#like. i couldn’t be being any more Black Sails about this but hear me out: i’m RIGHT

[starbuck]

Watch Ravenous (1999) while thinking hard about the themes of Truth and Shame and maybe you’ll calm down

#or maybe you’ll get increasingly more agitated as you slowly lose your mind… who’s to say! #it’s truly soooooooo upsetting #the FIRST line in the movie is a lie told by the US military to further glorify itself #where’s that Black Sails quote about Civilization pruning imperfections from its vine (WILDLY paraphrasing)? bc that’s what it is #and then looking at each character and their relationship to Shame is sooooooooo fascinating #i’m just. #like. i couldn’t be being any more Black Sails about this but hear me out: i’m RIGHT #Civilization weaponizes shame against those it oppresses to dissuade them from finding common ground and resisting it #it encourages its subjects to view failings as the fault of individuals as opposed to systemic failings injustices and cruelties #that’s all in there if you know where to look #and if you watch the deleted scenes lol #this probably makes zero sense without them but they are Necessary #and again - i’m happy to link them to anyone - just hmu #ravenous 1999

[jon-withnoh]

heyy responding to the top 100 post, how about Danbecca and Nr. 69, I'd love to read it :)))))

There was a smudge of lipstick on her sleeve. It was Rebecca’s lipstick, a dull red against the black of her dress. She had not noticed it when dressing Rebecca. It was only now that she had been relegated to this quiet room while Rebecca dutifully sat through her engagement dinner that she had had a moment to think. She had sat in the window seat for almost an hour now, pondering everything that this dinner would mean. An early summer wedding, surely, and a honeymoon that stretched into September. And then… what? 

Danny’s mouth twitched. She knew what would happen then. Married life. Children. Rebecca’s glow fading with every passing year. Rebecca did not take well to being contained, she never had, no matter how grand her prison had been. First boarding school, from which Danny had heard impassioned accounts when Rebecca was home for the holidays. Then a few more years at her childhood home. Presiding over her father’s dinners, running the household in her late mother’s stead. Stolen days here and there. Attending parties with school friends — two words only Danny knew to be code for something else entirely — a weekend in the country to go riding, summer by the coast in her sailing gear. 

How would Rebecca live without her little freedoms? Danny could not imagine that any husband of Rebecca’s would allow her to continue as she had. 

There was a small commotion in the hallway. A moment later, Rebecca slipped into the room. 

“You need to hem this before I wear it again, Danny,” Rebecca said at once. “It caught in my shoe. I nearly knocked over a very expensive vase.” 

“This type of skirt is meant to be long,” Danny said patiently. “You’re supposed to lift it while you walk.” 

“I know, I know.” Rebecca rolled her eyes. She took a few more steps into the room, lifting her skirt almost above her knees. “Something like this, no?”

Danny could not help but smile. Her gaze flitted down Rebecca’s leg, the silky fabric of her stocking, the silver buckle of her shoe. “Why aren’t you at dinner?”

“Oh, I said I needed to powder my nose.” Rebecca shrugged. “I was dying to hear your opinion.”

“My opinion on what, madam?” It was easiest to feign innocence. Rebecca need not know how much her impending nuptials had occupied Danny’s thoughts. 

“You opinion on Max, silly. You know my assessment of him won’t be complete until you’ve told me what you think.” 

And yet, Danny thought, you are already engaged. 

“Well?” Rebecca had squeezed into the window seat next to Danny, one hand coming to rest on Danny’s thigh. “Tell me.” 

“He is very handsome, madam.” A glimpse of him in the foyer had been sufficient to ascertain that.

“I know that. What else?”  

Danny sighed. “He appears to be very well-bred. He certainly has money.”

“And?”

“There’s not much else for me to observe from a distance, madam.” 

“I suppose not.” Rebecca pursed her lips. “Father approves.”

“He would be a fool not to. Mr de Winter is more than able to provide for you.”

“Still, it’s dreadfully rural, isn’t it? Cornwall. I’ll spend most of my time paying calls and receiving dreary people for tea.” 

“You’d be calling on people in London too. It’s not so different.” 

Rebecca shrugged her shoulders again and leaned back against the window frame. “I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad if you were there.” 

“Pardon?”

“I want you to come with me to Manderley. Father can talk all he wants about hiring a new maid once I’m married, but I don’t want any of them. I won’t have anyone but you. Please Danny, say you’ll come with me? I couldn’t bear to go if you weren’t with me.” Rebecca’s eyes were wide, her face earnest. She reached out her hand. 

Danny took it without hesitation, even though her heart was racing. Go with Rebecca to Manderley. Spend each day with her there, dressing her, observing her, enduring each change in her as long as it meant Danny never had to leave her. A future full of Rebecca morning, noon and night. Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca. 

“Please, Danny.” Rebecca squeezed her hand. “I’ll beg father to pay for one of the London courses for you if you’re worried about your duties. Not that I think you should be. I’ll do anything. Please just let me keep you.” 

“Of course, madam.” Danny’s mouth was dry. “Of course I’ll come. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you.” 

So, song number 69 was wildly unsuited for Rebecca fic (I don’t remember what song it was, but believe me it did not work). I went with the next song instead which was “When the Chips are down” from Hadestown. I hope you enjoyed!

#Ask games #rebecca das musical #danbecca #mrs danvers #Hadestown #when the chips are down #tumblr oneshots

[savvythepirate]

Depths of hell

Pairing: Hector Barbossa x reader

Warnings: None

Requested by: @personlovinganime

***

“Over my dead body!” You protest.

“(Y/n), you know that this is something I need to do, I can’t take you with me, it’s too dangerous.”

Barbossa was trying to negotiate with you on staying behind for the sake of your safety.

Being the stubborn gal you were, you proceed to protest as if you didn’t hear what he just said. To make it easier for others to understand, there was no way in hell you were going to allow Barbossa for leaving you behind. You may be Tia Dalma’s adoptive daughter, but that doesn’t scare Barbossa in the slightest. It was during the curse of the Black Pearl Barbossa started having visions of you. He had never seen you before, nor had he ever experienced such visions. Barbossa didn’t know if you other than the fact his gut instinct was revealing you as his soulmate. The minute Barbossa saw you for the first time in person, he was taken back by surprise the fact you were sailing with Jack Sparrow and his crew. If he pushed that thought aside, he would be more taken back by your beauty, inside and out.

The moment you turn to look at him, that was all it took to see some kind of chemistry between you both was for the chemistry to start making itself known. Upon seeing each other, Barbossa couldn’t help but wonder what your hands in his would feel like if he took your hand, but because of the curse, touching you would get you killed and there was no way around it. Or so you thought. Barbossa kept his own distance to keep it from happening. As the battle had come on, you were in shock as you watched Jack becoming Barbossa’s killer to save Elizabeth for the second time.

It was a horrible scene to witness, so much so that you went back to your adoptive mother, Tia Dalma and remained there for a period of time, looking to get away for a while. After what you had witnessed to what should’ve been the final phase for Barbossa’s death, you’ve come to the fact that he’s more than likely dead, not having any chance on surviving after being killed that night. You let yourself in upon your arrival of your home in which you lived with your adoptive mother, Tia Dalma. The minute you step inside, you were greeted by something unusual, what seemed to be a dead man laying on a spare bed as if he’s in a casket. Not a very warm welcome, it was more disturbing to you until you recognized him as Barbossa.

The one that’s supposedly dead. During this little timeline, you’ve come to accept the fact he was truly gone and that denying it wasn’t an option to take time and grieve. This is where the chemistry settled in, so all you could really do now was stare, expecting for him to wake up any time now at any given moment. You got lost in a trance that you don’t hear someone else walk in, greeting you, a greeting that had you nearly jumping out of your skin, but once you see who it was, you were able to catch your breath.

“I pulled him from the depths of hell, he will wake up soon, at any moment.”

“What’s going on here?”

“I saved him from death.”

“Why? What for?”

“For you, my sweet.”

You don’t say another word as you could hardly believe it. As you were about to speak, Tia spoke again.

“He’s about to wake up and when he does, he will need someone that will provide the best care, just until this man is stable enough to leave.”

Not long after, you move over to his side and remain there to wait for him to wake up.

When Barbossa wakes, you’re the first he sees and that gave him a bit of peace because he does in fact, remember you. What you don’t expect was for him to say your name, which slightly startled you as it was out of the blue.

“(Y/n)?”

You than tend to him without hesitation, before he begins asking you some of the same questions that you might have in that moment.

“What happened? Where am I?”

“You’re home with me, and I’m here to take care of you.” You explain.

Following along that response, you continue to fill him in on everything that happened that had led you to what you thought was his death. Mentioning to him that the curse was broken and over.

Prior to that, that’s how you’re finding yourself in that situation. Barbossa made a quick recovery and the minute he has the all clear to head back out, he is was wanting for you to stay behind, but with the promise he would come back and pick you up later.

You disagreed and you weren’t having it.

“No way, I’m not letting you leave me until later! I’m coming with you now, Barbossa and there’s nothing you can say or do about it, to prevent that from happening!”

Barbossa sighed in defeat.

“Fine, you can come with me. But don’t blame me if something bad happens and you’re stuck with me in it.”

“Deal.”

Now that you could agree on.

Even with the thought this could be putting your life on the line, you weren’t going to let anything or anyone stop you or stand in your way. This was a new adventure, a new chapter in your life and you couldn’t wait.

Adventure calls for you and the man you’re meant to be with.

It couldn’t get any better than this.

***

@savvythepirate

Requests: OPEN

Tags: @royisrandom @always-on-hiatus @imalittleoutthere @princessofthornsandroses @justafairytailofinnocence @friendlynova @marsswann

Characters:

• Jack Sparrow

• Davy Jones

• Hector Barbossa

• Will Turner

#jack sparrow imagines #jack sparrow imagine #jack sparrow x reader #jack sparrow #hector barbossa imagines #hector barbossa imagine #hector barbossa x reader #hector barbossa #davy jones imagines #davy jones imagine #davey jones x reader #davy jones #pirates of the caribbean imagine davy jones #will turner x reader #will turner #pirates of the caribbean imagines #pirates of the caribbean imagine #pirates of the caribbean x reader #pirates of the caribbean #i take requests #requests wanted #requests are welcome #open for requests #taking requests #requested #request #requests #send in an ask #ask is open #ask box

[kootiepatra]

#FFxivWrite2023 - Day 18: Fish out of Water

The sea stretched out before her in a shimmering expanse like nothing she had seen before. To be sure, the Shroud had plenty of water of its own—majestic waterfalls and rivers, large lakes that required a ferry to cross. But there was something about the sea that was different. It was breathtaking. She couldn’t believe it had taken her some thirty summers to see it.

Keimwyda required a minute on the airship landing anyway to regain her land legs after the flight in. She savored it, drinking in the sight of the Rhotano, hearing the crashing of its waves, smelling—well, there was a freshness to the salty sea air, but also an unmistakeable smell of fish and blasting powder and oil. Limsa Lominsa was a busy working city, after all. She marveled at the way it rose above the waters, towering whitewashed walls tied together with curving paths and gangplanks. 

She wondered what her father had thought of this view. Assuming his business ever took him to the airship landing, that is.

Sighing once more at the view, she reluctantly backed away from the railing and made her way towards the lift that would take her to Bulwark Hall, practically straight to the Admiral’s office.

Their meeting was brief and to the point, and went well. Keimwyda managed to remember her message and deliver it without too much fumbling, despite being mildly intimidated by the—unsurprisingly in hindsight—commanding air that Merlwyb Bloefhyswyn had about her. But she had been welcoming enough, and asked her to relay a message of her own to the head of the Immortal Flames in Ul’dah.

Sure. No problem. Just the second new city in less than a day, meeting another prominent world leader, bringing messages from not one but two other nations. How did this backwoods girl from the Black Shroud get here, again?

With Merlwyb’s blessing, however, Keimwyda elected to take the long way back to the landing. She did not mention her father’s history here, but she dearly wanted to see the city. As Miounne had suggested, though, she kept one hand loosely on her coinpurse. 

While her father had told her some about the city, including good memories, he did not seem to be under any delusions as to its flaws. Keimwyda had vague memories of asking him to tell her about what Limsa Lominsa was like.

“Well,” Sylbdhem had said, after considering his answer. “There’s good people there, and some bad people there. But that’s true of just about anywhere. Always look for those good people. Anyway. It’s a busy place, and a beautiful place. I met my best mates there, and I loved sailing with my crew. But... ah, let’s just say that it didn’t take much convincin’ for me to follow your mother to someplace new.”

As he had been vague, endeavoring always to be gentle with her, Keimwyda now had to read backwards to connect the dots in what he had said. She could only imagine what it must have been like in his days, before the Admiral had taken the helm. She did remember Miss Estelle saying something about him not wanting to raise his little girl there.

But still, it was a part of him, and he had been a part of it, and she found herself looking for him everywhere. She even occasionally thought she saw him in the faces of weathered deckhands wandering about the port. …But then it occurred to her that in the more than two decades since she last saw his face, things would have changed. If he was still somehow alive—which was admittedly doubtful, at best—he would not look so tall next to her anymore. She wondered what kind of crow’s feet would crinkle at the corner of his eyes, what kind of silver would now streak through his dark gray-blue hair. She did miss him.

It was surreal to finally, actually be here. And for the first time in her life, she was in a crowd she could actually get lost in. She was not the tallest person here. Sea Wolf Roegadyn were everywhere, not least among them the Admiral herself. She was so used to being “the Roegadyn woman” around town and even on ventures into Gridania, that she boggled to realize someone would need more descriptors than that to identify her here. It felt—good.

Yet she also expected to feel more connected here than she did. She wasn’t sure she expected it to feel like home, but neither did she expect to feel so lost. Literally, now, as she had taken a wrong turn or two on the winding paths, but figuratively, as well. On the one hand, she enjoyed seeing the hubbub—such a difference from sleepy Gridania—people ambling everywhere, scrambling to ready ships that dwarfed any ferry she’d ever been on, drinking together, arguing together. Buskers on various instruments, some of which she had never seen, blared from every free corner. Barkers in the markets advertised their wares, and full-throated laughter was everywhere. It was a wonder. 

But the raised voices and, er, colorful language, was not like what she was used to. The people had a rough, brash manner about them that she didn’t remember of her father. He had his rough edges, to be sure—and she definitely recognized his particular brand of slouching at the table that she saw scattered about the taverns as she went. But he had always been so gentle, so kind, his gravelly, weathered voice always soft in how he used it. He was well-liked by the village in the Shroud, and Miss Estelle said that he had been much beloved by his crewmates, including her late son.

But Keimwdya could also believe he felt the same sort of discomfort, the same sense of not quite fitting in. He was certainly the type to find greater enjoyment in a quiet night around a home-cooked meal than in bawdy tavern songs and arm-wrestling. She needed far more time to get acquainted with this city, of course. And of course the loudest and the biggest version of everything would be what filtered to the top of the din. She should reserve judgment. She could believe she could learn to love it here.

But in sharing his environs, she also was learning something about Sylbdhem Ganzhortsyn—just not quite what she had expected to.

#ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023

[demawrites]

Prompts – Lines from Black Sails

“Are you as surprised as I am that I’m the only one here behaving myself?”

“Give us your submission and we will give you all the comfort you need.” “I can think of no measure of comfort worth that price.”

“I could walk out there and tell them the sky is red and they’d believe me. That’s the power you’ve given me.”

“Everyone is a monster to someone. Since you are so convinced that I am yours, I will be it.”

“We are at our least rational when we’re at our most vulnerable. If nothing else, this is a good reminder that, without a doubt, she is the point at which I’m at my most vulnerable.”

“A choice between you and I? She and I have been by each other's sides since she was thirteen years old. We have sailed together, we've killed together, we have shared things you couldn't begin to imagine. You've shared a bed with her for a week.” "You would be amazed what could change in a week in my bed.”

"Did he say how he went into the water?” "He said he lost his footing and he fell. He said you tried to save him.” "And how did the crew react to hearing that?” "Stunned and surprised I would say.”

“I have seen what she can build when she is feeling ambitious. I have seen what she can destroy when she is angered.” "Which of the two was she just now?” "She was something else entirely.”

“It was as if the sea had conjured that man out of nothing, and then taken him back for some unknowable purpose. When I first met Mr. Gates and he asked me my name, I feared the man I was about to create. I feared that someone, born of such dark things, would conceal me were I not careful. And I was determined to wear him only for a while, and then dispose of him when his purpose was complete.“

“You and I both know that there are men on both sides of this war whose identities are so enmeshed in this conflict that they are more afraid of ending it than they are of losing it.”

“When the dread moment arrives, your true nature will assert itself.”

“Right now, good men is not what the moment requires. Right now, the time calls for dark men to do dark things. Do not be afraid to lead them to it.”

“The Empire survives in part because we believe its survival to be inevitable. It isn’t. And they know that. That’s why they’re so terrified of you and I.”

“The threats have been made, the story’s been told.”

“I was so close to saying yes. There were good reasons to say yes and I heard it in my mind, trying to speak it over and over again. When the moment finally came, I spilt so much of myself into this place, in that moment I honestly didn’t know where I ended and it began. There may be ways of severing oneself in that way — sacrificing one part to save the other. In that moment, I honestly couldn’t find something sharp enough to make the cut.”

“Never let anyone stand in between you and your ambitions. Thank you for teaching that to me.”

“The closer we get to the end of this journey, the more contradictions we’ll accumulate — confusing issues we once thought were clear. I suppose the good news is, that’s how we’ll know we’re finally getting somewhere interesting.”

“The people he holds closest are most at risk of being consumed by him.“

“Worry ain’t a good look for a king. Not in a kingdom like this...where loyalty is in short supply.”

“It seems the only means I have in registering any meaningful disapproval of this deal at this point is to kill one or the both of you.”

“I beg of you, is there any way you can forgive me? That was the general sense of what I thought I might hear, coming from your mouth, were I ever this close to you again.”

