. “I’m sorry, Bunny. I’m sorry.”

Taken back by your action, Heejin seems to be silent.

One second passed by.

Two seconds.

And then you can feel her body trembling as her arms try their best to hug around your huge frame, her face buried into your shoulder as she lets out choked sobs.

“How could you leave us like that? Leave me like that?” She cries into your shoulder. “Was our time together not even worth it for you?” Her grip on you turns tighter. “How could you…”

Her words are like a knife piercing your heart, you know you’ve done something wrong to her and the others. So, all you can do is try to compensate for it. There’s no turning back now, Heejin would not let you leave if you don’t leave her your phone number, and the girls are going to know about this sooner or later.

The girls… Are you ready to face Hyeju again? After all this time?

You forcefully stop yourself from thinking further. That can be dealt with later. You have a crying bunny to appease.

-----

As expected, after a good 10 minutes of crying, Heejin gave you 2 options: either give her your number, or you follow her back to her hotel. Without any real options, you reluctantly give her your number, only then was she satisfied enough to let you leave.

After that, you had to deal with the situation that was your worried friend. Thankfully, he bought your excuse of being stuck in toilet due to constipation and the both of you part way after chatting for a bit.

Which brings you to right now: lying flat on your couch, physically and emotionally exhausted from the chaotic evening. You just want to take a long, long sleep now.

Before you can even drift off to sleep, your phone begins to ring nonstop. Looks like the night isn’t over yet.

“Hello?” You pick up the phone.

“You still awake?” You can hear Heejin’s voice from the other side.

“Yeah, thanks to a certain someone calling me.”

“Hehe~ Anyways, I’m only in the city for tomorrow before heading to our next destination, can we meet?” Despite performing for around 4 hours straight, you can still feel the energy in her voice. Unconsciously, you start to smile as well, infectious of her energy. Just like old times.

“Lucky for you, I have tomorrow off, so let me sleep for now and maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” Despite losing contact for so long, the two of you still converse like nothing ever happened. Like you were never apart. Joking and teasing like the old times.

“You better show up, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Go get some sleep Bunny, it’s been a long evening.”

“Mhmm, see you tomorrow, Pooh.” Again, with the nickname. You feel like you’ve already outgrown it. Even your parents don’t call you that name anymore, but Heejin keeps on using it, and you don’t know why.

“Goodnight.” Deciding that it’s been long enough, you hang up first, and without even moving to the bedroom, just lay on the couch until sleep takes you.

-----

“Ah, wait!” Heejin pouts, looking at her phone. “This guy, still hanging up like that, maybe he didn’t grow that much after all.” Even while complaining, Heejin still has a smile plastered on her face.

When you left them 3 years ago, cutting off all contact, she was devastated. In one night, she lost her best friend of 20+ years, and her crush. It was with the joint effort from the rest of Loona that she is still willing to co-exist with Hyeju.

Even as groupmates, she can never forgive Hyeju for what she has done to you. Who would she side with: a groupmate of a few years, or a best friend of 20+ years? Being an idol might be her dream work, but she would never abandon you.

Ever.

And now, after years of sulking and wallowing in depression, she’s met you again with a stroke of luck. Though she can tell that you have changed a lot throughout the years, something just can’t be changed. Like how you were willing to hurt yourself to save others. Heck, you just saved the girls this evening after all.

It’s regretful that she can’t stay here for long, but now having a way to contact with you again, she will make sure to make full use of it-

“Unnie?” She turns to the open door, being caught off guard while thinking to herself. She sees Hyeju standing just outside the door. “What do you need?” Despite her best effort, Heejin’s voice still comes off as quite cold, which is understandable.

“Just now, you were talking with oppa, weren’t you?” she asks with a bit of trembling in her voice. “And it was him who saved us this evening?”

Heejin scoffs, not wanting to let Hyeju figure anything out. “Just a friend, not him.”

“But you only called one person ‘Pooh’.

Heejin’s eyes widened at that. “How much did you listen?” Hyeju turns timid at her glare. “The- the whole thing…”

Heejin faces palms herself. “And what do you want?” She isn’t trying to hide the venom in her voice anymore. “You betrayed him, twice at that. What more do you possibly want to do to him?”

Gathering her courage, Hyeju looks back at Heejin defiantly. “I want to…”

A/N 2: teehee, here’s your 5k words xD

#loona #artms #comission #male reader #son hyeju #olivia hye #jeon heejin #heejin #kpop fanfic

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 1 year

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Words: 4,019 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: flashbacks, current day is S10, The Reapers Warnings: language, violence, gore, angst A/N: This is Part 1 of a new commissioned miniseries! Thank you to @ankhmutes for their generous support! Summary: Daryl loses Y/N in Atlanta and her absence colors his years.