“The new world is a gift. A sacred opportunity to right our wrongs and begin anew. And I do not want my family's plot in it to be the reason for its fall.”

“All this will be for nothing. We will have been for nothing. Defined by their histories, distorted to fit into their narrative, until all that is left of us are the monsters in the stories they tell their children.”

“Nobody will believe it’s possible until we show them. But when that day comes, you know what they’ll say? They’ll say that it was inevitable.“

“This is how they survive. You must know this. You’re too smart not to know this. They paint the world full of shadows… and then tell their children to stay close to the light. Their light. Their reasons, their judgments. Because in the darkness, there be dragons. But it isn’t true. We can prove that it isn’t true. In the dark, there is discovery, there is possibility, there is freedom in the dark once someone has illuminated it. And who has been so close to doing it as we are right now?“

“No matter how many lies we tell ourselves, no matter how many stories we convince ourselves we’re a part of, we’re all just thieves awaiting a noose.” 

“A story is true. A story is untrue. As time extends, it matters less and less. The stories we want to believe, those are the ones that survive, despite upheaval and transition and progress. Those are the stories that shape history.”

“The only thing I’m ashamed of is that I didn’t do something to save him when we had the chance. That instead, I listened to you.”

“And every time I said my name, they knew my name. The first thing they said every time was your name. Like we was two halves of the same thing. I can’t be your wife. But you and I are gonna be partners till they put us in the f***ing ground.”

“You’re an educated man, my lord, but I think it worth reminding you that in most cases a man trying to change the world fails for one simple and unavoidable reason… everyone else.”

“Me, I can’t help myself. I see an opportunity, I take it. It’s a sickness.”

"If you're going to behave like children, then I will be your daddy."

"It ain't cowardly to want to do a hard thing smart."

“I once thought that to lead men in this world, to be liked was just as good as feared. And that may very well be true. But, to be both liked and feared all at once, is an entirely different state of being.”

“This ends when I grant them my forgiveness. Not the other way around."

“To be underestimated is an incredible gift.”

“What if the result of this war isn't beyond the horror? What if it is the horror itself?”

“A long time ago, I absolved myself from the obligation of finding any. No need to account for all my life’s events in the context of a story that somehow defines me. Events, some of which, no one could divine any meaning from other than that the world is a place of unending horrors. I’ve come to peace with the knowledge that there is no storyteller imposing any coherence, nor sense, nor grace upon those events.”

“This is the most dangerous part. Look at him. His mind is drowning in questions.”

“You don't know me, but you once did, when I was the lowest among you. Now I return, and I offer you a chance to be free of this place.”

"I will go on, from time to time. But generally in the service of thoroughness."

“Great art has felled empires”

“I want to see this whole goddamned city, this city that you purchased with our misery, burned. I want to see you hanged on the very gallows that you use to hang men for crimes far slighter than this. I want to see that noose around your neck and I want to pull that fucking lever with my own two hands!”

“I have known you like no other. So I love you like no other.”

“I think you're fighting for the sake of fighting! Because it's the only state in which you can function. The only way to keep that voice in your head from driving you mad!”

“I will guide you through it, but at its end is where you must leave me. At its end is where you will find the peace that eludes you, and at its end lies the answer you refuse to see.”

#Black Sails #Writing prompts #prompts #favorite lines

[ahungeringknife]

365: February 23

Yeap went a bit insane about Lemp and Anceion for a week or so. Rotating in my brain like rotisserie chicken

--

Now that the storms had faded and the fury sated Anceion looked down at his heap of a brother blackened by the wrath of the sun, body broken as the scorched earth he had been cast onto. Anceion was not without his own injury but even the paltry wounds did little to mar his radiant golden skin. “I think that’s quite enough,” Anceion proclaimed.

“You’re such a useless brute,” Lemp groaned from the ground which never ceased to inflame Anceion’s fury. As mangled bones and body cracked and snapped back into place the black ash flaked and cracked off his silver skin. “Mother would be so disappointed,” his golden eye looked at Anceion through wild silver hair.

A lance of pure white hot magic ripped itself through the sky and slammed into Lemp’s body. The god didn’t even yell out as his skin was blistered and flayed from his body from the extreme heat. When Anceion dispelled the magic Lemp was unmoving and after a moment made a soft, pained, groan.

“Yield,” Anceion said.

Lemp said nothing and pushed himself up to his feet, the black ash cracking off his body like a shadow. He pushed back his long silver hair from his face. Anceion still resented how much more he looked like mother than Ancieon did. Like she’d done it on purpose. “And let you go it alone? No, I don’t think so,” Lemp said and the next Anceion knew was his brother had an arm over his shoulder. “I think you very much need to calm yourself,” and he patted Anceion’s chest and he felt his heart starting to stutter and strain. “Mother knew you’d make a mess of things if left to your own devices.”

Anceion shoved Lemp off him and when a radiant beam came down on Lemp again he just raised his arm to deflect it. “I don’t need the help. Never have,” Anceion spat.

“Ah yes, because you’ve done such a great job since she’s been gone,” Lemp said and waved his other hand to indicate the landscape around them. It was barren. Desolate. Just like the rest of the planet.

“Because you wouldn’t leave me to the work,” Anceion snarled.

“It is also my work,” Lemp said tiredly.

That infuriated Anceion and the radiant beam’s power increased forcing Lemp to his knees even as he held it back with his arm. Anceion was first born. It was his work. “I’m stronger than you, just stop,” Anceion said.

“Only in the light, brother. And you always pick your petty battles when you are radiant,” Lemp said but was straining under the weight of godly power bearing down on him. Where the magic was being deflected it was melting the land, turning it into lava and plasma spitting and hissing as it came to life. Then Lemp looked at him with golden eyes that Anceion always hated. “If you really want me to stop you’ll have to actually kill me. If you can even do that without fucking it up,” he said in quiet reservation.

The magic lance ceased. Magic couldn’t kill a god. Only a personal assault would do. Anceion formed a perfect golden rod with a bludgeoning club at the end. “Fine,” he said through clenched jaw.

Lemp went sailing the first time Anceion struck him across the head with the club, skidding on the cracked dirt before with a groan trying to get to his feet again. Anceion walked over to him and hit him again. And again. And again. Lemp curled into a ball, protecting his head. Anceion got on top of him and wrestled his hands away from his head.

But all the blood drained out of Anceion’s body when he heard Lemp scream for the very first time as he drove the end of the club down into his face. For all their fighting Lemp rarely fought back and other than grunts or groaned never showed any signs of pain. Of course not. He was a god. But hearing his brother scream made Anceion freeze as everything inside of him went cold. Above them one of the moons had exploded. Lemp writhed on the ground under him and Anceion realized what he’d really been about to do. He’d been so blinded by jealousy and anger about… what? That mother had given him a brother?

He cast aside the club and Lemp was clutching one side of his face still howling in agony. “What did I do?” Anceion asked himself softly looking down at Lemp as black blue blood poured from one side of Lemp’s face. It was something he couldn’t heal himself and that was a cold hand around Anceion’s heart. “Lemp,” and he pressed a golden hand to the side of his brother’s silver face. Lemp was never the healer, Anceion always was. He could feel that his left eye was completely ruptured and destroyed as was some of the socket with a huge crack in the back from Anceion smashing the end of the club through it.

Lemp’s noises of pain petered out as Anceion healed him until he was just breathing hard, his silver skin covered in sweat for the first time in exertion and trauma. “Anceion,” he groaned.

“I’m sorry,” Anceion bemoaned.

Lemp removed his hand from his eye and while Anceion had healed everything the eye was still gone and hung uselessly out of its socket. “My eye is gone,” he said, other golden eye wide in fear. “My eye is gone,” he said again and it sank right into Anceion’s heart.

This was his fault. Now that his brother was so permanently wounded he realized he hadn’t really wanted Lemp dead. He just wanted to be trusted with the work without Lemp over his shoulder at every moment. But wasn’t that what he was supposed to do? Lemp said the work was also his and Anceion knew it to be true. “It’s alright, brother,” Anceion said gently.

Lemp looked up at the sky and pointed. “One of my moons,” he said and Anceion finally looked up at the exploded moon. It was already starting to drift around the world in pieces. “Anceion my eye- my moon,” but he didn’t even sound like he blamed Anceion. He just sounded stunned. “How am I going to keep watch in the dark without both my eyes?” he asked softly. “Mother said I needed to be the watcher at night,” and he sounded heart broken he’d failed their mother. Anceion felt that as his own failure. He’d done this.

“It’s alright, brother,” Anceion said already knowing what there was to be done.

Lemp looked at him. “Are you done trying to kill me, Anceion?”

“Yes,” Anceion said with a heavy voice and leaned over him, hugging him. “I’m so sorry.” Lemp hugged him back. “I’ll fix it. I swear I’ll fix it.”

“I think you’ve done enough,” Lemp said and it was a blistered fist around his heart. “Thankfully you’re such a fuck up, couldn’t even kill me properly,” he coughed out and Anceion couldn’t even find the rage in him. Lemp was right. And thank mother he hadn’t actually killed Lemp.

“No. I will fix it,” Anceion said and sat up looking down at his brother’s destroyed eye. He placed his palm on the destroyed socket but not to mend it. There was no mending it. Instead he used magic to cleanse and prepare it. Lemp just winced with his other eye in discomfort.

“Anceion you don’t have to. I could do it,” Lemp said.

“Shut up,” Anceion snapped. “For once in your miserable life listen to me.”

Lemp sighed and shrugged. “Whatever you say, brother.” Once the socket was prepared Anceion didn’t hesitate and tore out his own left eye.

Lemp grabbed his arm. “What are you doing, fool?” he demanded.

“Shut up,” Anceion growled as black blue blood spilled down his face and for a moment they wore the same scar. Anceion pushed Lemp’s hand away and fit his own silver eye into Lemp’s socket. Above them the light of the suns felt a bit less intense and Anceion felt it strongly. The light was less than it had been a moment ago.

Lemp blinked his eyes up at Anceion, one gold their mother had given him, and one silver Anceion had. Anceion knew it was a perfect fit, a perfect transplant because whatever Lemp wanted to say Anceion did nothing in half measures. “Brother— you didn’t have to do that,” Lemp said softly.

“No. I did,” Anceion said and finally picked himself up off Lemp. When he looked up at the sky there was still only one moon and the other was starting to stretch across the sky as a ring. It would be some time before it was a proper ring though. And the two suns were different too. Gone were the two white blue suns that had matched Anceion’s eyes. Now only one remained and the other burned cold but still bright enough to see from this world as a sort of strange brown-purple color against the bright sky. This was the cost of his mistakes and his anger.

With a sigh Anceion put his hand over his left eye and cleaned it up but there was no remaking a god’s eye unless mother came back. And she wouldn’t be back. She wouldn’t come back. He let golden skin grow over the hole in his face before walking off.

“Anceion, where are you going?” Lemp called after him.

“To do the work,” Anceion called back, like he should have this entire time and not bickering over who deserved to do it with his brother.

He heard Lemp scramble to his feet. “Well wait for me,” he said and caught up with Anceion quickly. “We’ll do it together, just like mother wanted us to,” he said and smiled.

“I suppose,” Anceion allowed and Lemp put his arm over his shoulder as they walked off.

#365 #writeblr #writblr #original fiction #original fantasy

[benditlikepress]

one good movie kiss

here for @sunforgrace 's thesis statement: give dean one good movie kiss and he WILL be alright

“Are you avoiding me?”

Dean’s hand stills in the air above his cup of coffee as the voice cuts through the kitchen.

Cas is standing in the middle of the room in an ill-fitting sweater and his hair is dishevelled as though he’s been tossing and turning. He looks so unremarkable, so human, it makes Dean’s breath catch in his throat at the reminder.

It’s been three days since Cas got back and it occurs to Dean when he speaks that it’s the first time they’ve been alone together. Awake, that is: Dean realised early on that difficult conversations couldn’t happen if you’re asleep. Thank god for Cas’ Empty-rescue hangover.

“No. I’m not avoiding you.”

“OK. Good. I was worried that after what happened things might be weird between us, but I suppose that’s unavoidable.” Cas pulls a face that’s a little self-deprecating.

I’m fighting the urge to run the hell away from you, Dean thinks. To stay the hell away from you before I do anything else to hurt you. Before you make a reckless decision to save me, again, or say something so brutal and true that my legs give out from under me and I’m left sitting alone on the floor wondering how the hell I’m supposed to do this on my own.

I’m fighting the urge to wrap you in my arms and never let go.

“I’m not avoiding you, Cas. I just.. I’m trying to figure out the stuff I have to say to you.”

“I understand. I know everything that’s happened recently is a lot to contend with.”

“Yeah, that’s an understatement.” Dean coughs and stands up, tapping his hands against his legs for something to do. Cas is looking at him expectantly and Dean knows he deserves answers but how is he supposed to do that? How do you even begin to explain to someone that their mere presence in the room has your breath hitching? “But it’s not.. you. It’s not you I’m avoiding. It’s just. Y’know. The stuff you said before you..” He doesn’t say it. He can’t. Cas blinks.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. That’s – god, that’s the last thing I want. I’m just.. trying to get my head around it.”

“I meant it.”

“I know you did. I know that. I just.. I believe you, and nobody’s ever really said that stuff to me and meant it before. So I don’t really know how to talk to you about it. But I.. so long as you know I appreciate it.” The words are too fast and Dean doesn’t know if that’s more or less embarrassing than the way he’s stumbling, pathetic half-words forcing their way out of his mouth.

“OK.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

And it’s that simple to him, apparently. He doesn’t ask Dean for anything else. It pisses Dean off, actually – he wants Cas to ask him. Maybe if he’s forced to confront it the words might come out a little easier.

“I mean, you know that I.” Dean stops again abruptly and jesus christ why is there a lump in his throat? “It means something. To me. It means a whole lot, actually. Maybe if it didn’t it’d be easier to talk about. There’s stuff that I wanna.. stuff I need for you to hear. That you deserve to hear, when I get my head out of my ass. Because I don’t feel like I deserve any of that crap you said to me, but you deserve to hear things back.”

It feels like a monumental admission but it’s clearly not the thing on Cas’ mind as he frowns.

“You think you don’t deserve that? You really believe that?”

“Honestly? I’ve never believed it. I don’t know why you give me the time of day half the time, man. And you don’t have to.. argue about it, or anything. I know you want to. It’s just how I see it.”

Cas thinks about that for a couple of seconds, eyes boring into Dean so deeply he half-wonders if he can’t still see his soul. He walks further into the room but doesn’t approach Dean – not really. Just takes a couple of steps between the distance.

“I won’t argue. Not now. But I hope I can make you understand that you deserve it. Happiness, peace.. love-” The word has Dean’s mind reeling, flashbacks and heat rushing “– I spent a long time believing I couldn’t accept them for myself. I thought too much had happened, or that I wasn’t built to be capable. You allowed me to think differently. I want you to do the same.” Cas looks down and taps his hand on the edge of the table as though he hasn’t got Dean’s heart in the palm of it. He looks up again and his expression is breath-takingly earnest. “Dean, the things I said barely touch the sides. I don’t know if I could ever put into words the impact you’ve had on me since we met. I just wanted you to understand. I needed you to understand how other people see you, even if you can’t see it for yourself.”

“Message received.” Dean responds like a fucking asshole but Cas smiles all the same, warm and knowing and in a way that fills Dean with the relief of being understood.

“I can give you space to think about things if that’s what you want. I know I’ve put you in a difficult position.”

“It’s not difficult. Probably not for anyone else except me.”

Dean smiles in derision and Cas returns it but it’s pity and sadness and love and Dean’s mouth closes. “It was difficult. I threw things at you that’d been on my mind for a long time and didn’t give you any time to process it.”

“I’ve had weeks. Weeks and weeks, and I still can’t.. I think until I saw you again I had no idea how to understand it. Looking you in the eye and thinking about it-” Dean closes his eyes and pushes away black ooze and secrets and everything else that threatens to flow over the things he wants to remember. Tears in Cas’ eyes and his smile so bright, brighter than Dean even thought him capable.

He’s looking at him now like he might break.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I know I’m not-”

“I know exactly what you are, Dean.” The words are clear and sincere and Dean wonders if there’s anyone else in the universe capable of arresting him so simply. “I’ll leave you to it.” Cas eventually nods at Dean’s breakfast and smiles, dipping his head as he starts to leave.

“We’ll talk. We will.”

“I know we will.” He smiles a little as he turns to walk away and suddenly Dean’s heart is in his mouth at the sight of the back of his head.

Say something. Say something.

“Cas.” Dean calls too quickly, too desperately, and when he turns to look at him with naked expectation all of the wind is knocked right back out of his sails. “I… fuck, Cas. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He smiles with complete and utter sincerity, and god he has to stop doing that. Stop accepting Dean’s bullshit as though it’s nothing. Shout, argue, anything.

He’s leaving. He’s still leaving, he’s turning away and suddenly Dean’s legs are propelling him through the kitchen of their own accord.

Dean grabs his arm and yanks him around, the force of it making Cas briefly stumble a little before he straightens his feet and looks at Dean with a wide-eyed confusion that makes Dean’s heart hammer in his chest.

Dean brings his hands up to cup Cas’ face around his ears on his neck and jaw, in a way he has before and convinced himself wasn’t ever possible when they weren’t battling life or death. Cas’ stubble is a little longer than usual and he strokes the line of it with his thumb, watching as Cas’ mouth falls open just a touch in the echoing silence.

Dean takes his time, registering every mini-movement of expression in Cas’ face as he understands what’s happening. His hand comes up to Dean’s wrist but doesn’t push it away, rather grips it for dear life as though he’s afraid it’s going to disappear. When Cas’ eyes travel down his face Dean takes it as invitation and closes the gap between them, pressing his lips lightly but surely against Cas’.

At first Cas’ are stunned frozen against his and Dean starts to panic that he’s made some kind of earth-shattering error in judgement before the hand on his wrist relaxes and he feels a pressure against his mouth. Cas’ lips are a little chapped, like always, and Dean feels his eyelashes flutter.

He opens his eyes reluctantly as he pulls away, not sure what he’s expecting to see (rejection? Lucifer? nothing at all?) and almost slams them shut again when he finds Cas peering at him with such utter arresting devotion he thinks his knees might buckle.

Dean’s hands drop to his sides of their own accord, suddenly absolutely terrified, but Cas doesn’t move away in return. In fact, he brings his hand to Dean’s cheek and Dean’s sure he must look like a fish opening and closing his mouth in stunned silence before suddenly Cas moves in to kiss him again, other hand coming up to grab his face and hold him in place as his lips are ferocious and impassioned against his own.

And this, this is more like it, Dean’s barely able to think as Cas’ mouth opens and his tongue plays along the line of Dean’s own lips, his heart hammering in his chest as he hears a noise in Cas’ throat as he allows him entrance.

Cas kisses like he’s never going to get another chance: like Dean has granted him a once-in-a-lifetime wish that’s going to get taken away at any moment. He’s hungry and sharp and warm and Dean feels breathless as he lowers his hands from his face to his neck and then to his hip, pulling Dean sharply against him as Dean’s own hands cup his jaw and try desperately to gain a semblance of control.

There’s stubble scratching his face and he tries fleetingly to explain away the flushing burn on his skin as a by-product of it, but then there’s a hand riding up his shirt onto on the bare skin at the small of his back and it’s on fire.

Where the hell did Cas learn to kiss like this? His head is spinning before he can ponder the question and fingers on his back are steady and grounding even as Cas’ tongue and lips and breath have him practically able to feel the earth spinning beneath him.  

The kiss slows steadily and then all at once as Cas’ lips lighten against his, and he feels him exhale against his skin in a release that Dean himself is desperate for. He knows it’ll come, eventually: in every moment he allows himself to open like this, touch on his skin making him feel alive.

Cas pulls away and Dean feels a longing form deeply and harshly in his throat that barely stops him from yanking him straight back in again. He forces himself to open his eyes, wondering if Cas can see water pricking in the corners of them.

“Don’t give me space, Cas. I don’t want it.” He manages to say though his voice sounds foreign and weird to his own ears, like it’s formed by someone else. There’s that smile on Cas’ lips again and he feels a desperation to say something, anything, that’ll keep it frozen in time. “Just stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.” Cas’ own voice is quiet now and Dean’s fingers somehow find themselves reaching out towards Cas’ hand, pulling it a little.

“You wanna do something today?” He says, just for something to say. Anything to prolong the moment.

“OK.”

“Sweet.” Dean nods and tips his head away, running a hand through his hair to try to gain some composure as Cas smiles at him as though nothing’s happened.

Dean has to pinch himself to check that it has.

#supernatural #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfiction #my fanfiction

[ithinkilikeit-reactions]

Siren Song (Song Mingi)

Ateez Masterlist                                                    Group Masterlist

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MINGI!!!!! I hope he has an amazing day

I wrote this being incredibly inspired and I quite like how it turned out so please let me know what you think

Tags: Pirate au! Mingi x Fem siren! Reader, death, nudity, alcohol

Smut tags: Quite soft, explorative, Mingi is curious, oral (reader receiving), passionate sex, body worship, a lot of kissing, cumming inside

Word count: 6177

Sirens, they were a beautiful myth. A story that sailors told to convince themselves they weren’t going mad at sea. A legend... if that’s what you believed in. 

But they weren’t a legend, they were very real. Some pirates and sailors would tell you that, tell you their stories. That they had heard their beautiful songs at sea and were almost lured in. Although not many, if any believed them. Being a pirate or at sea for a long period of time makes a man lose his credibility. However sirens, were very very real. 

Mingi was new to the boat, a fresh faced, wide eyed, young man who was ready to see the world. Becoming a pirate wasn’t something he had planned, it’s not something anyone truly plans. But society had failed him, because of his status. Being accused of something he didn’t do and found guilty, he didn’t have a choice but to run. Mingi feared nothing more than death, if he was caught he’d surely be hanged. 

No, becoming a pirate was never what he had planned. After running, he stowed away on a goods ship and somehow found himself in a pirate hotspot. Surrounded by pillagers, murderers and some things even possibly worse, he was terrified. Until a cheery man approached him named Kim Hongjoong, had a proposition for him, an offer to get Mingi out of there and give him a family. A man in his position could hardly say no. 

Now he was here, staring over the rails of the ship as they sailed slowly over misty water. He hadn’t been on waters like this in his entire life. They were filled with mystery, so much so it gave Mingi the feeling of fear in the pit of his stomach. 

“Carefull, lean over too far and you might fall in.” Yunho joked as he placed some crates on the deck. “I could’ve sworn I saw-” “You saw something in the water? Not uncommon in these parts.” Yunho told the younger, watching his expression shift. Mingi was a bit paranoid, you had to be when you’re life took a turn the way his did. 

“It’s common here?” Mingi asked, feeling a wave of security flow over him. He was just relieved to know he wasn’t the only one seeing things. “Very common. Don’t scare him Yunho, you were just as scared as him the first time you came here.” Captain Hongjoong’s voice startled the both of them, making them whip their heads around. “Sorry captain, I couldn’t help myself.” Yunho apologized and the captain shook his head with a smile. “Go bring those crates down to storage, Yeosang is waiting on them.” Yunho wasn’t one to disobey orders, so he grabbed them and left. 

“Don’t let them make you crazy. Or this part of the sea. I’ve known plenty of men who’ve gone crazy in these parts. I like you Mingi, don’t let yourself become one of them.” Hongjoong placed his hand on the younger’s back and watched as he smiled at him. “I won’t, Captain.” Mingi laughed slightly, feeling more at ease by the second. Hongjoong smiled at him in return before going to walk away, only to turn back at the last moment. “If you hear the sweet song of a woman, ignore it.” 

All that ease Mingi felt suddenly disappeared at those words, because well he didn’t quite understand what he meant. Siren’s weren’t common knowledge or a local myth in the town he grew up in. 

Scared, the man backed away from the railing and carried on with his tasks. Ignoring any sound that came from anywhere other than the ship. He was so immensly paranoid now , but there was also something in the back of his mind that his crew mates were just messing with him.

That evening, he found himself drinking with Wooyoung and San, admittedly his first mistake. He didn’t know how it was possible but with those two, he found himself drinking way more than he normally would. At least he was a happy drunk, cheery as ever this way and almost forgetting the reason he was there in the first place. The crew felt like real friends however, similar to one’s he had before running away so he didn’t quite have the right to complain. 

Mingi placed his bottle down on the deck and swayed over to the side of the boat. He felt like he was going to be sick, not that Wooyoung and San would’ve noticed. No they had long fallen asleep like the rest of the crew

Leaning over the deck, he looked at the black water. It was terrifying to him because of how deep it was. He couldn’t see anything, just a sea of black surrounding him. If he wasn’t nauseous before, he most definitely was now. 

When he looked back at the water, he wasn’t expecting to see eyes looking back at him. Let alone warm eyes, full of life, blinking at him from the water. It was a woman seemingly bobbing along and just watching him. He could only see her face and he wasn’t even sure he was actually seeing it. 

“It’s the alcohol.” He mumbled to himself, blinking and rubbing his eyes. But she didn’t disappear from sight. As a matter of fact, it seemed like she had swam closer. “Are you a pirate?” Her voice was smooth, warm in contrast to the brisk air and it made her all the more real. Mingi was frozen, just staring back at her with wide eyes and taking in the details. 

It seemed like she was surrounded by light, it reflected off of her damp skin as she raised her head and body more. Now exposing her bare shoulders, he realised she wasn’t wearing any clothing and averted his eyes, but only for a moment. He had caught something out of the corner of his eye, something silver that reflected the moon light. 

It was a shiny, silver tail that practically glowed. The closer he looked, the more he noticed that it was attached to her and well the more his fear rose. Though he wasn’t sure what the fear stemmed from, if it was not knowing what this creature was, or that he thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

“What are you?” He asked, staring at her with an intrigued expression. Mingi couldn’t help but get goosebumps as she laughed, throwing her head back and expelling the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. “That’s not a very kind question... though in hind sight I asked you the same thing.” She said, lifting her hands to move her long wet hair from her face. This left her body even more exposed to him, as she bobbed along the water. Though she didn’t seem fazed by it one bit. 

“How about this, you answer my question and I’ll answer yours?” She rebutted and Mingi stood with his mouth agape. “Alright.” He barely choked out and watched as she disappeared under the water, only to appear closer to the ship again. Now that she was closer, he could see her face better and he felt himself get nervous. She was beautiful, an ethereal being. 

“Are you a pirate?” She asked again, a curious smile on her face as she looked up at him. “I am.” Mingi responded, watching as she clapped her hands in joy. “Oh I do so much like pirates. So much more interesting than fishermen.” Her eyes sparkled as she spoke and Mingi was lost, as if she had cast spell. “Their stories are so much more interesting.” She added on before locking eyes with him once more. 

“Your turn.” She smiled at him and Mingi dried his hands on his pants, the situation had caused a cold sweat to form. “What are you?” His question was simple, yet still made the woman laugh again. “Surely a pirate knows a siren when he sees one, though if that was the case you probably would’ve tried to kill me.” She rambled as her tail splashed the dark water lightly. “A siren?” Mingi asked, not quite having heard the word before. “A siren... surely you’ve heard of them. You must be quite new to sea.” She said softly, the young pirate intrigued her. 

“Tell me your name, handsome pirate.” She asked softly and Mingi felt himself doubt whether he should tell her. She somehow managed to see right through him, however she called him handsome and that made a feeling bubble in the pit of his stomach. “Mingi.” He said it softly, merely a whisper, one he didn’t think she could hear. “Mingi.” She repeated much to his surprise. “Mingi... I like the way that feels to say.” She added on and he leaned down a bit more, trying to get closer to her. 

“Mingi, make sure to ask your crew about sirens.” She giggled before disappearing underwater, only to appear further away. Mingi’s heart sank, not wanting her to go, not yet. “Wait! Wait! At least tell me your name!” He called out to her, watching as she halted once more. She turned to look at him and with small laugh, she told him. “Y/N, my name is Y/N.” 

Mingi couldn’t find sleep, not at all after that. There was question in his mind whether all that he saw that night really happened. He had drank a lot and he had been at sea longer than ever before. It must’ve been a dream, a vision even. You were a dream, a vision. 

“Did you drink that much last night?” Captain Hongjoong asked, staring at his younger crew mate. He was gazing off into the distance, eyes small due to lack of sleep and hands restless. “No, I just couldn’t sleep.” Mingi admitted, not quite wanting to ask anyone about what he had seen. But if anyone would tell him seriously, it would be the captain. 

“What’s bothering you?” The man could tell when something was bothering his crew and it was incredibly obvious that something was bothering him. “It’s just something San and Wooyoung said yesterday...” “I told you not to listen to their stories.” The captain laughed and Mingi shook his head. “No, I just- what are sirens?” Mingi choked out the question, the thing that had been on his mind all night. Hongjoong wasn’t expecting the question to lead here, he thought the man knew.

“You don’t know? I thought you did when I made my comments yesterday.” He watched as the younger shook his head. “Well, many think they’re legend. I suppose I understand why, the brain refuses to believe what it can’t see. But they are very much real.” He paused and Mingi was starting to become scared. Maybe it was his captain’s tone of voice, or maybe it was the validation that you weren’t a figment of his imagination. 

“They’re beautiful beings, more beautiful than any of the other evil things put on this earth. Top half of a beautiful woman and the bottom half a tail. Not to mention their voices, they lure sailor men in with their song and beauty. Only to drag them to bottom of the ocean and drown them. Most sailors fall for it, they just want a kiss from the beautiful thing so that when they go back home they have a story to tell. Fools, can’t blame the creatures for doing it.” Mingi was mortified at his captain’s words. To think he found you to be the most beautiful thing in the world. The prettiest things were the deadliest, that was what Mingi was starting to learn. 

Mingi took the words as warning, if you appeared again he wasn’t going to give you the time of day. At least that’s what he told himself. Despite the tale, he wanted to see you again. So badly, he found himself dreaming about you. His eyes deceived him as stared out at the sea, he could have sworn he saw the sunlight reflect off of your silver tail.

But he had to push the to the side, there was an island incomming. It was nothing more than a small island, no living thing in sight. Nothing but beaches and trees, good enough to hunt and good enough to make sure the men didn’t go crazy on board. Which meant everyone around was scrambling around and preparing to drop the anchor. 

His eyes were glued on the water as they rowed to shore. Mingi was entirely sure he would never see you again, they had travelled quite far in the last 2 days and well it’s not like you had a reason to stick around. He was sure of it, but he didn’t want to be right. 

The plan was to stay on the island over night, sleep in the tree line and then go back in the morning once they had gathered enough and hunted enough. Simple enough.

Well, night rolled around quickly and the crew was sound asleep. Everyone except Mingi, no he had hardly slept a wink since you visited him. He simply laid in his hammock and counted the stars through the tree tops. That was until he heard a song. An absolutely heavenly voice coming from the shore. 

Mingi knew he shouldn’t have gotten up, he knew it. But there was a chance that it was you and he just couldn’t help himself. He wanted to see you again, despite what his captain had told him. 

The sand crunched beneath his boots as he slowly walked over to the shore line, scanning the beach and looking for the source of the voice. Looking over, he could see a group of rocks and on top of the largest one, he spotted it. That familiar glow of your tail in the moonlight and the way you looked up at the sky and sang. 

Waling slowly, he listened to your song and your beautiful voice as you stared at the night sky. The closer he got, the more he found his chest aching. He couldn’t tell if it was with fear or desire and that line got more blurred the closer he got. 

“Mingi!” Your voice was cheery when you noticed him approaching you and it was accompanied with an enthousiastic wave. “Surely Y/N isn’t as malicious as Hongjoong told me.” He thought to himself as he stood in front of the rock. You were as beautiful as ever, sitting in front of him. 

“I was hoping you’d be the one to come and find me.” She teased, a soft smirk on her lips as Mingi tried not to gawk at you. “You’re even more handsome up close.” She added on and he felt himself get nervous. “You told me to ask my crew what a siren was. I did.” Mingi told you, playing with his hands so he had something else to look at. “Hmm and what did they tell you?” You were staring at him, truly wanting him to look at you again. 

When Mingi finally brought his eyes back to you, he noticed that your tale was gone, now showing a pair of legs and a very, very bare body. “How?-” He stuttered and you laughed, loving the surprise on his face. “They apparently didn’t tell you everything. if we’re dry and on land, we have legs.” You explained, watching as his eyes trailed over your body. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Mingi asked, finding it better to be straightforward from this point on. It’s better to have feigned confidence than nothing at all. “No. You fascinate me. I don’t kill the things that fascinate me.” You were so blunt about it, raking your hands through your hair. “Come here, pirate and tell me your story. It’s not every day a pirate doesn’t know the legend of a siren. Whether they believe it or not.” Mingi was caught off guard, not sure what to do. The sea was far enough away, which comforted him because he knew you couldn’t drown him on this rock. 

He moved to sit across from you on the rock and tried to avoid staring at your bare body, averting his eyes before shrugging off his vest and handing it to you. “I’m sorry, I’m having a hard time concentrating.” Mingi stuttered, you smiled at him though and an odd feeling shot through your chest. “Most sailors would simply enjoy.” You said and slipped the clothing over your shoulders. Mingi shook his head, a small smile now forming over his own lips. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy it.” He clarified and looked at you wearing his clothes. You were beautiful. 

“You’re a different type of man, Mingi.” Why his name sounded so good coming from your lips, he had no idea. But it was absolutely addicting. 

“How did you end up out here?” You asked, stretching your legs and leaning back. You loved a good story, where as your sisters didn’t quite like talking but preferred a siren’s typical methods. 

“This wasn’t how my life was supposed to be, I wasn’t supposed to end up here.” Mingi had te delve deep for a moment. Sure some of the crew knew his story, but it wasn’t something he told just anyone. 

“I lived in a town that was quite progressive, I worked under and iron smith as an apprentice. I did good, I was a good man and i just tried to make it by like anyone else.” You watched as he spoke, taking in his details and tone. He was sad. “I never tried to hurt anyone and if I did it wasn’t on deliberate. But my master, he wasn’t good. He actively tried hurting people, especially ones he hated and he didn’t hate anyone more than his own daughter. I never understood why, she was pretty, kind and well liked among the town but he hated her.” Mingi had to pause, remembering that time, remembering the sweet girl that was always so nice to him when he worked. 

“I came into the shop one day and found her, dead on the ground, strangled. Her father did it and pinned it on me. Claiming that I ‘always watched her when she was around’ and that I was ‘just wait for a chance to be alone with her’. I-” Mingi was cut off when a tear dropped from his eyes. You had placed your hand on his chin, wiping it away with your thumb. “You never touched her.” You said softly, scanning his face. “I never did, They were going to hang me for something I didn’t do. I had to run.” You continued to wipe the tears from his face, moving onto your knees to get closer to him. 

“And that’s how you ended up here.” You had heard many sad stories in your life, but none of the men had seemed nearly as regretful as Mingi did in this moment. Your hand moved from his chin to his cheek, taking in his handsome features. Even when he was upset, he was handsome. Sharp jawline coupled with a sharp nose and pillowy lips. Definitely one of the more handsome men at sea. 

“You know in your heart that you didn’t do it.” You said softly, moving your fingers to thread through his hair. Mingi found himself staring at your face, taking note of your sympathetic face. Surely you weren’t the murderous creature he was told you were. 

“My sisters aren’t fond of men, they kill them for sport. But I like hearing the stories, it takes a lot to drive a man out to sea.” You explained and gently pulled his face closer to yours. Mingi felt himself sink into your touch, allowing you to guide him into laying down with his face settled in the crook of your neck. Your skin was soft under his touch and his hands found your waist to hold onto as he relaxed. Your nails scraped over his scalp lightly, making him hum. 