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Atlanta – About 10 Years Ago

He could feel your hands clasping his face, your thumbs moving lightly over the bruising and swelling. His eyes fixed on the pout of your bottom lip and then moved up to swim in the depths of your irises. Fingers in his hair, the weight of you against his chest, the pressure of your fingertips dimpling into his sides. He could almost taste your lips again. He could almost catch your scent.

“God, what did they do to you?” You threw your arms around his neck and he pressed his hands into your back to hold you tightly against him. He could feel the shuddering of your breaths and the wetness of your tears falling on his shirt. “I thought I lost you for good,” you managed, pulling back to look into his face again. Your eyes were round and glassy. “And then to find you—but this way—those men.” You were trembling underneath his hands.

Daryl ducked his head. “‘M sorry. ‘M so sorry,” he managed to croak out. “I didn’t know they—I knew they were bad but I never thought—”

You hastily clasped his face again, brushing his hair away. “Shh. I know. I know… It’s not your fault.”

His breath hitched in his chest and he melted down into you again, hugging you tightly against him. “I ain’t ever lettin’ go of ya again.” You’d kissed him and your lips tasted salty with your tears.

“Daryl. Daryl… Hey, Daryl!” Carol grabbed him by the shoulder and he startled slightly. Her furrowed brow was heavy over her blue eyes. Daryl snapped back to the present.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sorry…”

Carol straightened up, but the concern didn’t leave her face. “You good?”

He ducked his eyes and nodded. He wasn’t, but he had to be.

She sighed and looked back out the window at the expanse of burnt buildings unrolled before them. “We’re gonna find them. Both of them. Y/N and Beth.” She glanced back at the archer. His expression was grim and worn. She could feel the fear and anxiety radiating off him. “They’re both strong. They’ll be okay.”

Daryl shook his head and stared down at his hands. He was anxiously fiddling with a bit of glass. “After the prison fell, when we found each other again, I told her I wasn’t ever lettin’ go of her… I promised. And then we had Terminus… and now this… Fuck,” he swore under his breath. “Separated by a bunch of walkers?” He shook his head and leaned heavily on his hand against the window. “I shoulda made her stay at the church with everybody. Shouldn’ta even brought her into the city.”

Carol let out a soft laugh. “Made her?” she said. “Daryl, we both know no one can make Y/N do anything. She’s just as stubborn as you. Maybe more, though I don’t know if that’s possible.”

Daryl only sighed and looked over at Carol. She could see something looming, weighing on him. “I gotta tell ya somethin’.” Her brow furrowed. “Y/N is pregnant.” Carol’s breath left her in a whoosh of air. Daryl gulped, struggling to fight the tears in his eyes. “We just found out…”

Carol mustered her best smile. “You’re gonna be a dad,” she said. “Congratulations.”

Daryl paced a frantic circle, chewing on the side of his thumbnail. He turned and stared at Carol for a long moment, desperation on his face. “There were so many of them. What if she—what if she didn’t—”

“Hey. She did.” Carol grasped his shoulder hard. “She did. Y/N is a fighter. She learned from our best, you,” she said with a smile she hoped was reassuring. “She learned from you. And she’s smart. I’m sure she’s fine.”

Daryl ducked his head, his voice shaking, “‘M s’posed to protect her and I failed. I keep failin’ at it over and over.”

“Everything is going to be okay. We’re gonna find Beth and then we will go back and find Y/N. Okay? That is, if she doesn’t find us first.”

Daryl managed a nod, but that was all he had.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Noah limped up to the car and watched as Daryl frantically checked the area. “What are you looking for?”

“She’s—she’s s’posed to be here. Maybe she left somethin’,” he drawled, more to himself than anything. “She’s gotta be here.” He opened the gas cap and checked inside. Nothing. He looked on top of all the tires, under the hood. Nothing. He froze and pushed his sweaty hair back from his face. “Nah…”

Noah was looking around nervously. “It’s too open here. They could see us… We need to go. We have to go.”

Daryl slammed his fist down onto the hood of the car. How was it possible that he’d gone into the city on a rescue mission and lost two more of his family? He paced again, rubbing a hand over his face. He needed help. He needed the others. The last thing he wanted to do was leave the city, but he needed back-up. “C’mon,” he growled to Noah. “Let’s find a vehicle.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Daryl.” Rick’s voice behind him. “We can’t stay here any longer. We have to move on.”

Daryl’s hand clenched into a fist. “Ya think she’s dead, too,” he said. The gravel and grit was thick in his voice.

Rick passed a shaky hand over his eyes and then stared at Daryl’s crumpled posture.

“Go on then. Leave me here.”

Rick sighed heavily. “I can’t do that.” He paced closer. “I won’t do that. You are my brother. You belong with us. I won’t leave you alone here. We all need each other more than—” he had to pause as his voice broke. He swallowed the lump and tightness in his throat as best he could. “More than ever.”