“You have a pure soul.” You said softly, enjoying his touch. Mingi didn’t know what had gotten into him, he had went from being scared of you to being held by you and well he was enjoying it. Your touch was comforting. 

Your legs tangled with his, fingers still running through his hair. “Go to sleep Mingi. Dawn is almost upon us.” You whispered, kissing his forehead and allowing him to lul to sleep. Mingi had let his guard down fully for you and as ridiculous as it sounded, he was falling in love. 

The hours in your arms, were the best hours he had ever slept. Being in such a deep dream that he didn’t think even an earthquake could wake him. He dreamt that he was underwater and absolutely weightless. Just floating under the surface of chrystal clear water. You were swimming circles around him, silver tail catching the rays of light from the sun as you did so. He felt as if he was one with the ocean. 

It wasn’t until the feeling of something pushing him (quite roughly) woke him up and brought him back to reality. “Jesus Christ Mingi, we thought you’d be killed by something. What are you doing all the way out here?” Wooyoung’s voice was shrill as he yelled to wake Mingi up. “Huh?” He shot up from his position on the rock, looking around frantically for you. But you were nowhere to be found and well, neither was his vest. 

“What are you doing out here?” Wooyoung asked again and Mingi shook his head, needing to come up with a response and fast. “I uhh couldn’t sleep last night, went for a walk and then sat down here. Guess I fell asleep.” He cleared his throat and blinked at his friend. “You’ve been acting strange Mingi. Are you alright?” He asked, voice full of concern. Mingi never acted this odd, Wooyoung was worried. 

“I’m fine, just haven’t been sleeping properly.” He admitted and ran his fingers through his hair. Your touch was still lingering on his skin, he could feel you everywhere. 

“Captain wants to stay here one more night, founds some caves and a lake he wants to check out.” Wooyoung explained and Mingi nodded. “Alright, I’ll be around in a bit.” Mingi said softly, needing a moment to process some things. Where had you gone?

He had managed to pull himself together, rejoining the crew in exploring the island. Traipsing through the trees, he looked around the area and took it in. One thing he could admit was that he never would have seen half of the beautiful things he had if he had stayed in his village, you included. He couldn’t take that for granted, especially not as he was standing in front of a small waterfall that fell into a small crystal clear lake. 

“Wow.” He said quietly, feeling Hongjoong clap his hand onto his back. “Not something you see everyday.” His captain said, a big smile on his face. Mingi couldn’t help but crack a smile himself, shaking his head. “Definitely not something you see everyday.” He laughed, looking over to the waterfall and laughing. The bad feeling he had had about you was gone, the bad feeling in his gut was gone. Airing his worries out to you made him feel better, things were looking up in his opinion. Maybe he would sleep properly from now on too. 

The pirates made camp near the water and Mingi found himself once more staring into water. It was so clear but you couldn’t see the bottom. It was deceptively deep, someone could easily make the mistake of swimming too deep and not make it back up for air. It looked like the water from his dream.  

The feeling of gentle fingertips gliding over his cheek woke him up that night. He knew his crew wouldn’t spare him the same gentle touch, it had to be you. “Wake up handsome.” Your fingertips moved from his cheek to his chin, stroking it gently as you took in features. Truly handsome. 

“Where’d you go this morning?” Mingi asked, eyes opening slowly to see your face. He watched as your lips curled into smile and your eyes sparkled. “Come on.” You said softly, taking his hand into yours. Pulling Mingi from his bed, he didn’t even question it. He had decided that this island was his paradise. 

“You stole my vest.” Mingi commented once they were further away from the rest of the crew. He watched you let out a hearty laugh and turn around to look at him. “I found myself quite liking it. I think i could get used to this clothing thing.” You smiled, before tugging him closer to you. 

He felt his breath hitch for a moment as your chest met his, it was a natural reaction. The only thing keeping his body from yours was his vest, naturally he was flustered. Mingi pressed his chest against you, the weight of his body making you step backwards until your back hit a boulder. 

“You keep calling me handsome.” Mingi remarked, his hand coming up to rest on your bare hip. It was the first time a man’s touch had made goosebumps form over your skin. “You keep calling me handsome and I don’t think I’ve told you how beautiful I think you are.” His words made you almost shiver. Of course you had heard them all before, he wasn’t your first pirate or sailor. But surely they had a different effect on you than most. 

You grabbed his chin again, this time with more force than any of the other times. Mingi flinched slightly only to find your lips not inches apart from his and he took the risk. He was going to kiss a siren. 

He didn’t intend to kiss you so roughly, but need took over as he pressed his lips to yours. You moved your hands to his hair and gently scratched over his scalp as he kissed you. Deepening the kiss as you did so, you could feel him hum against your lips. His hand moved up, from your hip to your waist underneath vest and his grip tightened slightly. 

Mingi moved his hands down to your thighs, lifting you off the ground to lay you down on your back. The vest had shifted, being useless in covering you up at this point, so you simply took it off. He sat on his heels as you wrapped your legs around his waist, not wanting his body to leave yours. You simply looked up at him as he looked over your body, his regularly soft expression having turned dark and intense. It made heat pool inbetween your legs. 

Reaching up, you undid the ties on his shirt and tugged it off of him. The action made him laugh before he leaned down and pressed his bare chest to yours. His hands moving your hair out of your face before kissing you again. This kiss was so much more intense, teeth clashing and hips rolling into yours. Not to mention the feeling of his bare skin on yours, you were infatuated with him. 

His pants didn’t do much for hiding how much he enjoyed you, bulge pressing directly into your bare core. You let out a gasp at the pressure, making him nip at your lips before trailing the kisses down your jaw. He wasn’t horribly experienced but he knew enough and well he seemed to be doing just fine. That gave him a confidence boost, not to mention every little sound coming out of your mouth, boosted his confidence even more. 

“Mingi-” You hummed, feeling his lips over your neck. The kisses were gentle, soft praises being whispered inbetween them. “So beautiful.” He said softly and groaned as you tugged harshly on his hair. Mingi looked you in the eyes and flashed a smile in your direction. “Where did you learn how to kiss like that?” You asked, your fingers tracing over his lips. “I had a life before this.” He chuckled before turning his face back to your skin. 

His hands moved to massage your breasts, thumbs swiping over your nipples before latching his lips over one. Sucking at your skin and sending a wave of pleasure through your body and making your arch your back. 

Mingi was absolutely straining in his pants now, your body was perfect to him as if you were made for him. Your soft skin, your precious lips and your gentle hands, you were everything he had always wanted. 

Your fingers threading through his hair got a bit harsher the more he flicked his tongue of your nipple, you already felt like you were on fire. He moved his lips down over your stomach before stopping at before your core. This was something he had never done, but something he had always wanted to do. 

Spreading your thighs a little further, he settled between your legs and wrapped his arms around them. “What are yo- Oh.” You moaned, feeling the light kiss on your core. It almost made you feel lightheaded and dizzy, as his tongue delved deeper. Licking up your juices, he couldn’t help but moan. Perhaps it was because of what you were, or maybe you truly were built for him, but you tasted sweet and addictive. He wanted more of you. 

You raised your hips, guiding your core over his tongue and moaning out. “Mingi please don’t stop.” You moaned out, needing to feel that sweet sweet release. it was the way you moaned out his name, repeatedly like you were saying a prayer, he wasn’t going to stop until you came. He pulled you closer to his face, harshly and showed you that he truly wasn’t planning on stopping. 

The coil in your stomach quickly burst, making your hips buck as you tried to pull away from him. The whines coming out of your mouth were music to his ears as he continued to lick over your core, lapping up every bit of your juices that he could and finally pulling away. 

You looked at him as he sat on his heels again, lower part of his face glistening with your juices and breathing heavily. “Did that also get taught to you from your life before this?” You asked, sitting up to undo his pants. His arms hung at his sides and he simply let you do it for him. “Actually, I’ve never done that before.” Mingi admitted, making your actions halt. It felt entirely too good for it to have been his first time. You raised an eyebrow at him before pushing him back, making him lay on the ground. 

“I feel like you’re lying to me.” You said, tugging his pants down and watching his cock spring up. “I don’t lie.” He said and you shook your head. You straddled him, your core right over his and you braced your hands on his chest. “All men lie.” You whispered, leaning down and placing a quick kiss on his lips. His hands moved to your ass and helped you sink down onto him. “I like to think I’m not like all men. Especially not what you’re used too” He groaned, finally being enveloped in you. You took a moment to let your body adjust to his, breathing through the stretch and feeling a warmth in your chest as his fingers laced with yours. It was a comforting action, to distract you from the discomfort however slight it was. Maybe Mingi wasn’t like all men. 

You raised his hands over his head, pinning them there with your own as you started raising your hips. Allowing yourself to bounce on him, you felt so incredibly full. Filling you up completely and making your legs shake slightly but you put that to the side. It felt too good to stop. 

Mingi was even more convinced than before that you were made for him with the way you squeezed him. You released his hands and placed yours back on his chest, needing more support as you continued to ride him. He was hitting that sweet spot inside of you with every little bit he raised his hips to meet your thrusts. 

“You feel so good.” Mingi moaned out, hands pulling your chest flush against his. he planted his feet on the ground, fucking up into you and taking over. He was chasing his own high, needing a harsher pace and leaving you stuttering. 

You watched his face, from his shut eyes to his clenched jaw. That alone was almost enough to make you orgasm again. You kissed his lips to hide your moans as you felt them getting louder, his crew still being only a small distance away. He kissed you in return as his own stomach filled with warmth. He was so close to release and just needed that little bit to send you both over the edge. Your hand found his hair once more, tugging it in response to a harsh thrust and that did it. His hips stuttered and deep groans left his lips as he planted himself deep inside of you. Orgasm coating your walls and sending you over the edge with him. 

You lay there ontop of him, feeling incredibly full as he stroked your hair. “You are different from most men.” You mumbled softly, feeling a wave guilt come through you. “Most men don’t care the way you do.” Your words shrunk in volume even more, guilt and shame taking over you. Maybe it was guilt over your past actions, the men you had dragged to the bottom of the ocean, maybe it was about what you were going to do. 

Mingi helped you get off of him, watching you lay down next to him. You rested your head on his chest and he stroked your hair. The few times he had been with someone this way, yes they had been special. But nothing quite like this, Mingi was overwhelmed with love. 

“Y/N?” His tone sounded questioning, almost as unsure as the first night he had met you. “I think I might be in love with you.” He confessed, the feeling in his chest no longer being contained. He really couldn’t help himself, the last few days had been filled with you. Not just physically, but you were in his heart. You were speechless at his words, the guilt now eating you alive. 

“Come with me.” You said, pushing yourself off of the ground. Mingi couldn’t care anymore, not if you were completely bare or if he was. No, he only knew he would follow you anywhere. 

“Where are we going?” He asked, as you lead him towards the lake. “I feel sticky, I want to go for a swim.” You told him, hardly being able to look him in the eyes anymore. “Join me.” You added on, holding his hand gently, you stood before the water together.

 “Hey.” Mingi said softly, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks and make you look at him. You hadn’t even realised it, but tears were falling over your cheeks. “What’s wrong?” He asked, those beautiful brown eyes boring holes into your own. You had never felt this guilty before. “Nothing’s wrong...” Your voice trailed off and looked to his lips once more. You started walking forward, making him walk backwards towards the water. 

He stepped in slowly, leaning forward to kiss you as he did so. “Mingi... I love you too.” You admitted, deciding that that was where the guilt stemmed from. Mingi felt his chest get warm once more, not being used to this at all but wondering how your life together could be from this point on. 

He kissed you, harshly and you sighed into it before diving forward. You both fell into the water, lips still locked and you gripped his wrist. You needed to get rid of your guilt and now was better than any other time. 

Mingi wasn’t entirely aware of how far down into the lake you had pulled him. Your hand wrapped around his wrist as your silver tail brought you both down towards the bottom quickly. 

It wasn’t until it was already too late that Mingi realised that this was his dream. Down at the bottom of a lake, the moonlight shining down through the surface as Mingi felt absolutely weightless. You let him go and swam around him, watching him blink under the water as he watched you.

He started feeling himself go lightheaded, dizzy as his lungs started to burn. He was starting to realise that his dream wasn’t a dream, it was a warning and it was now too late. Feeling his vision go dark, the last thing he saw was that silver glimmer of your tail in the moonlight and your beautiful face. 

Despite being the thing that killed him, he still thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

A/N: Again please let me know what you think! This is quite different from what I normally write. There will most definitely be typos but please,ignore those lmao

#a&mlibrary #mingi #mingi smut #ateez #ateez reaction #ateez smut

[popquizhot-shot]

Jealousy-Pin Hawthorne x reader

This is Part-1

Requested-Nope

Warnings- Jealousy? Insecurity, wanting to stab someone, sad reader, sad Pin, language, death of a horse (not graphic. part of backstory), this is a bit dramatic for a Free Rein fic. not proofread.

A/n- This is a self-indulgent fic and does not follow the timeline of the show, i’m pretty sure I don’t know what I’m doing.

Summary- Y/n is jealous of Zoe

Tag: @thatfangirl42​

Damn her, damn her for being so perfect. Damn her for getting everything you ever wanted.

Damn her for taking away Pin, your best friend.

Damn her for taking away Raven, the only thing that reminded you of Diana.

Damn Zoe Philips.

Flashback

It seemed as if the world stopped moving.

Your mare, Diana broke her leg.

She had to be put down.

“ Y/n, we have to.” Pin said, “ Diana is in too much pain, do this for her.”

You couldn’t, how could you? The black mare was the one thing that made you happy. She was the sweetest, most loving creature, even Raven liked her, and he hated everybody.

Pin knew how much you loved Diana, and how much she loved you. It broke his heart, because not only was he devastated over Diana, he knew how much she meant to you. You never had the best relationship with your parents, so you decided to come here, to live with your relatives. Diana was there for you, she made you laugh, she’d chew your hair, and she trusted you, more than anyone.

“ Pin, I can’t! She can’t die! She won’t! She’ll heal and we’ll all be fine.” you replied.

Sighing, he came over you and took your hand.

“ Y/n, Diana is in pain, if you love her, you have to let her go, I’m so sorry Y/n/n. Please do this for her. Relieve her from her pain.” 

Sobbing, you nodded and he pulled you into a hug.

“ Shhh, cry all you want sweetheart. Let it all out. Everything’s going to be alright.” he kissed your head.

~~

Pin helped you get over Diana’s death, bit by bit. He introduced you to a new horse Shadowfax. That was when you realized you loved him.

You thought he loved you too, after all, he was closest to you. Always defended you from Mia, you both always rode together, and he liked having you around.

How wrong you were.

Everything changed the day Zoe found Raven.

Raven, who liked you the most, went and bonded with Zoe. 

Pin seemed to hate her at first. But you saw the was he looked at her when he thought no one noticed. 

You thought you could physically hear your heart break.

So you distanced yourself. From Pin, from your relatives. From Becky and Jade. 

You only focused on riding. 

~~

“ Y/n’s acting strange lately. Have you noticed Becky?” Jade asked her best friend as they were hosing down Bob.

“ I’ve noticed Jade, we should talk to her.” Becky agreed

“ She’s been getting better and better at riding everyday. She’s going to make the under-18 team. I bet you.” Jade nodded towards you, who was practicing , “ and she’s not talking to Pin either. I found that so strange! They’re so close! and Pin really likes her!”

“ Let’s talk to her after she finished practicing.” Becky suggested.

“  Yes, let’s.”

~~

“ Well, that didn’t go well at all.” Becky grumbled.

“ Agreed.” Jade replied.

You gave short answers and when they prodded you, you snapped at themm clearly angry.

“ Pin’s the only one who’ll be able to talk to her.” Jade said.

“ What’s up guys?” Zoe came up to them.

“ Y/n.” they said in unison.

“ Oh. what happened?”

“ She’s not talking to any of us.” Becky explained.

“ Yeah, I found it weird. Pin keeps talking to me about her, he’s getting worried. She won’t talk to him.”

“ He needs to go talk to her!” Jade exclaimed, “ I can’t see my friend like this! She’s only focusing on riding, tiring herself out everyday and not talking to any f us!”

“ Pin needs to talk to her! I ship them so much! I can’t let that ship sail!” Becky groaned.

“ Becky! Jade! Calm down. I’ll talk to Pin and tell him to talk to Y/n.”

~~

God, you wanted to stab Zoe, like just lodge a knife in her stomach and watch the-

“Woah! Getting a little ahead of myself there!” you said to yourself. But what else was there to do.

You felt bad for snapping at Becky and Jade and wanted to go apologize to them. So you made your way to the stables and there you found Pin..and Zoe.

They seemed to be talking quite seriously and Zoe looked around before whispering something in his ear.

You couldn’t take it.

Head up, chin out and fighting back tears, you walked past them to Shadowfax’s stable to tack him up. 

“ Shit.” Pin whispered.

“ Go! Talk to her!” Zoe pushed him towards you.

Taking a deep breath, Pin made his way to you.

“ Hey Y/n/n.” he said, coming to pet Shadowfax.

“ Hi.” you reply.

“ Are you okay? You’ve been distant lately.” 

“ I’m fine, thank you for asking. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go practice.” you lead your horse out and quickly made your way to the training area. (i don’t what it’s called).

Pin followed you and took your hand, you pulled away and didn’t look at him, missing the hurt on his face.

“ Shouldn’t you be with Zoe?” you ask him, voice bitter.

“ Zoe? Is this what all this is about?”

“ Like I said Hawthorne, I have to go practice. Good day.” you walked away..

“ Dammit!’ Pin shouted after you left.

~~

After your practice and rubbing down Shadowfax, you made your way to the cafe. You were pushing yourself a bit too much, and walked home tired and on the verge of fainting everyday.

You went inside to find Becky at the register. Good, you still wanted to apologize to her.

“ Hey Becky!” you call out, making her eyebrows go up.

“..Hey Y/n.” she replies.

“ I just wanted to say, I’m really sorry for how I snapped earlier. I don’t know what’s gotten into me these days. I hope you can forgive me.” you apologize.

Becky smiles before reaching out and giving you a small hug from across the counter.

“ I forgive you, now lemme get you a cupcake.” 

~~

“  I just want to know, why are you not talking to us anymore? What have we done? What have I don-”

“ Pin! Stop talking to yourself in the mirror and come down! I need your help with dinner!”

“S-sorry coming dad!” Pin yells and runs down to the kitchen.”

-----

“Y/n, please just tell us!” Jade coaxes.

Clenching your jaw, you refuse to look at them. They started prodding you with questions again and you almost snapped at them.

“ Please, we just want to know what’s going on with our best friend.” Becky puts her hands on your shoulders,

“ Me?” you scoffed, “ isn’t Zoe your best friend.”

Becky glanced at Jade.

There, That’s the reason

“ Y/n, we like Zoe a lot, but she could never replace you. You’re our best friend too! and Zoe’s really nice, but she isn’t you, no one is . We love you!” Jade hugged you from behind.

Tears start forming in your eyes and you hastily blink them away.

“ I’m so sorry. I was such a bitch to both of you.” you hold their hands.

“ Hey, it’s ok, we forgive you.” they sandwich you in a hug.

~~

“ So, what’s the deal with Y/n? She isn’t coming over anymore?” Ted asked Pin,

“ I don’t know dad, she isn’t talking to me, she just glares at me and tells me to go play with Zoe instead of wasting my time.” Pin grumbles.

Ted starts chuckling, clearly understanding what’s going on.

“ Dad, why are you laughing?” Pin questions, unamused.

“ Oh son.” Ted gasps, “ you’re so oblivious.”

“ What do you mean?”

“ Pin, Y/n likes you, and she’s jealous. The same way you were jealous of how much time she spent with Marcus, she’s jealous of the how much time you spend with Zoe. Go now. Talk to her.”

“ What?” Pin asks, a little stunned.

“ Go Pin!” Ted shoves him out.

~~

“ I was jealous, I thought that you didn’t want to be around me anymore. I thought you preferred Zoe and I wouldn’t be surprised, she is lovely. But the truth is, I love you Pin, god I love you.”

“ You know, if you want to practice confessing your love, it’s best not to do it where someone else can hear it.” Marcus’s voice comes from behind you.

“ Oh shit.”

#freddy carter x reader #pin hawthorne x reader #Free Rein #marcus x reader #free rein fic #Echo actually writes

[archies-litterbox]

of poison, forest floors, and terrified wizards

Summary: Out all alone on what was meant to be a simple errand, collecting herbs for Merlin, Douxie is downed when some pickpocket throws a fistful of black powder in his face - a magic surpressant and poison to wizards, he comes to find out the hard way. Unable to move or use his magic, as attempts to do both cause nothing but agony, the moppet has no choice but to rely on the slim hope of someone finding him before the poison overtakes him.

A/N: This is my first toa fic! I’ve spent the past year mostly just doing fic for witcher, so this is a nice change of pace :) I had fun with this! I thought about what would happen if there was some sort of substance in TOA that acted as a poison/magic surpressant to wizards... and ofc it turned into douxie whump (but it’s moppet!douxie which is even more painful :( ). Enjoyyy!

[CW: Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Poisoning/Sickness, Temporary Paralysis, blood mention (but no bleeding)]

---

All Douxie had been sent out to do was collect some herbs for Merlin. It wasn’t even in the uncertain ground like the Wild Wood, but a patch of forest he’d been sent to fetch ingredients from countless times. It should have been a simple enough task for the moppet, which is why he hadn’t woken Archie from his afternoon nap - which he was taking on Douxie’s bed - to have his familiar accompany him. And truly, the task itself was simple; it didn’t take Douxie very long at all to go into the woods and find a patch of the plants Merlin told him to fetch - something about a potion ingredient, the apprentice vaguely recollected.

Indeed, he found it without any trouble, but when he felt a figure speed past his back and steal away the little pouch of herbs he’d collected before speeding off into the woods, that was when the trouble started.

The rational part of him (which said exactly what he’d reckoned Archie would be telling him right now) told him just to pick more, but it was overshadowed by how downright insulting this woodland pickpocket was! Before he’d been taken in by Merlin, conning and using slight-of-hand to his advantage was one of his only means of survival, so to not only be stolen from, but in a way so lacking in cunning? The audacity!

It was the principal of the matter that sent him running after the thief, darting this way and that until he was lost in the thick of the woods, focused only on tailing the pickpocket.

“Hey! Stop!” Douxie panted, “You’re stealing from a master wizard!”

That didn’t seem to entice the thief to stop.

“Well… his apprentice, anyway!” he added for reasons unsure to even himself. Maybe honesty would help?

Well, thanks to his trusty, gangly legs, he caught up to the thief and got close enough to grab their wrist, and he thought it would be smooth sailing after that.

Yeah! Alright! I’ll just get my herbs back and deal with this thief and -

The thief turned around and threw a handful of black powder in his face.

Fuzzbuckets.

Douxie squeezed his eyes shut as soon as he felt them sting, coughing into his elbow to hack up the charcoal tasting powder that flew into his mouth and nose. That little trick stopped him in his tracks, but he wasn’t deterred. Not mentally. He still wanted to try to catch up… 

...but his legs wouldn’t move.

No matter how badly he wanted - demanded his legs to obey him, they remained tense, frozen in that position of one in front of the other.

What?

One terrifying moment later, they did move. But not into the sprint he wanted to take - no, to do something worse: to buckle underneath him and send him falling onto his side against the forest floor. 

And he couldn’t get up.

No matter how much he willed his body to do it, he couldn’t get up.

It was like when he’d have nightmares and he’d realize he was having a nightmare; it took forcing his body to toss and turn and shift from side to side as much as he could to rouse him back to the realm of the fully conscious.

But he couldn’t even do that. He couldn’t rouse himself from this nightmare because he couldn’t push himself up.

Wait.

No.

He couldn’t move.

Nearing complete panic, he internally begged and pleaded to find some sort of mobility, but his limbs grew numb by the second, and wherever he still had feeling, it ached - utterly, reprehensibly ached. Not only that, but it was cold. So, so cold, despite the warm atmosphere of the summer afternoon that hung around him so tauntingly.

He’d never felt more scared in his life. Not even being threatened at swordpoint by Sir Galahad and his men, knowing that he’d be killed for something like a measly alley trick, was as terrifying as this - not even that made his blood run cold (literally, it felt like, as well as figuratively) like this did.

And he was sure that was clear to the thief he’d tried to catch. They stood over him, and he couldn’t see their face from where his head lay on the ground, cheek against the grass, but with his glassy, wide eyes flickering between straining to look at his poisoner - because that’s what this was, a poison -  and darting around wherever they could look without him moving his head - because he couldn’t even do that - as black strands of hair lay loose on his cheek because he couldn’t lift a hand to move them, he was sure looked every bit as terrified as he felt.

The thief laughed. Laughed.

“A master wizard’s apprentice, eh?” they spoke, their voice dripping with mock fascination that made Douxie wish that someone, anyone would come to help him, “And your great master never told you to pick your battles? He must not have, if you felt so inclined as to chase me all through the woods for a plant you could have just picked a little more of. It was right in front of you, after all.”

The realization which dawned on Douxie would have made his blood run cold if it didn’t feel like it already was. They’d pickpocketed him because they counted on him pursuing them, even to the point of ending up in the thick of the woods, far away from where Merlin or Archie expected him to be - far away from where they’d know to look for him.

Douxie finally tried to shout for help, but his throat was just as tense - as frozen as the rest of his muscles, and his jaw was too tight to open as much as he’d need to scream. All he could do was gasp and force shuddering breaths in and out of his lungs, which was still a trying ordeal - too trying for something like breathing to have been.

“Trying to scream? Really?” the poisoner-thief asked as if it was an absurd thing to do in the moppet’s position (which it wasn’t), “Next thing you know, you’ll try mustering a spell.”

Against his better judgement, for trying a spell couldn’t have been a good idea if his own assailant was suggesting it, he tried to force a little magic to his fingertips.

It burned. Oh, sweet heart of Avalon, it burned. His hand hadn’t even hurt this badly after he’d botched a lightning spell and scarred his wrist in the process.

Douxie wheezed at the sensation, and the thief laughed again.

“Oh, this is rich!” they exclaimed, “this has already paralyzed you hand and foot, and you thought some conjuring would help? What do you think this was made to diminish, Apprentice of Ambrosius?

Douxie couldn’t even think of a swear worthy of this (“fuzzbuckets” was too tame), his mind still flooded with fear and his hand still aching from his botched magic attempt. How had they already known he was Merlin’s apprentice? Sure, he’d mentioned being an apprentice to a master wizard, but he wasn’t that specific.

But he wasn’t worried about that as much as what this implied about his magic, and what this - whatever it had been - was doing to it.

“This,” His assailant bent down and held up their fingertips to his face, showing him the black powder on them. “Seeps away your magic. Or poisons it, or diminishes it, or eats away at it - I’m not a poet, and apt synonyms aren’t my strong suit.”

They stood back up all the way, and Douxie wanted to plead, but the words wouldn’t come out. They wouldn’t even form. This - he couldn’t lose his magic. Not on something as measly as an herb collection.

“All of this-”

They gestured to his paralyzed, twitching form.

“Is just a side effect. A byproduct of attacking your magic.”

Douxie tried curling his hand into a fist. Not only were his muscles so weak that he could only curl his fingers for a second in what looked more like a spasm than a conscious movement, but grabbing the wrong end of a knife would have hurt less.

The powder-tosser winced mock-sympathetically.

“Shame, really. I hoped the master wizard you served could be the one to deal with this.”

For a moment, in his agony, he wished he was. Douxie squandered the thought as quickly as it came up, hating himself for conceiving it. He couldn’t wish this on anyone, least of all the wizard who saved him, who plucked him off the streets.

But why couldn’t he save him now?

“Ah, well.” They reached down to Douxie’s face and put a strand of hair behind his ear.

Douxie wanted to cry.

“S’pose you’ll do. It’ll be a kick in the teeth for him anyway, when you don’t come back from your little errand after hours and hours, and by the time they send out a search party…”

The smugness and certainty in their tone made Douxie whimper, the first vocal noise he’d been able to make in all of this, after naught but wheezing and gasping. Where was he going to get dragged off to? The Wild Wood? Were they in league with trolls, hoping to get an edge on King Arthur? Or were they a bandit, hoping to take all his goods off of him (which weren’t much, unless they counted the black cat fur on his vest) and keep him in some rackety shack until a ransom note made its way to Merlin?

(Would he even pay it, considering Douxie’s incompetence?)

“Well, they’ll find you right here, I’m sure, but…”

Douxie could hear them mock-wince again, and their implication was worse than anything he’d assumed in the moments before. He couldn’t hear the rest of their sentence over his own panic that, combined with the poison, made his head swim.

He wasn’t going to be taken anywhere.

He was going to be left here, to - to - to - 

His panic pushed him to try his magic again on impulse alone, and it felt like both his hands were on fire. His throat, as tight as it was, finally let him groan through his teeth.

“An exercise in futility, little wizard.” his attacker taunted, “In fact…”

They took his bracelet - only three fingers wide at this point in his training - right off his wrist, which made him squeak as he tried, tried, tried to shake his head, and threw it into a bush in what was both further assurance of his powerlessness and an insult to injury.

“I would say you should try to get comfortable…” 

They stood up and took a few steps back, leaving the little field of vision Douxie had from where his head lay on the ground.

“...But I suppose that would be another exercise in futility.”

He heard the poisoner-thief run off, their footfalls fading as the pounding of his racing heart, which drummed against his ears in sync with their steps, drowned out the noise until they were out of earshot.

He was alone.

He couldn’t move, some poison was seeping away his magic - his very lifeforce - and tensed his body up so rigidly that he couldn’t even scream, and he was alone.

If he could’ve, he would have curled up into a ball as small as he could make himself in hopes that the dangers of the woods and the dire circumstances of his situation would pass him by.

If he could’ve, he would have screamed, even though he knew he was far away from the earshot of anyone who might have come looking for him by that patch of herbs where he said he’d go, and he knew that Archie, who could have tracked his scent here, was still sleeping because, in his arrogance, he hadn’t thought to wake him.

If he could’ve, he would have dragged himself to his gauntlet, wherever it had been thrown, because even if it wouldn’t have done anything to get him out of this, at least he wouldn’t have felt so helpless, even though helpless was exactly what he was.

But he couldn’t.

All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and feel his tears run down the bridge of his nose as his lips contorted into a grimace, the only two things he could do with his body where the movement itself didn’t outweigh how badly he wanted - needed to do it.

All he could hope for, against hope itself, was that he’d be found here.

Before all that could be found was his body.

---

He wished he could just sleep.

The grassy ground underneath him was soft enough, and his position on his side could have been comfortable enough. Maybe it would have helped pass the time until the poison ran its course, whatever that entailed.

But whatever this was, it didn’t even grant him that luxury. Whether it was an effect of the poison or a product of his own adrenaline and terror, Douxie was wide awake.

Not only that, but after what might have been an hour or two (judging by the sunlight’s reflection off the dewey grass), his body would periodically twitch because of the poison. Sometimes his leg would kick out like a dog, or his shoulder would seize up to the point where it touched his ear, or his hand would ball into a fist.

But his poisoned body didn’t care which of his movements were voluntary or otherwise - it stung all the same. Not like the horrific burning that came with his attempts at magic, but a grating, awful ache right down to his bones. The spontaneous twitches never let him even come close to unconsciousness, and maybe that was a good thing - every breath was more or less of a laborious gasp, a conscious effort of his, and if he’d lost consciousness and stopped forcing them in and out of his lungs… he didn’t want to imagine it.

He wished his panic would quiet enough for him to get bored laying here - he would have preferred it to this, and it would have made sense, considering that he was stuck staring at the same blades of grass and patch of trees that he’d been staring at for the past hour.

And they weren’t even particularly interesting trees or blades of grass, not that they would have distracted him very well if they were.

He wondered if anyone had started looking for him by now. Maybe Merlin was growing impatient without the ingredients he asked for, and maybe Morgana had started to wonder why “Little Douxie” hadn’t come back to the castle.

He wondered if Archie had woken up from his nap and noticed Douxie’s absence yet. If anyone could insist that someone go out and search for him, it would be his familiar. He didn’t want to delude himself by thinking it would help though.

He wondered the importance of those herbs he was collecting before. Were they really that important to whatever Merlin had been working on? Were they worth chasing that thief down? Were they worth all of this?

He was pulled from his thoughts when a shadow cast over the grass he’d been staring at - the shadow of a creature flying overhead and hovering above him.

If he could’ve curled into himself, just to look as small as possible, he would have. What if it was a vulture, waiting to scavenge him? What if it was a monster, or a winged troll, here to carry him off to some trollish nest in the Wild Wood? None of the thoughts that came to mind were soothing by any means. As the creature swooped down, all Douxie could do was squeeze his eyes shut and hope he wouldn’t be harmed any further.

Even when the figure landed in front of him and stepped closer and closer, he didn’t look at it. It wasn’t until he could feel it’s breath on his face, one of the only sensations of the past few hours that didn’t hurt, that he opened his eyes.

A face of black fur greeted him.

And yellow eyes.

And a round pair of glasses.

Archie!

He couldn’t even say the word, but a sob escaped his throat - a sob of relief? A sob of terror that this might have been the start of an onslaught of hallucinations, the first of which being a sign of rescue? He wasn’t sure. Either way, all he wanted to do was reach up and pet the cat-dragon familiar, or hug him and not let go, but he couldn’t. His arm felt like it weighed half a ton, just like the rest of his limbs.

So, he sobbed. It was all he could do.

“Douxie!” Archie cried.

Merlin’s apprentice could hear the worry in his voice as he stepped back a few paces, his ears back and his wings to his side. Of course, he’d shifted into his dragon form - he must have been able to track Douxie’s scent like that. But Douxie hated the thought of his familiar being in danger because he’d flown here. He was already suspicious enough as a black cat, since they carried the notion of being bad omens. What if he’d gotten taken down? He wasn’t worth that!

Douxie was too relieved - yes, he chose relief, not terror, because that’s all he could afford - to think about all of that though.

“Douxie, I’ve been looking for you! What’s happened to you?” Archie asked, “Merlin expected you back hours ago!”

The first thing that came to mind, despite everything, was an apology for his absence - an apology he couldn’t even say. He couldn’t even say what happened to him, not like -

A spasm cut off from his speeding, scrambled thoughts - a large one in his left arm (his right was still mostly underneath him) that reached all the way from his fingertips to his shoulderblade, forcing his hand to ball into a fist, his arm to fold so tightly that his fist touched his shoulder, and his shoulder to tighten so much that his shoulder pressed to his ear.

The sound of agony ripped from his throat was the closest to a scream he’d gotten yet.

Archie looked horrified, and Douxie could only imagine what the sight of him was like - black strands loose from his bun strewn over his face, his eyes puffy and tear-ringed, his lips contorted in a pained grimace. He imagined he looked as pitiful and helpless as he felt.

(In fact, he didn’t have to imagine it. He could faintly see his reflection in the lenses of Archie’s glasses, and he was right in what he pictured, save for the addition of smudges and speckles of that powder still on his face, the black splotches of dust contrasting his color-drained skin, pale as death.)

His arm relaxed again after a few agonizing moments, letting his hand fall in front of his face and leaving a throbbing ache down to his bones, and Douxie tried to collect himself. He had to tell Archie what was wrong. He had to try. If Archie knew, he could fix it. He could get Merlin to fix it. Right? Right.

“P-” he started, trying his absolute best to form words despite the constriction in his throat and lungs that barely let him breathe at all, “puh- poi-”

His own wheezing cough cut him off.