“I can’t,” Daryl managed. He dug his fingernails into the soil and grabbed fistfuls, just to try to ground himself with something. He’d been back into Atlanta every day for a week and he hadn’t found a damn trace of you. Nothing. And he knew the group was only waiting for him… but they couldn’t wait forever. “I can’t leave—”

Rick appeared beside him. “You have to,” he said with a sigh. When Daryl didn’t move, Rick sank down beside him and stared out at the trees. The muscle in his jaw tensed as he tried to hold back emotion. He sat in silence beside Daryl with his devastation for a long time before he finally spoke again. “When I lost Lori… when Carl was shot,” he glanced over at Daryl, “I wanted to give up. God, I wanted to,” he said softly. “I did for a while. I lost myself.” His eyes drifted up to the slices of sky he could see behind the wavering leaves of the trees overhead. “But we don’t get to give up. We keep going, because we are still here. Our family is still here and we all rely on each other. We keep going because we have to.”

Daryl sniffled and hastily wiped his forearm over his face.

“So, come on, brother,” Rick said, climbing to his feet and extending a hand down to Daryl. “Come on. On your feet.”

Daryl glanced up at Rick’s hand, his blue eyes clouded behind tears. He almost didn’t grab it. But he thought of Carl, and Judith, and Carol… of Maggie’s loss and Sasha’s… People still needed him. He clasped it. Rick tugged him to his feet.

“She ain’t gone,” Daryl said, straightening up. “I dun believe it.”

Rick nodded. “But we can’t stay. If we stay here, we die.”

Daryl felt the emptiness in his chest expanding like a black hole. “I’ll come. But I ain’t givin’ up on lookin’. She’ll get outta the city. She will. She’s gonna find us or I’mma find her.”

Rick nodded again, but his heart sank into the bottom of his stomach, like it was weighted with a lead anchor.

_ _ _ _ _ _

About 9 and a Half Years Ago

Maggie saw that Daryl was still awake when she opened her eyes in the early hours after the storm. She stood softly and went to sink down beside him, looking over at the group scattered on the ground, sleeping. Their family. What was left of it. They’d lost Bob, Beth, Tyreese, and you. One after the other. Too many. Far too many… She glanced over at Daryl but he seemed to be pointedly looking away.

“He was tough,” he finally drawled, looking at Sasha sleeping across the barn.

“Yeah,” Maggie agreed. “He was.”

Daryl stared at his hands now, afraid to look Maggie in the eye and see her grief. “So was she,” he managed.

Maggie nodded. “Both of them were.” She put a hand on Daryl’s arm. “I’m sorry—in some ways, not knowing about Bethie, not knowin’ about what was happenin’ to her was worse than—than this… Wonderin’ if she was hungry or thirsty. Wonderin’ if she was scared. Just wonderin’…”

Daryl’s throat constricted into a knot. He nodded. “Ain’t no way those walkers took Y/N down… Ain’t no way. She’s too good for that.” Maggie heard the shake in his voice and sighed, leaning back against the rough wood of the barn wall.

“Then if she’s still out there, you two will find your way back to each other. I know it,” Maggie said. She glanced back over at him and mustered a sad smile. The pain on his face was clear. “Get some sleep, Daryl.”

After she walked away, Daryl laid down on his folded-up vest, but sleep didn’t come. His fingers found the rip in the side that you had stitched skillfully back together, tiny x’s of thread. They ran over and over it, just because your fingers had made it.

_ _ _ _ _ _

About 10 Years Ago

The group stepped in through the gate cautiously, following Rick’s lead, looking with shock at the near perfect suburbia suddenly unrolling before their eyes. Everyone that is, except Daryl. His boots seemed to have rooted to the concrete.

Rick saw Aaron looking back and glanced over his shoulder. The archer was frozen, staring in across the opening of the gate.

Aaron happened to catch Maggie’s eye, a questioning look on his face, but Maggie said nothing. Aaron glanced back toward Daryl. He hadn’t moved.

“Carl,” he murmured. “Take Judith for just a sec.”

By now the rest of the group had noticed too, and they’d all stopped to look back. Rick walked back out and stopped beside him, his back to the community now. He sighed heavily and swallowed the tightness in his own throat. “We do this together,” he said, glancing over to try and read Daryl’s expression. It was impassive except for a violent turmoil in his blue eyes.

“Daryl—we need you. We’re all trying this together. We’re all much safer if you’re with us.” He clapped his hand strongly onto Daryl’s shoulder and the archer ducked his head, clearly wrestling with tidal waves of thoughts and emotions. “Come on. With us.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together.

“Come on.”

Finally, his boots started to move and he crossed the threshold of the gate into Alexandria.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“You oughta come in. Take some sleep.” It was Maggie’s voice behind him on the porch.