“Poison?” Archie asked, getting it right much to the little relief that Douxie could manage. He nodded - at least, as close to the motion as he could accomplish - and tried to hum a “mhm” of affirmation, since trying to talk hadn’t exactly worked. Far from it.

Archie stepped forward and sniffed his face. He immediately recoiled, his big eyes widening, and Douxie was proven wrong for thinking he couldn’t be more terrified.

“Oh, dear.” His eyes glanced to what must have been a few more clumps and speckles of dust on the ground, “Ohhh, not good. Not good at all.”

No. Archie couldn’t be scared. If Archie was scared for him, then this was so, so much worse than he thought. How could it possibly be worse?

Douxie squeaked out a whimper in fear, and Archie’s attention snapped back to him (as if it could have been anywhere else).

“Douxie, don’t worry.” he said, “You’ll be alright.”

Archie was never a good liar, much to Douxie’s dismay. If Archie was going to hide the truth to soothe him, he at least would’ve liked it to work. His immediately telling Douxie not to worry had the opposite effect of what was intended; it showed him his worry - his terror - was entirely warranted, which was the exact thing he didn’t want to know. Even if all he said was “You’ll be alright.”, the fear that seemed to bristle through his fur was indication enough of the contrary.

Archie’s eyebrows, indicated by the grey patches in the fur above his eyes, upturned as if in dread.

“...But I need to go.”

NO!

If Douxie could have screamed the word and reached out to hold Archie, he would have done it right at that moment, but all he could do was whine like a kicked puppy, his eyebrows raising as his head shook - an unconscious movement, minute despite his desperation.

“Douxie, Douxie, listen.” Archie said, softening his voice, “I can’t carry you back to the castle. I wouldn't be able to fly carrying you anyway, but especially not with your-”

Archie got cut off by another one of Douxie’s spasms - this one made his left leg curl up so tight that his thigh touched his torso, causing the apprentice to nearly involuntarily hit Archie with his knee, which the cat-dragon barely dodged.

“-that." Archie said, "Not with that.”

Douxie saw the sense in that, despite his panic. He did, he did, he did.

But - 

He sobbed again.

-But he didn’t want to be alone.

Sweet heart of Avalon, he didn’t want to be alone. 

The worst of his pain and terror wasn’t from the paralysis, or the aching, or the random twitches, or the burning that came from trying to use his magic, or even the tightness in his throat and lungs that robbed him of speaking or even screaming; it came from being alone in this - from wondering if anyone would come for him, or find his body; it came from knowing that there was nothing he could do but lay there, at the mercy of nature, the poison wracking his body with every beat of his heart, and the determination (or lack thereof) of someone else to find him.

And when he opened his eyes to find Archie there, all of that went away - all of that fear that told him he’d die alone here. He didn’t want it to come back. He would’ve rather the poison take him right now.

“I just need to go back to the castle and bring Merlin here. He’ll know what to do.”

Archie put his paw in Douxie’s limp, open palm. All Douxie wanted to do was hold it, and he so desperately hoped the next twitch would be in his hand so he could.

“I won’t be long. I promise.”

But what if it was too long, even if he hurried?

What if Merlin was too late, even if he hurried?

What if it took too long to convince his master to come here? Would the fact that he’d been poisoned and needed help be enough, or would Merlin refuse because it served Douxie right for his insolence?

(No, no, he wouldn’t do that. Merlin said that mastery over magic was mastery over life, and he had to learn how to live. He couldn’t learn to live if he died here in the woods.)

What if… 

What if this killed him before Archie came back?

...No.

It wasn’t the same this time. Douxie wasn’t lost here, hoping against hope that someone would find him. This was hope - someone knew where he was, and help would come. He could handle a little bit more fear for that hope, he knew.

So, fighting the grating, awful ache in his bones, Douxie closed his hand around Archie’s paw and put on as brave a face he found himself able to muster, nodding as much as he could while causing as little pain to himself as possible.

He didn’t trust much in this - not even his own body to keep fighting the poison - but he trusted Archie, and he trusted his promise.

His familiar gently pulled his paw away before slipping it under the side of Douxie’s head, lifting it a little off the ground. The little apprentice was confused for a moment, until Archie reached behind Douxie’s head with his mouth. He could hear the sounds of the woods stifle as fabric came over his ears, warding off the now-coolness of the woodsy air around his head as Archie pulled the hood of his vest over his head and gingerly laid it back down.

Ah, he got it now - it was a little comfort, a little shelter from the world.

And of course he took it, hoping his eyes conveyed his gratitude.

He kept up his brave front as Archie turned away from him, something Douxie could tell he’d done reluctantly, and flew off. It wasn’t until he couldn’t see his familiar anymore - until the sight of the cat-dragon vanished behind the treetops - that he let it fall and shatter.

He just had to keep waiting. That’s all he had to do - wait and trust Archie to come back with Merlin. He knew that.

But he could still feel new tears come down his face.

---

Douxie wished he could see the sunset from where he lay. It would have been beautiful, he knew.

The spasms subsided a little while after Archie flew back, leaving Douxie limp on the ground - still unable to move without hurting himself or try to use his magic without thrusting himself into agony - with a lingering pins-and-needles sensation in his hands and feet that felt like it was crawling up from his ankles and wrists.

(Honestly, Douxie still wasn’t sure if the spasms had truly subsided for good, or if this was just a rather long interval between them. He hoped it was the former. The spasms never hurt any less as they went on, and he was so, so tired of the pain.)

Archie still hadn’t come back with Merlin yet, obviously, and at this point, it seemed like Douxie was fighting off his doubt more than the poison. At least he knew what the poison was doing to him - he could feel it every waking moment. But Archie… Douxie didn’t know what had happened to him, and he wouldn’t unless he came back.

(No, until he came back. Douxie had to keep that certainty alive in his mind.)

But how was he supposed to know that his familiar hadn’t taken a tumble? That he hadn’t been brought down by some witch hunter’s net? What if Merlin was being stubborn about coming for him? What if he’d been busy in another row with King Arthur?

...Indeed, he would have loved to see the sunset - to at least try to let it distract him from the tornado of worst case scenarios in his mind.

But he couldn’t.

For a bit, he tried distracting himself by thinking about how Merlin might’ve reacted to him being in danger - to hearing that he’d been poisoned. He sort of liked imagining how scared he’d be, for he preferred fear to indifference. The mental image of his master dropping whatever book he’d been flipping through and rushing to follow Archie… it was a comforting one, as strange as it might sound. That fear meant he mattered.

But Douxie soon grew tired even of that. He hoped he might’ve ran into a patch frequented by fireflies. Those would at least come low enough to dip into his line of sight, and they were always so beautiful, like stars visiting earth for a night before going back to the sky…

Douxie grew cold again at some point. Not just cold, but damp. Since it hadn’t started raining, fortunately, he rightly assumed that it was sweat. Perhaps he was finally sweating this out, like a fever, but that was too good, too fortunate to figure. This was another progression of the poison, he was sure. Just like…

Douxie noticed something in his left hand that lay in front of his face, something wrong…

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon.

His veins were black. 

Hoping, begging, praying to be wrong, he pushed through that dreadful ache in his arm so he could pull it closer, but it only confirmed his suspicions - his dread - his terrors.

The veins in his wrist, in the creases of his knuckles - they weren’t deep blue anymore, just barely visible underneath his skin, but as black as that powder that got blown in his face. Ink could be coursing through them right now, and he’d have been none the wiser.

In that moment, Douxie was proven wrong once again for thinking he couldn’t be more terrified.

He gasped as much as his throat and lungs let him, and he didn’t stop gasping. But then his chest -

No no NO!

-his chest started to seize up.

He fought the growing tightness in his chest with every breath, forcing each one in and out like a wheeze, but it wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t tell if it was from poison or panic, but it wouldn’t go away. He’d even started coughing, which was inevitable, but the black splotch that splattered into his hand terrified him all the more.

This was it. He was going to die here. He was going to succumb to this. He’d never come back to the castle - to Archie, to Morgana, to Merlin - from a trivial herb picking. Archie would come back here, but all he’d find was - was - was -

“HISIRDOUX!”

Douxie burst into tears.

He could recognize the voice of his master - his father - anywhere, but he was so, so scared that it was a hallucination. The fear in his voice already sounded so foreign, coming from the great and powerful Merlin Ambrosius, and if the sound of his voice and his footsteps coming near him came only from his desperate imagination, then he’d - he’d -

A hand gripped his shoulder and turned him onto his back. Finally, he could look up at the sky, aglow with sunset, but his glassy eyes only saw Merlin kneeling down at his side, and Archie flying above him.

The terror in Merlin’s eyes was the exact opposite of comforting, but Douxie didn’t get to see it for long before Merlin conjured a damp cloth and wiped off his face what had to have been the rest of that poisonous powder. He hadn’t realized how flushed he’d been until that moment, when that rag felt so cold against his cheeks.

Merlin finished wiping off Douxie’s face and made the cloth disappear. Douxie missed the coolness on his face. He wanted it back.

“Hisirdoux, say something!” he demanded. But Douxie couldn’t - didn’t Merlin think he would’ve already been screaming his lungs out if he could?

“D-” he choked, “Da-”

He hacked up another throatful of black phlegm, whimpering as the violence of his cough made his torso curl up. Merlin dodged the cough, but put an arm under Douxie’s back before he could fall back.

An apology lay at the back of his throat - one he didn’t know the reason for, even if he could’ve said it.

Merlin brought his other arm behind Douxie’s knees and lifted him like he weighed nothing (and he probably didn’t weigh much to Merlin, being the gangly moppet he was). The edges of the plating of the master wizard’s armor dug against him uncomfortably, but it was the least discomforting thing about this, overshadowed near-completely by the comfort that came just by being held. But he was still scared - if more of that powder was on him, and Merlin touched it by holding him, then -

He stifled a cough, and his leg kicked out unconsciously like a thumping rabbit’s foot. He didn’t realize how badly he’d been tremoring until it was contrasted with the steadiness of Merlin holding him.

Yes… steadiness, safety - two things he’d wanted to cling to more than anything since all this had started. And now, he had them. He had his familiar, and he had his father.

His head, still covered with the hood of his vest, lolled back uncomfortably without any support, but he felt something soft push against the back of it- it was actually Archie, though Douxie couldn’t see it - until the side of his head lay against one of the shoulderpieces of Merlin’s armor, cushioned by the cloth of his hood.

He sighed as much as his tightened chest would allow.

He was so scared.

Douxie was still so, so terrified that Merlin couldn’t save him after all; that he’d die tonight; that he’d never use his magic again; that he’d never get to become a master wizard or get his own staff to wield; that he’d never again get to go back down to the marketplace and talk to that pretty girl who frequented the shops.

(What was her name? Zelda? Zona? Zola? Zo-)

He felt something warm settle on his abdomen - Archie had turned back into a cat and curled up on his tummy, purring as he nestled where Douxie’s legs curled.

At least, despite everything else he feared, he didn’t have to be terrified of being alone anymore.

---

Douxie wasn’t sure if Merlin used a portal, or the relief of being found by his master had finally let him lull out of consciousness for the length of the time it took to be carried back, but the next thing he knew, he was in Merlin’s study. Despite the fluttering of his eyelids, he could recognize the shelves, the desk, and the stained glass window letting in the last light of day.

Home.

He was home.

No matter what happened next, he was home.

“Douxie!” He could hear Morgana’s voice shouting his name in worry, followed immediately by her fast-approaching footsteps.

“Mmh…” Douxie whimpered. It wasn’t clear whether or not the noise was just a pained whine or an attempt to try saying her name - not even to Douxie himself. He couldn’t see her very well, but he could tell when she’d come to them, stepping to the side as Merlin walked forward to his desk.

“Is he alive?” she asked.

“Somehow, yes.” Merlin answered. Douxie hated that “somehow” and the fear it brought, but it was just a little more to add to the onslaught of the past hours. He could just add it to the pile, he supposed.

In the middle of the room, Merlin’s big desk was empty, so the wizard laid him down on the surface, having him lay flat on his back with his hands at his sides, his legs straightened out, and his head facing up. Now, he could fully see Morgana, the sorceress he’d come to see as something of a big sister just as he came to see Merlin as a father, looking down at him. Her face was upside-down from where she stood over him, but he could still see her upturned brows and glistening eyes, and the way she clasped her hands close to her chest so they didn’t even touch him. He hated that look of worry on her face. Seeing Morgana - always fearless, always grasping for more from the world than what others had permitted, always steadfast in her ruthless ambition - look so scared for him… 

...It was worse, if such a thing was possible, than when he saw how scared Merlin was for him, and there was so much he wanted to say, but he was still just focused on trying to breathe as deeply as he could.

Archie got off his abdomen and sat next to his head, gently headbutting his temple before putting a paw on his forehead. It was a little comforting, almost enough to distract Douxie from realizing that Merlin wasn’t at his side anymore.

Almost, though. Not enough.

Douxie tried turning his head to the side, but Archie gently kept it still with his paw.

“He’s just finding a spellbook, Douxie.” he assured, immediately knowing what the apprentice was trying to turn his head for, “He’ll be right back.”

Morgana looked down on the little scene and closed her eyes for a moment, as if to quell her tears, before opening them again.

“You shouldn’t have held him.” she warned, turning her head to wherever Merlin stood now, “You know what that can-”

“I’m well aware.” Merlin interrupted from wherever he still was, “And you know I’ve little concern for that.”

Douxie didn’t understand. There was still so little he understood about whatever was doing this to him, and he didn’t know how to ask about it - he couldn’t.

But apparently, his upturned brows and whimpers of confusion were enough to indicate - at least to Archie - how lost he was.

“Douxie, that powder - it’s called Draining Dust.” Archie explained, “It’s a magic suppressant, and… a poison, as you know by now.”

“Witch hunters would put this in shackles.” Morgana said, finally speaking to him, “To nullify wizards’ and witches’ magic on their way to the gallows. Or the stakes.”

“Trace amounts, yes.” Merlin came back into his view, an open spellbook floating near him with a signature green aura around it, “Pinches of it, cast in the metal. It would suppress the wearer’s magic as long as it was on their body, with a few side effects. Fatigue, headaches, nausea…” he started listing as he flipped through the pages.

Douxie remembered the handful of the stuff that had been thrown in his face. That was far from a few pinches. And those side effects he’d started listing - they sounded tame, menial compared to what was happening to him now.

“But direct contact with raw powder…” Archie started. Douxie knew he was hesitant to finish that sentence, and it wasn’t hard to assume why (but it was terrifying).

“It’s deadly.” Morgana said, “Few wizards have ever survived inhaling or digesting it. More sadistic witchfinders have used that to-”

“Morgana!” Merlin snapped, urging her to leave off. But she didn’t.

“He should know!” she snapped back, “It’s already in his bloodstream, old man. It’s killing him, and he deserves to-”

Douxie started crying again at Morgana’s brutal honesty, as if this all weren’t brutal enough. His eyes squeezed shut as tears streamed down his temples, but when he opened them again, it was darker, like he was looking through a veil. The sight made him want to cry even harder.

It was in his tears.

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon, the poison was in his tears.

It made sense now, why Morgana was so scared to touch him. His own body fluids - his blood, his tears, probably his sweat soon enough - were turning poisonous from this. The only reason Archie was still touching him was probably because he wasn’t a wizard, but a familiar, and this wouldn’t affect him so badly.

(It actually very well could have affected Archie for the worse, but watching Douxie endure this without any comfort would have been worse than any poison.)

“It’s not killing him.” Merlin denied as if he was trying to convince both Morgana and himself, “His death is not certain. If it were, I would have already placed a sleeping spell on him by now.”

Douxie clung to that little hope and tried to watch Merlin scan for the spell he’d been looking for. Merlin had a way to fix this, of course he did; it’s as he said - he would have already put Douxie to sleep to grant him some peace if he didn’t.

Douxie watched his master’s page flipping stall as his eyes scanned over one particular page. His face fell - a minute, near-unnoticeable change in expression, but one that made Douxie’s pounding heart sink.

“Merlin?” Archie asked, “Have you found something?”

Merlin said nothing at first, only taking his place by stepping right to the table’s edge, coming right to Douxie’s side.

“I’ve found a spell to expel the poison and it’s remnants,” he explained, still only scanning the book, “But purging it from his body when it’s progressed this far will be…”

His eyes fell on Douxie’s.

“...quite excruciating.”

But Douxie was already so, so tired.

Not physically - the combined force of the poison and his own adrenaline warded off any chance of fatigue - but in his heart. He was so tired of being scared. Of being in so much pain. He didn’t want to do it - he didn’t think he could…

...But he remembered something Merlin said to him before.

“If there is a universal truth in this world, it is that struggle is the flame which forges one’s soul into steel.”

Well, if there was something tougher than steel, that’s what his soul would become.

Because wizards were strong. Brave. Unrelenting to pain or fear. That’s how Merlin was, that’s how Morgana was, and that’s how he would be.

He put on a brave face - as brave as he could possibly muster in the face of what he’d endure - and nodded. He could do this. He had to do this.

And he would.

The green aura around the spellbook faded as Merlin set it down. Archie lifted his paw from Douxie’s head and stepped back a few paces.

“Morgana, keep him still.” Merlin said, “His thrashing may cause him to injure himself.”

Morgana nodded and brought her hands up, an unsaid apology in her eyes. Seconds later, Douxie felt warm, gentle heat around his wrists and ankles. It didn’t hurt, but it was unrelenting. He didn’t test the bonds, lacking the strength or any actual will to do so. Still under a sort of paralysis, he wasn’t scared of being pinned down, for he knew it was just a precaution; he was just scared of how bad the pain would be in order for restraining him like this to be necessary.

The precaution was far from unwarranted, he came to realize in the coming moments.

Merlin hovered one hand over Douxie’s chest and the other over his abdomen. Douxie watched him say some incantation, but he didn’t catch the words. He was too busy bracing himself for the pain as he saw the green aura of his master’s magic out of the corner of his eye, glowing above his torso.