Daryl stubbed out his cigarette on the step next to him. “I can’t,” he drawled, so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.

Maggie paced over and sank down next to him on the step, linking her arms around her knees. “I know,” she said, ducking her eyes down toward the sidewalk. “I’m so sorry. I keep thinkin’ it too.”

“What’s that?” Daryl asked, flicking his lighter open and closed.

Maggie lifted her eyes up to the innumerable stars overhead and pulled in a long, slow breath. “That maybe if we’d just gotten here sooner they’d be here to see it.”

Daryl felt like a knife twisted in the middle of his chest. It was so painful he almost doubled forward, but instead he hung his head and tried to breathe through it. When he spoke again, the struggle in his voice, his emotion was clear. “I know what ya’ll think,” Daryl managed.

Maggie glanced over at him and even in only the dim haze from the porch light she could see the glassiness in his blue eyes. “About what?”

“About—about—” He clenched his hand into a fist and pushed his knuckles down on the edge of the step as hard as he could. The pain shot through all his fingers and up his arm. He couldn’t get your name out. He couldn’t say it aloud. “‘Bout what happened,” he finally croaked out. “Ya’ll think she’s—she’s dead. I ain’t stupid. I see the way everybody’s lookin’ at me.”

Maggie’s hand landed on Daryl’s and she gave it a friendly squeeze. “I don’t think that.” Daryl’s eyes snapped up to hers. “I don’t. Because after the prison fell, I knew Glenn was out there. Even when everyone else was thinkin’ the worst, I knew he was alive. And we found each other again.”

Daryl sniffled and ducked his gaze again.

“Don’t ever give up on that, if that’s what you know.” Maggie gave his hand one more squeeze and her footsteps retreated across the porch and back into the house.

Daryl’s eyes lifted up to the night sky, and he hoped somewhere you were looking up at the same stars at the same moment.

_ _ _ _ _ _

About 7 Years Ago

Daryl startled awake in the blackness of his cell.

A dream. It was just a dream reliving old memories. At the farm, the first time you’d shot a deer with a bow and tracked it on your own. You hadn’t even needed him. You’d followed the trail like an old pro. And then after… That’s when it had happened. Everyone else had gone to bed and he was sitting by his fire, his knife in his hands, turning the blade and watching the way the light bounced off the silver edge. And then suddenly—your soft footsteps behind him. He knew their cadence.

“I thought ya went to bed,” he’d said to you. You’d sighed and sat down on the round of wood next to him. He could feel your eyes on his face but he’d stared into the flames instead, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Nope,” you’d said. You just kept looking at him and he’d finally glanced over with his peripheral vision, barely turning, and it made you laugh. And your laugh made him smile. He’d ducked his head again though. Sometimes you were too bright to look at.

“What’re ya doin’ up still? Had a big day today,” he drawled.

You nodded. “Yeah. I often can’t sleep though.” You thought of the deer, of feeding your family. It had felt good. “It was a good day,” you sighed, moving toward him onto the edge of your round of wood. He’d nodded. It had been a good day. “I want you to know something, Daryl.” His name leaving your lips—it shot electricity through him every time like he’d stepped on a live wire in bare feet. His eyes met yours again. “You’re a leader of this group, even though you don’t feel like it. There are people looking to you.” He’d scoffed and shook his head, pricking his finger on the tip of his knife. “Don’t scoff. It’s true. Rick looks to you. Carol looks to you. And so do I.”

Daryl’s blue eyes met yours again and he watched the way the flickering firelight changed the shadows and highlights on your face. You looked steadily back at him. “And it’s not just because you’re good with a bow.” You suddenly scooted closer to him and smiled. “If it were, you’d be out of the job now because I—I am pretty damn good.” He’d laughed, the corners of his mouth tugging up, shaking his head at you. You were smiling at him. You seemed suddenly nervous and you glanced down at your laced fingers. He stared at the thick fray of eyelashes fanning out toward your cheeks. “I didn’t come over here just to brag about my newfound skills, though,” you said.

Daryl’s heart had jumped. He gulped nervously. “Why’d ya come then?”

Your eyes lifted, a little wide, and looked straight into his. “Daryl—”

He didn’t know what made him do it—maybe just the way you looked at him, the firelight, the stars, something in your voice, the electricity crackling in the air like fork lightning between you and him—but he suddenly dropped down on one knee toward you and was kissing you where you sat on that round of old oak wood, and to his amazement you were kissing him back fervently. Your fingers were in his hair and touching his bare skin, and he was clasping your face with one hand and resting his other hand on the soft skin of your upper arm.

Neither of you said anything for a long moment, but the light was sparking in your eyes and you were smiling at him and then biting your bottom lip. “Do you want to… come lay down with me? Maybe we’ll be able to actually catch some sleep.”

Daryl looked at you, baffled, but he nodded. “Hell yeah.”