Before Merlin even got to take a breath after the incantation, the pain started.

And no amount of bracing could have prepared Douxie enough.

The sudden agony in his torso ripped the breath from his lungs. He thought - hoped it would start small and get worse and worse, like a simmer that got hotter and hotter, but instead it was like a pot of scalding water got poured over his chest. No, even that would have hurt less. This… it started at the surface, but it bled deeper and deeper under his skin, and then -

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon.

-then it started to spread.

In moments, as if searing agony itself coursed through his veins, there was nowhere on his body that didn’t burn, not even his fingertips or the tip of his pinky toes. If he could feel it, it hurt, and it hurt unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

As the agony overrode his paralysis, he thrashed against Morgana’s magic that kept his wrists and ankles in place, arching his back one moment and curling forward the next.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to try to open his eyes. It hurt to keep them squeezed shut. It hurt to try to hear the voices of those around him - Morgana trying to tell him to be strong, Archie trying to soothe him, Merlin repeating the incantation. It hurt even to think - the pain, blinding and deafening, flooded out all other thoughts.

For a moment, like a fire burning so hot it feels cold for a fleeting beat, he stopped feeling the searing, searing agony.

But the moment was too, too fleeting before it wracked him again.

Finally, finally, he screamed.

It was a raw, shrill, agonized thing. He felt it come up from the base of his throat, and when Douxie realized, through his hysteria, that he was actually screaming, not wheezing or whimpering or anything he’d had to settle for tonight, he couldn’t stop. He screamed for all the torture of the day, all the fear of being alone, all the panic and terror and despair that he couldn’t let out in the woods, tense and spasming and paralyzed. 

All the screams that couldn’t come out before, when his throat was so tight that it barely let him breathe, came out right now, bursting at the seams of his pain-delirious mind.

He didn’t stop screaming until he finally felt Merlin’s magic let off.

Even then, his screams settled only into groans and wails until the burning across his body finally cooled; until the pain weakened from a searing sensation all over him, like the most brazen of fires, to a low ache, like the embers of a dying camp flame.

Once he fully stilled, which took a few more moments, Morgana’s magic came off his wrists and ankles.

Finally, he came back to his senses and see Merlin, Morgana, and Archie still around him. Archie looked relieved and nuzzled the side of Douxie’s head. Morgana smiled a shaky, hesitant smile - still so foreign to see from her.

And Merlin…

Well, he seemed as difficult to read as usual, but at least he no longer had the expression on his face of a man watching his apprentice die. Traces of relief lay there, and Douxie gladly took them.

So… was it over?

Douxie groaned and lifted his arm. It didn’t hurt to do anymore - well, it did, but more like a soreness left in the wake of heavy lifting, a residue of what happened than a symptom of it. He brought it up to his face so he could see his wrist.

His veins were blue again.

Sighing, he let his hand fall on his face and wiped away some tears - lifting it to see they were purely clear, like before - before letting it slide off his cheek and fall limp next to his head.

“Master…” his voice was so little, so hoarse, “‘s it gone?”

“Every bit, Hisirdoux.” Merlin said, putting his hand on Douxie’s shoulder, “It's over.”

He sounded weary. Douxie hoped that spell didn't take too much from him.

“Mm… my magic… 's it gone too?”

Merlin’s eyes said he wasn’t sure himself.

Douxie sought to answer the question on his own and willed forth his magic. He felt his fingertips thrum with the life of his sorcery. Lifting his hand again, he saw little specks of light, blue and true. It didn’t burn anymore, but it felt warm and gentle, like a heartbeat. His heartbeat. Exactly as it always felt.

He sighed. Not shaky, not fighting to keep his breathing level - a tired, relieved sigh. Despite how sore even the muscles in his face felt, he smiled a little smile.

“Thank you…” he said, “If you all hadn’t… I’d be-”

Merlin moved his hand from Douxie’s shoulder to his forehead.

“Don’t pay that scenario any mind, Hisirdoux.” Merlin urged, “You’ve survived, and although you and your magic have been weakened, both will fully recover.”

Douxie’s little smile fell.

“Wha… what about the poison? It couldn’t just be gone.”

“That it can.” Merlin assured, taking his hand off Douxie’s head, “As brutal as it is to the wizard affected, an unaffected wizard with strong magic can eradicate it from their body and return it to it’s untarnished condition.”

...Well, that was that, and Douxie wouldn’t question it. Besides, he remembered something.

“Mmmy bracelet… I lost it. That - they took it off. It’s in a bush out there.”

“I can see that. That’s alright.” Merlin said, “It can be retrieved.”

“And… and I'm sorry.” He said to Merlin’s subtle but obvious surprise, indicated by a little raise in his eyebrows.

“What for?”

“I… the herbs.” he answered, “I couldn’t bring them back. They got stolen.”

“It’s alright,” Merlin said, “They aren’t a rarity, you know.”

...Douxie sniffled.

“That… they only snatched those plants so I’d follow them deeper into the woods. So I’d get lost. So they could throw that dust in my face and - and leave me there, knowing I’d gone further into the forest than… than anyone would’ve looked, and I wouldn’t be found.” 

“But you were found, Douxie.” Archie said, “They weren’t counting on you having a dragon that could track scents for a familiar.”

Douxie’s voice started to break.

“I should have left it alone - I knew I should have left it alone. There was more right there, I should’ve-”

“Hisirdoux, cease this.” Merlin said in a tone that left no room for insistence, “You must grant yourself some relief in you and your magic’s survival. I won’t have you fret over something as menial as a handful of herbs, so-”

“But Master-”

“-Don’t “But Master” me.”

Douxie sighed. That statement didn’t leave any room for argument. It never did.

Finally, a little normalcy tonight.

Morgana put her hands to the sides of Douxie’s head. After she’d been so scared to touch him this whole time, the feeling of her fingers against his temples, brushing his hair away from his face, was a final, true assurance that the poison had been well and truly purged.

“Sleep, Little Douxie.” she soothed, “I promise you’ll wake.”

He couldn’t tell if she cast a sleep spell in that moment, or if this was from his own fatigue, but he obeyed without hesitance as he was finally lulled away from the realm of the conscious and fell into slumber.

---

Merlin looked down at the boy lying asleep on his desk, the color slowly trickling back into his face as his chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths. 

“He’s a brave little moppet.” Morgana said as she kept her fingers against the sides of his head, her voice hushed despite the fact that the boy’s exhaustion had lulled him into a deep slumber, and he’d sleep like a stone until morning no matter what.

“...No, he’s not.” Merlin denied, “Not for this.”

Morgana snapped her head up.

“He’s just gone through more torment from that powder in one day than either of us have in all our lives!” Morgana she contested, “Not even you have endured effects that brutal from Draining Dust.”

“To be brave requires a choice - being faced with the ultimatum to either run and give up, or face your fight.” Merlin said, too proverbial and righteous-sounding as he stood over Douxie, “A choice was the exact thing he didn’t have in this. Perhaps if he’d been withholding something from that assailant, even with the threat of this, then it might be different. But as it is, even if he’d wanted to succumb to this before Archie had found him, his adrenaline hadn’t let him.”

“Maybe so,” Archie started, “but when I found him there in the forest, and I told him I’d have to come back with help, he was terrified of being left alone again. I could tell. But he put on as brave a face he could have. He chose that for himself, at least.”

“He did the same thing moments ago, when you told him how much that spell would hurt.” Morgana added, “He may not have had a choice in enduring this, but he did choose to steel his nerves when faced with every reason not to, and there’s bravery in that, old man.” She crossed her arms. “Even you have to admit that.”

Merlin almost found it endearing, seeing them both try to defend his apprentice’s honor when they felt it threatened, and maybe he could’ve seen the bravery they saw, if he’d been looking at anyone else.

But as he looked down at Hisirdoux… that’s all he saw. Hisirdoux. His apprentice. His son. His gangly little moppet who tended to cause more messes than he cleaned up, but smiled like the embodiment of joy itself.

If daylight decided to make itself corporeal and walk among humans for a while, Merlin wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if it took the form of Hisirdoux Casperan.

So, the sorcerer didn’t see bravery when he found Hisirdoux writhing and gasping on the ground in those woods, he didn’t feel bravery when the boy trembled in his arms, and he most certainly didn’t hear bravery when the boy wailed and screamed his lungs out as that poison was taken out of him, black tears streaming down his face until they became clear again.

No, if Douxie had been brave, pride in that laid nowhere in Merlin’s mind. 

After all, when fear for his son’s life flooded his mind, and hatred for whoever did this to him flooded out that fear, where, pray tell, could pride reside?

Morgana kept looking down at Douxie as he slept.

“How could you risk that?” she asked Merlin.

“Risk what, Morgana?” he asked, “Be specific.”

She snapped her head back up.

“You know what I’m talking about!” Morgana almost shouted, stifling her volume so the sleeping moppet wouldn’t hear, ““Eradicate” my foot, old man. I know the spell you used. You didn’t use a spell of eradication, you used a spell of transference!”

Arhcie had been staring down at his own sleeping familiar, but he snapped up when he heard that word, “transference”. First he looked to Morgana, then to Merlin.

“You told him it got destroyed, but you just - all you did was soak it up like a sponge!”

“Merlin… is that true?” Archie asked, obviously afraid that after all of this, Douxie would wake up without his mentor - his father - because he’d taken the poison for him. The little apprentice left without a master would never stop blaming himself, no matter how hard Morgana and Archie tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

Merlin sighed, an affirmation without words or nods.

“I spent the years since it’s conception,” he started, “building an immunity to the dust and its properties. It was too big a risk, potentially having a weakness to something so daunting - something I’d seen subdue and poison countless wizards. Too high a risk - a threat to the greater good.”

“So… the poison’s not having any affect on you?” Archie asked, stepping around Douxie to approach Merlin, “It’s not… he couldn’t have gone through all of this just to lose you.”

“And he won’t.” Merlin assured in confidence, “Much more than a handful of that powder would have had to be thrown at him to have any severe affect on me. No, this won’t need more than a night of rest to fix. Besides, what’s the good in spending all that time building up an immunity to Draining Dust if not to make use of it? A waste of time and tolerance built.”

“You couldn’t have known it wouldn’t...” Morgana said, “You couldn’t have possibly known you’d survive taking all of it like that!”

“I didn’t.” Merlin snapped.

Morgana’s eyes widened, as if everything about what the boy meant to him fell into place.

Because he hadn’t worried about his survival - the matter didn’t even cross his mind, not when he could still hear Douxie whimpering in pain with each page of that spellbook he skimmed. No, he only concerned himself with the likelihood that it would save the boy, his only worry being about how badly it would hurt Douxie when he’d already had to go through so much senseless, ludicrous torture.

Merlin always prioritized the “greater good”, some vast, staggering, intangible concept that encapsulated so much - the lives of thousands, the wellbeing of millions, the good of humanity.

But when he found his son writhing, hurting, suffocating, dying, he found he couldn’t spare any more regard to the “greater good” in that moment than he would a layer of dust on one of his books. If saving Hisirdoux’s life meant casting aside the greater good, then there was no question about it - he’d let the greater good rot.

It didn’t matter to him if his magic would’ve been permanently diminished by extracting the poison, or even if it killed him. Cast the greater good aside - the greatest good was the life in Hisirdoux’s eyes, and by all the heavens, he’d protect it.

And thankfully, he did just that tonight, at the cost of neither his life, his health, or his own magic. And that was the greatest good he could have asked for.

With another sigh, relieved that Morgana chose not to pry, Merlin looked down at the boy, still sound asleep, laid out on his desk. He put one arm under Douxie’s back and the other behind his knees, picking him up just like he did when he found him in those woods.

But this time, instead of trembling in his hold, Douxie made a little noise and unconsciously put his arm over Merlin’s shoulder, snuggling closer, if it were possible, to the master wizard.

Yes. he thought. There’s no greater good than this.

Morgana put her hands over her mouth and looked at the two of them as if the sight was something adorable, and Merlin huffed. Archie took his same spot curled up on Douxie’s abdomen.

“I’m taking him to his room.” he said, hushing his voice even though he knew the moppet wouldn’t wake, “And I’ll let him sleep in tomorrow morning. He needs to rest.”

The sun had set sometime during the painstaking ordeal, but torchlight along the walls of the castle made it easy to take his sleeping apprentice back to his room even once night has fallen. After using a simple spell to swing the door open while his arms were in use carrying the boy, Merlin walked in and used another little spell. The green aura of his magic glowed around the blanket on Douxie’s bed as he folded part of it over using his magic, providing room to lay Douxie down on his bed with head nestled right in his pillow’s usual dent. Once Archie stepped out of the way, Merlin reached over and laid the blanket back over him.

Douxie stirred a little, but only to turn from his back onto his side, his back to the wall and his front facing Merlin. Once the boy settled again, Merlin tentatively reached behind his head and let his bun loose so it wouldn’t get tangled if he moved around too much in his sleep. He doubted it would, considering the exhaustion and soreness in his muscles would probably enticement enough to stay still, even unconscious, but the gesture couldn’t hurt.

Archie crawled right underneath one of Douxie’s arms and nestled against his chest, and the moppet unconsciously held the bespectacled cat a little tighter.

And that was Merlin’s unspoken cue to leave Hisirdoux to rest for the night, so that’s what he did. He needed rest too, after all - his built-up immunity may have saved his life, but the poison, like everything else in the onslaught of the evening, left him weary.

Tomorrow, a search would begin.

Tomorrow, Merlin would find out who was behind this.

Tomorrow, the greatest and most powerful wizard in Camelot would not relent until he found the monster, human or trollish, who almost killed his son.

But tonight, Hisirdoux lay curled up in his bed, sound asleep as he kept his familiar close. Tonight, his life was saved.

And tonight, that was enough.

#tales of arcadia #toa #mine #toa fanfic #whump #hurt/comfort #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #moppet!douxie #archie toa #toa merlin #toa morgana #toa wizards #fic: of poison forest floors and terrified wizards #draining dust

[lovetorn]

all for the game [dream]

Exy player!Dream x Reader

summary: dream runs into trouble when the florida falcons play the edgar allan ravens.

w/c: 3.4k+ :D

warnings: violence, blood, swearing, ha typical exy shit

a/n: an au based on my favourite book trilogy, all for the game. idea by 🍀 anon <3 i wrote this for my own enjoyment AHHAHAAH. if u don’t understand the rules etc of exy, it’s basically hockey, soccer and lacrosse meshed together, but if u have any questions, send me an ask!

—

Exy is a bastard sport, an evolved sort of lacrosse with the violence of ice hockey. Dream loves every aspect of it. It is vastly different from the usual college football, and it certainly gives you more bruises. Maybe a little too many more bruises. Played in a stadium, on a soccer-sized basketball court with plexiglass to protect the crowd, it brings Dream immense joy.

Scooping the ball into the net of his racket, Dream looks at the wall before he uses his body to launch the ball towards it. The ball is quick to bounce back and plop into Dream’s net. He adjusts his grip on the stick and tilts his head, deciding where his next shot should be.

“Dream?” The dirty blonde turns around and sees you push through the plexiglass door that leads onto the court. “Hey!”

Dream smiles from under his helmet. “Hi, Y/n!” You don't play Exy, choosing to watch your best friend from the sidelines instead. He grips the grate of his helmet and slides his head out of it, his hair sticking up in every direction. “What are you doing here?”

You throw your arms up. “Coming to see you practice the great sport that is Exy,” You laugh before spinning around and looking up at the highest seats of the stadium. “Haven’t broken a bone yet, I assume?” This made Dream laugh.

“No, not yet. Saving that for the game against the Ravens.”

Dream’s determination for Exy scared you a little bit—it was almost like he wanted to get hurt. “Easy, tiger. We all know what happened last time we played them. Never again, please,” You shake your head, walking closer to him. The last time the Florida Falcons played the West Virginia Edgar Allan Ravens, Dream got a concussion so bad he couldn’t walk for a few days. You had sworn they would pay for their damage, but Dream went against you.

Dream rolls his eyes, lightheartedly. “That’s the way the game goes, Y/n. No way you can stop it,” he said that back then, too. You throw him a glare before taking the racket out of his hand to gain his full attention.

“Just, please be careful.” You practically beg. Dream’s eyebrows raise slightly, surprised. He didn’t see that coming.

“Yeah, always,” He follows your eyes as they trace the scar that runs from his temple to the middle of his forehead. You sigh and pass his racket back to him.

—

The dark purple Edgar Allan Ravens bus pulls into the Falcon’s home stadium car park that Friday night. Fans from all over the state and West Virginia crowd the entrances and surprisingly, there are a lot more supporters in purple and black than green and white.

Dream looks down at his forest green Exy uniform and smooths out his jersey. He rolls his neck in a circle to release the building tension. A hand clamps down on his shoulder as Dream slips his hands into his green and white gloves.

“You’re gonna be fine, dude. We all are,” Sapnap says, although Dream can hear the waver in his voice. Dream shakes his head and Sapnap inhales sharply.

“Nah, we won’t be.”

Sapnap slides his hand off of Dream’s shoulder and turns around, probably going to the bathroom to calm his crippling trepidation. The locker room is silent as the team moves around, changing and preparing themselves for the game ahead. Dream tries not to think about the team on the other side of the stadium, who are most likely already warming up despite the game starting in an hour.

Dream opens his locker and fumbles around for his phone. He needs to know that you’re here. Opening his messages, he’s frozen from the notifications coming through.

I hope your little friend prayed for you last night.

You got lucky with that concussion. Take this as a warning.

Dream’s fingertips trail up to hover above the scar on his forehead. He clenches his fist and throws his phone back into the locker, not flinching when the dark green metal dents. Dream leans his head against his forearm that rests on the locker.

“Dream! Dude, calm down,” A voice calls from across the room. Footsteps come up behind him and Dream has to stop the tears collecting on his waterline. “It’ll be fine, Coach said he might put you on for one half.”

George’s comments do nothing to soothe Dream’s anxiety. Dream has told nobody about the threats he’s been getting for a few days leading up to this game. If he told you, he wouldn’t even be here. You.