It was just a memory, even if it was one of the best ones. He closed his eyes again, trying to empty his mind.

But suddenly in the dark he heard your voice.

“Daryl.”

He shot stiffly upright, pressing his back into the wall. The cold concrete was pressing into all his joints. They were stiff and painful.

“Daryl.” It was your voice again in the darkness.

Nah. Ya ain’t here. Ya ain’t here… I know that. Ya ain’t in here. Ya ain’t here… God, of all the places I hoped I’d find ya, this ain’t it. Ya ain’t in here with him.

Daryl swore you materialized just then, right in front of him. He could see you, see your softness, see the slope of your nose and shape of your lips in the narrow slip of light stealing in underneath the door of his tiny prison.

“No. I’m not in here with him. Or with you.” Your fingers ran down one of the strands of his hair and he could almost feel the gentle tug of it.

So, ‘m dreamin’ again. Or I’m finally batshit insane.

“You’re not broken, Daryl. They can’t break you.” You reached to clasp his face. He swore he could feel the warmth of your hand on his cheek, the light brush of your fingertips.

He couldn’t look away from your mirage. I’m barely hangin’ on in here. I can’t—

“You can. You’re stronger than any of them.”

Daryl felt wetness on his cheeks and realized he was crying. What happened to ya? Just tell me where ya are and I’ll get outta here somehow and I’ll find ya… Just tell me where ya are.

He could see glassiness in your eyes. “Just tell me where ya are!” This time he yelled it and it echoed in his ears, bouncing off the metal all around him.

“You’re going to be okay. Just keep going…” Your fingers were light under his chin and you were smiling back at him.

Don’t leave me. Please, dun leave me in here alone again.

“Hey. I’d never leave you alone. You know I’m always with you, no matter what. Just keep going.”

Y/N. Please—Y/N? Y/N!

More tears broke out over his cheeks, but the vision of you had vanished and he was back in the dark again. A quiet sob escaped him and he punched his fist into the wall until he couldn’t bear it anymore. He fell to the ground in a curled pile and cried as softly as he could until he had nothing left.

_ _ _ _ _ _

About Five Years Ago

“Hi,” Carol emerged out of the brush, ducking beneath a low hanging branch, Dog leading her.

Daryl glanced up at her. “Hey. ‘S’goin’ on?”

She lifted up a small pack. “Nothing. Brought you some supplies.”

He nodded, watching her carefully. “Thanks.” Carol set it down beside the fire and scratched behind Dog’s ears. “Ya wanna tell me why ya really came back out here?” He fiddled with the strap over the handle of his knife.

“Can’t I visit my best friend? Have you found anything?” Carol asked, hazarding a glance up in his direction.

He ducked his head and shrugged. “Not yet. Got more places to check still.”

Carol nodded and went back to petting Dog. He watched her expression darken and tense.

Daryl stiffened. “What? Why dun ya just say it?”

Carol stood up. “Say what?”

“Whatever it is ya really came out here to say,” Daryl said.

Carol sighed. “I just—I wonder who it is you’re really searching for out here. Rick or her or maybe yourself… Daryl, it’s been five years since Atlanta and you haven’t found a single thing… Two years since we lost Rick and—”

Daryl’s jaw clenched and he nodded. “Ya want me to move on with my life, right? Come back, stop bein’ out here. That’s really what ya want.”

Carol looked down at her boots. “I want you to find some peace. I don’t want to lose you out here, okay? I don’t want to lose you because you don’t know when to stop.”

“Peace?” His blue eyes bore into Carol’s. “There ain’t no peace for me, alrigh’? You know what I lost in Atlanta. ‘M glad ya found yer peace, but I dun think that’s gonna happen for me.” He slung his pack on over his back and his expression finally softened some. “Ya ain’t gonna lose me. I just got things to do out here…

_ _ _ _ _ _

One and a Half Years Ago

This was it. Maybe he’d managed to kill Alpha, he still wasn’t sure, but he was going to bleed out here on the floor. His vision was blurry and he fought the blackness creeping in from the edges as best he could.

Your face swam in his mind. Your smile. The texture of your hair between his fingers. The feeling of your silky skin and the curve of your spine when he’d trace his hand down your bare back as you both lay tangled in the sheets. If he was going to die… at least you were the last thing on his mind.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Present Day – Twelve Years After the Outbreak

Daryl opened the door to Maggie’s shipping container. “‘S’all clear. Cole’s on watch.” She nodded and he stepped farther inside. “Hey, ‘m glad yer here. When yer letters stopped, I thought—I dunno. Maybe ya were gone.”

He watched thoughtfully as Maggie finished wrapping the fabric around the gash on her arm. She looked up at him and there was a teary smile on her face. “Ya better sit down, Daryl.”

His stomach twisted. “…Why?”

“‘Cause I got somethin’ to tell ya.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #Carol Peletier #maggie rhee #Rick Grimes

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morri-draws · 28 days

Text

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 11

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 2,963

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Read on Ao3

You’ve done as Gaius instructed, and returned to your regular duties, sewing the harvest outfits for the king and queen. You spent the remainder of yesterday working once you got back from your visit to Gwaine’s bedside. Now you’ve spent the entire day doing so, sighing and rubbing your strained eyes when you put your needle down at last.

You prepare a simple dinner and begin to eat at the table, your now otherwise unoccupied thoughts wholly on Sir Gwaine. You shove another spoonful into your mouth, almost choking when there’s a rapid knock at your door. You quickly swallow your food as you rush to the door and open it.

“He’s awake!” Merlin beams.

You gasp and, wasting no time, leave your chambers, your remaining dinner abandoned.

Merlin opens the door when you arrive at your destination, allowing you to enter first. You look to the bed, spotting Gwaine’s face gazing back at you from his reclined position. You make your way over to him, anxiety flaring as you realise that, as excited as you have been for Gwaine to recover, you are nervous to see him now, since the last time you spoke, it was not on pleasant terms.

You pull up a chair at his bedside and sit down.

“It’s good to see you awake at last,” You say, finding it difficult to hold his gaze for long.

“I needed my beauty sleep,” Gwaine smirks.

You smile, relieved that he is feeling well enough to jest.

“I was just telling Gwaine, before I fetched you, how you visited him while he was unconscious,” Merlin says from across the room with a mischievous smile.

Your cheeks warm. “Yes, well… I wanted to make sure you were getting better,”

“I’m feeling much better, now that you’re here,” Gwaine says softly.

You look away from his tender gaze. “Where’s Gaius?”

“He’s gone to inform Arthur,”

“I was informed before the king?” You ask in disbelief.

“Well, your chambers are closer, and besides,” Merlin says. “Arthur could stand to learn a little patience,”

The three of you chuckle, but Gwaine’s laugh turns into a groan as he clutches his side. Your hand automatically moves to touch Gwaine’s arm in concern. His eyes dart from your hand to your face and you blush, pulling the hand away. Gwaine opens his mouth to speak when the door suddenly swings open and the king enters, followed by Gaius.

“Gwaine,” He grins, crossing the room and extending a hand. Gwaine extends his own and they grasp arms as male friends often do. “I knew you were too tough to be bested by mere raiders,”

“We all know I’m the strongest knight, despite what Percival might think,” Gwaine grins.

The king laughs and claps his hands together. “Well, I just wanted to see for myself that you’re on the mend. I expect to see you back at training very soon,”

“I’m afraid I cannot allow that, sire,” Gaius interjects. “Sir Gwaine will need time to recover from his wound. Vigorous exercise is sure to reverse any healing that has occurred,”

“Very well,” The king starts for the door, but turns to point a finger at Gwaine. “But don’t even think about laying it on thick to avoid coming back training. I know what you’re like,”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Gwaine replies playfully.

Arthur smirks, before leaving, the door snapping shut behind him.

“That man has an unnatural obsession with physical punishment,” Gwaine says as soon as the king is out of sight.

You look to Merlin and you both grin, relieved and glad to have the jesting knight back with you.

“Can I return to my own chambers, Gaius?” Gwaine asks.

The physician looks up from his workbench where he’s tidying up. “I would prefer if you were to stay here a bit longer, Gwaine. You have only just become conscious again,”

Gwaine groans. “I long for the comfort of my own bed. Don’t you, Gaius?” He looks down meaningfully at the bed he’s lying in.

“My patients’ well-being comes first,” Gaius replies. “Besides, how do you suppose you will get from here to your chambers? You haven’t even managed to sit up yet,”

“These two will help me,” Gwaine gestures to you and Merlin.

Gaius sighs. “Very well. But,” His expression becomes stern. “Be very careful not to reopen your wound,”

“I will, Gaius,” Gwaine carefully props himself up, then looks between you and Merlin. “Let’s go,”

“Wait a moment,” Gaius retrieves a bundle of fabric from nearby and tosses it to Gwaine, who holds it up, revealing a shirt. “We can’t have you walking about the castle half-naked,”

Gwaine carefully slips the shirt over his head and eases his arms into the sleeves. “There we are,”

Merlin approaches the bed, putting an arm around Gwaine’s back and helping him to stand. You get up from your chair and put an arm around Gwaine from the other side, you and Merlin both taking some of the knight’s weight as he rests an arm on each of your shoulders.

“Take it slow,” Gaius instructs as the three of you head out the door.

You and Merlin guide Gwaine through the corridors of the castle, taking the stairs extra carefully. You try not to focus on the fact that this is the closest you’ve ever been to Gwaine, and the most physical contact you’ve ever had with each other. You notice out of the corner of your eye that the knight gives an occasional glance your way, but you stay focused on the path ahead to avoid the possibility of turning beet red from gazing at him from such a close proximity.

In over double the amount of time it would usually take to make the distance to Gwaine’s chambers, you finally arrive. Merlin opens the door and you both lead Gwaine to his bed and assist him to sit on the edge.

He sighs. “Much obliged to you both. Now, Merlin,” He gives his friend a meaningful look.

Merlin smiles and heads back to the door, gently closing it behind him as he leaves the room without a word. You’re struck with mild alarm from being thrust into this situation, just you and Gwaine alone.

Gwaine clears his throat. “So…”

Seeing no chair nearby, you take a deep breath and perch on the edge of the bed too, about three feet between you.

“I want to start by saying how sorry I am,” You begin. “My behaviour toward you was unforgivable. The thought that I hurt you makes my stomach turn,” You look down in shame.

“(Y/N), please don’t be so hard on yourself,” He replies. “I forgive you,”

You meet his gaze, which is absolutely sincere.

“You are not at fault here,” He continues “It was a misunderstanding, and you were led astray, which is why I want to talk things through now. I would like you to tell me what happened between when we spoke in your chambers about Sir Leon, and when we last spoke, at your chamber door,”

You wince at the memory of the terrible exchange of the latter.

“Are you sure we should do this now?” You ask. “It’s getting late, and surely you need rest,”

“I can rest later, once I’ve heard your account. Please…”

You sigh deeply, clasping your hands in your lap. “Alright, where to start? I suppose I should begin with when I returned to Camelot after my rescue from those bandits. I admit I… was afraid to see you. I felt so wretched and I was worried I would be terrible company. I thought I wouldn’t be able to laugh with you anymore and… that I was spoiled,”

You touch the side of your head where your hacked hair is hidden underneath the fabric cap. You glance up at Gwaine, sorrow and anger in his eyes.

“But you came by my chambers,” You continue. “And we had our talk about Sir Leon. I didn’t see you for three days after that, but I thought perhaps you were busy. On the fourth day, I went out to fetch some water, and I saw you walking with a woman, who was very elegant and pretty. I didn’t think much of it until later. On the way back to my chambers, I overheard your sister speaking to someone in the courtiers’ wing. They were gossiping about what happened to me. Erika said that you’d gone off me. She knew what had happened to my hair and said I was too ugly now for any man to want me. I rushed back to my chambers, upset, and thought of what she said, and how I hadn’t seen you in three days, but saw you with that woman, and I imagined that your sister was right. I couldn’t face seeing anyone, so I didn’t answer my door to any who came by. I only left my chambers to conduct fittings or go to the market, which is where I saw Erika again, I believe with the same friend as last time. She said that she’d seen you head to my chambers a few times, and she assumed that you… that you and I…”

“You don’t have to say it,” Gwaine says, clearly livid, but attempting to keep his voice steady.

You nod in thanks, before continuing. “She also said that back home, the townspeople hid their daughters from you. I ran into you in the courtyard, just after I’d heard all that, and I was so cold toward you, thinking of those terrible things Erika had said. I returned to my chambers and thought over everything, questioned everything. I thought of those bandits and the things they said, how they made me feel like I wasn’t a person, but just something to be used, and with all those things your sister said… I thought that you’d just wanted to use me too,”

Your voice wavers and tears well up in your eyes. Before you can say any more, Gwaine’s arms are around you and your face is buried in the crook of his neck. You stay like that for a few moments, taking comfort in his warm embrace as your tears soak through his shirt, before pulling away and wiping your eyes on the back of your hand.

“The next day we spoke at my chamber door,” You continue. “I need not repeat what was said, for I’m sure we both remember. I spent much time reflecting after you left, realising how foolish and cruel I had been. I was afraid you would never want to speak to me again. But Merlin visited me the next day, and with his encouragement, I planned to seek you out after your evening training. So, when the time came, I went to the knights’ quarters and no one was there, then I found out you’d all left on an urgent mission. Now… here we are,”

“Here we are,” Gwaine repeats with a sigh.

“Do you see how foolish I’ve been?”

“No,” Gwaine protests. “What I see, is that you’ve been in a delicate state since those terrible events with the bandits. I see that during your time of distress, my sister made things worse. You needed to be treated with gentleness, but she inflicted her venomous words upon you,”

“But she never spoke directly to me,” You interject. “I only ever overheard her talking to someone else,”

“Knowing Erika, I’d say she knew you were able to hear. At least in the second instance,” Gwaine shakes his head. “And with you already feeling low, you believed the things she said,”

“I should have known better,” You hang your head.

“You are not to blame,” Gwaine puts a hand on your shoulder, his gaze intense. “Not one bit, you hear?”

You hold his gaze, seeing nothing but earnestness, and you nod. Gwaine removes his hand and rests his elbows on his knees, fingers threaded together.

“I would like to tell my side of the story now,” He says. “Hopefully it’ll clear some things up,”

You shift your position on the bed, moving so your body is fully facing Gwaine.

“Those three days where I didn’t see you,” He begins. “The first, Arthur had us go on another patrol to check for bandits. He didn’t want to chance it that any more people would be taken and sold to slavers. By the time we returned we were all exhausted, so I didn’t come by to see you. The second day, since I had made up with Leon that night after we spoke, all us knights went to the tavern, glad the tension was behind us. We stayed there late, so by the time I got back to the castle, it was past any reasonable hour for a visit. The third day is where I made a mistake. I was planning to see you, and told the other knights such, but they wanted to go back to the tavern to try to make back the money they’d lost gambling the night before. I let them persuade me to go with them instead of seeing you. With things freshly mended between me and Leon, I didn’t want to chance causing any more friction, so I did as they wanted. I came by your chambers the next day, but received no answer. By the sounds of it, you’d already heard some of Erika’s foul words by then. I had supposed at the time that you must have been out, but perhaps not?”

You shake your head. “I heard the knock, but I didn’t want to see anyone,”

Gwaine nods in understanding. “In regards to that woman you saw me with. I’d hazard a guess and say she was a friend of Erika’s. I’d never met her before that day, and she was asking me odd questions, some about you. I only gave vague answers since the whole thing seemed suspicious,” He frowns. “Now, about the things my sister had to say about me: she has taken the smallest grain of truth and warped it into a terrible lie,” He sighs. “Remember when I told you how things changed after my father died?”

You nod.

“I didn’t go into everything,” He continues. “It was an unhappy time. My mother’s greatest wish was for me and Erika to marry well. Our reduced position upset my mother greatly, so she would constantly push us onto wealthy, unmarried sons and daughters of nobles, hoping a good match would come of it. I couldn’t stand it, to be permanently tied to someone just for the money… so I rebelled. I purposely botched any courtships my mother forced me into, and instead sought the company of the innkeep’s daughter,”

“Did you love her?” You ask.

“I thought I did at the time,” Gwaine grimaces. “But I think I realise now that what I actually loved was the sense of freedom I had when I was with her. Time with her was time away from nobles and my mother’s schemes. Anyway, Erika found out and told the innkeep, who was furious. He forbade me from so much as looking in his daughter’s direction. It was shortly after that I left town. I admit I was a terrible flirt during my time wandering, but… I was lonely. I was travelling alone, never staying in one place too long since I usually got into trouble wherever I went. I just wanted to feel some kind of connection… but it was only ever just dalliances or words thrown back and forth, with no sincerity or meaning behind them,”

Feeling reluctant to ask the question, you push yourself to do so anyway.

“Were you feeling lonely when you first spoke to me?”

Gwaine looks into your eyes. “No. Since being here, becoming a knight… I’m in a very different place now. I have a home, friends, duty. But that day we first spoke, I saw a damsel looking very lost, and felt it was my knightly duty to assist,” He grins.

You smile. “And taking me to the baker’s for fruit and custard buns – was that a knightly duty?”

Gwaine chuckles, wincing slightly and clutching his side. “No, that was me wanting to get to know you better. Just from speaking to you a little, I got some sort of sense about you,”

“Sense? Like a psychic sense?” You tease.

“No, nothing like that,” He scoffs. “I got a sense that you were very genuine… true to yourself. And you liked to jest and to laugh. What was it you said on our picnic?”

You shake your head, unsure as to what he is referring.

“That was it,” He smiles. “‘One should never underestimate laughter, and cherish those who make them smile,’”

A blush blooms in your cheeks as he gazes at you, his eyes brimming with warmth, and a sensation washes over you, of a massive weight being lifted from within.

“I’m so glad we’ve been able to talk things over at last,” You say.

Gwaine reaches out, taking your hand in his. “Me too,”

You look down at his hand enveloping yours, and stroke along his knuckles with your thumb.

“The hour is late,” You gently remove your hand from his and stand up.

“Don’t go yet,”

“Gaius will have my hide if he finds out I kept you from resting,”

Gwaine groans. “Will you visit again tomorrow?”

“I will,” You smile. “But I won’t come until around midday, so make sure you have a nice, long beauty sleep,”

“Why around midday?”

“I do have a job, you know,” You smirk.

“Of course. Well, I will be counting down to the hour,”

“The only thing you need to worry about counting is sheep,”

Gwaine chuckles. “Goodnight, (Y/N),”

“Goodnight, Gwaine,”

#gwaine x reader #reader x gwaine #gwaine #sir gwaine #merlin fic #bbc merlin fic #bbc merlin #reader insert #merlin bbc #my writing

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