Dream ducks down to find his phone. George furrows his eyebrows as he watches. “Wha—?”

Grasping his phone, Dream then stalks out of the locker room. He walks down the hallway towards the inner court, presses your phone number on his now-smashed phone, and brings it to his ear. Pick up, pick up. “Dream?”

The sound of your voice makes Dream exhale deeply. “Where are you?” He asks desperately.

Dream can hear the crowd chattering through the phone as he scans over the stadium trying to find you.

“Uh, section 4, row 38, where I am every home game. Why? Is everything okay?” The worry in your voice is evident and it fails to calm Dream down like he thought it would. And when he sees waves of purple instead of green, his anxiety grows.

“I—Y/n. I need to see you, I don’t—I can’t,” Dream screws his eyes shut and tries to breathe through his nose slowly.

“Dream, I’m coming. I can see you in the inner court. Stay there.”

Y/n hangs up after that and Dream looks at his phone.

Scared? A text says from an unknown number.

Dream presses his tongue into the inside of his cheek and blinks a few times. A knock on the plexiglass behind him startles Dream. He turns and sees you smiling. He lifts his hand in a small wave and you do the same, laughing at him. At least he has a way to take his mind off of the shit with the Ravens.

A bell signals the start of the line-up announcements and Dream throws his thumb over his shoulder. You nod, understandingly, and blow him a kiss. Dream smiles shyly, his cheeks growing pink before he turns to leave.

You make your way back up to your seat, your legs bouncing in anticipation as the Ravens walk on the court one by one while the announcer calls the line-up. Once the Ravens are in a line on the halfway line, the Falcons are announced.

Since teams are co-ed, the variances in heights differ greatly. The Ravens are much taller than a majority of the Falcons, which gives them an advantage, to an extent. Dream had told you that being shorter allows you to move around the court with more agility, but being 6’2’’, Dream chose to be a striker instead of a dealer or a backliner.

“Number 2, Dream Tucker.”

At the sound of your best friend’s name, you stand and cheer, earning a few dirty looks from Ravens fans. As the remainder of the team is announced, you grow more nervous than you thought possible. A warning buzzer sounds and both teams go back to their benches.

“Alright, guys, this is our biggest game of the season, again. The last game against these idiots wasn’t ideal, but don’t let that deter you from doing your best tonight. That goes for you too, Dream," Coach looks towards Dream and he nods. Dream draws his bottom lip between his teeth from under his helmet and looks down at the ground. Sapnap’s hand slaps Dream's back in support and then the rest of the team is in agreement.

At his teammates’ words, Dream huffs. He can do this. The starting team goes onto the court, the doors closing behind them with a thump and then the scrape of a lock.

Dream sits on the bench next to Punz and Liliana. They hear the buzzer go off again and then watch as Sapnap flicks the ball into the air and slams it with his racket. There’s a distinctive crack as both teams race off their lines to find their preferred place on the court along with the players they need to mark. Three bodies crash into each other and the ball pops out on the other side, rolling silently.

At the sight of violence, the stadium roars. A Ravens backliner throws the ball and it hits the plexiglass in front of Dream who jumps in surprise. The ball is picked up off the floor by another Ravens player. He throws it to a girl who is running across the court and it lands perfectly into her net. Dream sees Tegan bodyslam the girl into the wall, the glass shuddering under their weight and Sapnap throws his hand up in a thumbs-up at Tegan, who smiles under her helmet.

The ball sails high in the air and players push and shove each other under it. As it comes down, George gets pushed to the floor, skidding to a stop a few feet away. The Ravens striker looks George dead in the eye and smirks as he catches the ball. He then tosses it powerfully towards the home court goal and the Falcons' goalie, Gabby, hits it up the court and away from herself. Dream, Punz and Liliana cheer from their spots on the subs bench.

“Nice one, Gabs! Falcons down the court!” Coach yells through the plexiglass.

Dream wears a smile when he turns back to look at you. You grin back, give him a thumbs-up, and nod. That’s when Dream knows he’s ready.

But, ten minutes into the game, the Ravens break the Falcons defensive line. The ball slips through the gap between Gabby’s torso and racket and lands in the back of the net, the siren above the goal going red and blaring a high-pitched sound. The Ravens don’t hug or cheer and return to their places on the court. Their fans, however, throw insults and middle fingers up at the Falcons while screaming and hollering.

“Fuck’s sake,” Dream mumbles. Punz slaps his pair of gloves against the bench and Liliana shakes her head.

The game went on like this for the rest of the half—the Ravens scoring 6 more goals, the Falcons scoring none. At half-time, Sapnap throws his helmet on the floor of the locker room.

“I fucking hate these guys,” He curses, pacing around the room. Coach sits on a chair, his elbows on his knees.

“We all do, but complaining about it isn’t going to help us win,’ Dream says. “Coach put me on.”

Coach looks at Dream for a moment. The tension in the room is thick and Dream knows he’s pushing his luck by asking. Nonetheless, Coach sighs before nodding stiffly.

“Dream goes on for Peter, Punz on for Drew, Liliana on for Tegan.”

And so it’s decided. Dream’s thumbs fly across his screen as he texts you. You pull your phone out of your pocket at the sound of your text tone and see the message. I’m on.

You smirk softly at it and message him back before you tuck your phone back into your pocket. The warning buzzer sounds and then both teams are back on the court: the Ravens with a whole new line-up and the Falcons with their three new subs.

Dream’s heart pounds in his chest, sending shuddery heat through every inch of his body. He holds his breath in anticipation for the serve, and then it starts. The Ravens are clearly a lot more experienced than the Falcons, but that doesn’t stop the team in green from giving everything they’ve got.

The ball hits the far wall and comes soaring back, thanks to the Ravens goalie. Dream jumps to catch it before it can fly over his head and it lands safely in the soft net of his striker racket. He looks around for opponents and takes 7 steps of his allowed 10, and passes it to George who is open further down the court. George catches the ball, then twists and passes the ball across to Punz. His mark collides with him a moment later and George goes sliding, his arm out with his racket to help him balance. Punz runs down the court, stops, then throws the ball to Liliana. His mark slams his racket down violently on Punz’s in retaliation. The backliner shakes his head in annoyance and continues running.

Dream is already near the goal by the time it gets to him again. He gets the ball and only has two steps to aim and shoot before a Ravens player crashes into him. Dream hits the ground so hard, he rolls. But, the crowd holds their breath as they watch the ball sail past the goalie and into the back of the net. The siren glows red and all Dream can hear is his ears ringing. Sapnap runs up to Dream and helps him up, congratulating him in the process. Dream looks around confused before realising he scored a goal. The entire team rushes towards him, cheering and laughing.

“Good job, Dream! Let’s do that again!” Coach yells. Dream’s surprised he can hear him over the crowd.

The game starts again with Falcons serve. The Falcons’ are fired up and back in the game, even if it is 6-1. And as soon as George throws Dream the ball, he dodges his mark and flies up the court, unguarded and ready to score again. The Ravens’ goalie isn’t prepared for Dream’s throw and misses the ball as it’s thrown at him, making the score 6-2. The crowd gets impossibly louder and Dream looks up into the sea of people to spot you. The smile on your face gives Dream newfound confidence and then everybody is back at their starting positions.

The Ravens are angry, there’s no doubt about that. Sapnap gives the striker a boyish smirk and a snide comment, which Dream can’t hear. He guesses it pisses them off because the second the ball is thrown from the Ravens dealer, the striker goes straight for Sapnap. The younger boy is thrown against the wall of the court and continues to spit insults at the Ravens player, despite his situation.

“Sapnap! Get out of there, bro!” Punz yells, collecting the ball from the ground and throwing it back to Gabby to hit up the court. Sapnap laughs and shakes his head, his lips still moving. Dream sees, out of the corner of his eye, the Ravens player drawing his fist back before punching Sapnap in the nose. The Falcons fans in the crowd start booing at the unnecessary violence and the referees unlock the doors to intervene. Dream meets Sapnap’s eye and raises his eyebrows when he sees Sapnap laughing, blood dripping into his mouth and coating his teeth. The referees pull the Ravens striker off of Sapnap and give him a red card for throwing the first punch. The Ravens fans boo and start swearing at the referees, but their cries are drowned out by the sound of the home crowd.

Due to the incident, the teams are to go back to their positions to start the serve again. Now that the Ravens are down a player, Dream knows the ways to get around them, especially when Sapnap is unguarded.

“Dream!” Sapnap calls when Dream catches the ball. He spins around a little too quickly, loses his balance slightly but throws the ball anyway. As he watches it fly across the court, Dream feels his entire body get crushed against the wall of the court. His head rebounds off the wall from the impact. There’s a heavy weight that pushes him into it more and he can’t breathe. Dream flails his arms, drops his racket, and attempts to push the Ravens player off of him. There’s no doubt that Dream hit his head again. He knows he did. A helmet can only do so much.

Dream can only hear ringing in his ears as he feels the Raven get pulled off—and it isn't the same ringing he heard when he scored the Falcons first goal. He tries to scramble to his feet before he crumples to the ground. Dream blinks a few times, disorientated, but still fails to gain a conscious mind. His eyes start to close when he feels his helmet being tugged off and then someone’s slapping his cheeks. “Stay awake, Dream.”

Dream can barely hear the sound of someone slamming their fists against the plexiglass behind him and then the person in front of him nods. He thinks it’s Sapnap. “Come on, bro, it’s only a few steps and then you can lie down.”

Dream’s head lols to the side, eyes half-open and a lazy grin on his mouth. “Sappy,” he slurs. Sapnap lets out a laugh for the first time since his best friend got knocked out and smiles at him.

“Yeah, dude, it’s me. We’re gonna get you fixed up, okay?” Dream nods before he closes his eyes. “No, no, Coach!” The world fades out around him and Dream falls unconscious.

—

The light is so bright above him. Dream closes his eyes again after he opens them and groans softly. The sound is almost too quiet for you to hear, but you do. And when you do, you lift your head from where you were resting on the edge of his bed. The chair you are sitting in is uncomfortable, so when you stand up, your muscles ache. “Hey, baby, how do you feel?”

If Dream was fully conscious, he would have blushed immensely at the sound of the pet name, but for the moment, he feels like he’s in a dream. His mouth is dry and he struggles to keep his eyes open for longer than 3 seconds. “You don’t have to talk, it’s okay.”

Dream feels pressure on his hand and moves his head slightly to see that your fingers are wrapped around his. You hear him murmur something, and lean down.

“Hi,” He whispers. You furrow your eyebrows at his greeting and look him in the eyes.

“That’s all I get? Hi?” You let out a breathy laugh and use your other hand to brush his hair away from his forehead. But, Dream can’t feel you on his skin. He hesitantly lifts his other hand to touch his forehead and feels a bandage.

“Surprise! Another scar,” You joke. Although, Dream can hear the edge to your words. Your smile disappears from your lips and then you sigh. Your eyes scan over Dream’s face, noting the dull green of his eyes and the pale of his skin. “Oh, Dream. I was so worried about you.”

Dream opens his eyes from when they had fallen closed again and sees the silent tears dripping down your cheeks. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’m fine,” His voice is scratchy and the sound of the word ‘fine’ does not sound fine. You smile sadly at him, then huff, wiping at your face.

“I almost forgot…” You trail off, rounding the bed to the other side to pick up a bowl and a cotton ball. You sit on the edge of the bed and dip the cotton into the antiseptic. You turn Dream’s head slowly to get a better look at the cut on his cheek. You drag the medicine over the gash and watch as Dream doesn’t flinch.

Once you are done, you place both of the things on the side table of the medical bay in the Falcons home stadium and look at Dream. He gives you a lazy smile and his fingers twitch against yours. “Thank you.”

You nod, eyes wide. “Of course, you know I’ll always be here to clean you up.”

Dream can feel his skin heating up. You get a concerned look on your face when you see the rise in pink on his cheeks. “Oh my god, are you heating up? Do you have a fever?”

He wants to laugh so badly. “Y/n, I’m okay. It’s not a fever. I’m blushing,” Dream says bashfully.

You realise why and then grow embarrassed. “Oh.”

The air isn’t tense, but there’s something there and you want to stick around to find out what it is.

Feedback is always appreciated xx

#exyplayer!dream #exy!dream au #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken imagine #mcyt x reader #dreamwastaken imagines #mcyt imagine #mcyt imagines #dream smp imagine #dream smp imagines #dream smp x reader #dreamwastaken au #dream x reader #dream imagine #all for the game au #aftg x dream au #exy player!dream #dwt x reader #dream smp au

[luxekook]

intimidation | myg

⇥ pairing: yoongi x reader

⇥ genre: fluff, a lil touch of smut, college AU

⇥ summary: in which you think Yoongi is intimidating bc of his dark clothing and his quiet ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude… but then someone makes him laugh and you watch as his face lights up in the cutest gummy smile complete with shining eyes and blushing cheeks and BOOM you’re whipped for that boy

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: dirty talk, light smut, cursing

⇥ sequel: intensity

Thursday, September 28th – 11:16am

Min Yoongi intimidated the living hell out of you.

While the boy in question was not all that tall or all that muscular, there was admittedly something in his aura that just screamed ‘big dick energy’... Not that you’d ever get the chance to confirm that hypothesis. You weren’t even sure you wanted to.

Shoulders slumping, you shifted your peripheral gaze off of Yoongi and back onto your professor as she droned on about evolution. Your shared Introduction to Biology class inspired an odd mix of dread and excitement every Tuesday/Thursday morning as a consequence of Min Yoongi’s sheer presence.

Your mind drifted back to the first class of the semester about a month ago...

Arriving in the lecture hall indicated on your class schedule, you took a seat in the middle of the room. You were spoiled for choice given that you had arrived fifteen minutes early for lecture. The first day of classes was always stressful for you, given your tendency to get lost within the many buildings on campus as well as your hatred for lateness.

As the room filled with more and more students, you shuffled through your backpack. “Where the hell is it?” you muttered, searching for your planner where you would jot down important notes.

Finally, you spotted it wedged in between two of your folders. Grasping it in triumph, you tugged it out of your backpack and placed it on your desk. Glancing back up, you found the coldest pair of brown eyes staring back at you.

“Is anyone sitting there?” The question came in a slow drawl, all rough and lazy. Long fingers adorned in rings shifted as the boy pointed towards the empty seat next to you. God, he was offensively good-looking.

You blinked and shook your head, “No, have at it.” His gaze pinned you in place for a few more brief seconds before his chin lifted in acknowledgment and he slumped into place beside you.

You had learned absolutely nothing that first class. Or any subsequent class that Min Yoongi deigned with his presence. The odds were about 50/50 on any given day.

Today, his presence was wreaking havoc on your nervous system. Since the initial encounter on your first day of class, the amount of words exchanged between the two of you could be counted on one hand. Last week he had asked you for your notes from a previous class he had missed, and you almost burned from the inside out with embarrassment as he took in your impeccably organized and color-coded notes with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk.

“Were you planning on framing these?” he had asked while snapping a quick series of photos of your notebook pages. In response, you had scowled, pulling your notebook out of his reach.

You were a nerd. You knew that. But you didn’t like being made fun of for it. Especially by a boy as arrogantly apathetic as Min fucking Yoongi.

Therefore, you were doing your absolute best to ignore him today. The hour and a half of class dragged by so slowly you thought you might have grown a couple gray hairs by the time your professor dismissed everyone.

Rushing to pack up your belongings and multitude of colored pens, a small slip of paper dropped onto your desk. Confused, you immediately glanced up to find the source and found Yoongi sauntering away from you, black backpack hitched over one shoulder carelessly.

Fingers shaking, you opened the hastily folded paper: “(y/n) – Sorry if I made you upset last class. I only meant to extend my compliments to the artist... – MYG.”

Compliments to the—Min Yoongi was so full of shit. But you couldn’t fight the small smile that spread across your face.

“(y/n) ... (y/n) ... (y/n)!”

The sound of your name shook you from your thoughts. Your roommate Nia decided that wasn’t enough and she shoved you in the arm.

“Ow, what the hell, Nia?” you grumbled, rubbing your left bicep dramatically.

Nia scoffed, “You’re staring into your bland salad like it holds the key to the universe. What’s up with you?”

Stabbing said salad with your fork, you waved your well-lettuced utensil in your roommate’s face, “What’s up is that I cannot stand Min Yoongi! He walks around looking like god’s gift to anyone attracted to men. Then, he has the audacity to critique my notes and give me a half-assed apology with further ridicule? The nerve! The gall!”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Nia cut off your rampage succinctly, “Min Yoongi apologized to you? We are talking about the same Min Yoongi, right? Bleached hair? Piercings? General hatred for life?”

You nodded. Nia’s eyebrows rose to new heights, “We must contact the historians. This is one for the books.”

Rifling through your planner, you pulled out the note Yoongi left you and thrust it in Nia’s direction, “Look!”

Unfolding the small torn paper, you watched as Nia’s eyes darted back and forth... and back and forth... and back and forth.

“Well?”

Nia’s wide eyes lifted to yours, “(y/n) ... Min Yoongi is flirting with you.”

You choked on your lettuce, “What? Where on earth are you getting that? He’s clearly roasting me.”

“Nope,” Nia threw the note back at you, “Clearly flirting. Damn, Min Yoongi is into my best friend? This is wild! Okay, you first need to get on that, and then you need introduce me to Park Jimin.”

“Are you insane?” Your outburst gained annoyed looks from the surrounding students in the dining hall and you lowered your voice, “I am not ‘getting on’ anyone!”

Rolling her eyes, Nia stared pointedly to the right, “So if I'm hearing you correctly, you’re saying that you don’t find him attractive?”

Your eyes followed her line of vision and landed on none other than your topic of conversation. 

God, he looked good. Even surrounded by his group of attractive friends, Yoongi stood out to you. You were just about to glance away when it happened.

Kim Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh burst through the cacophony of conversations, following what must have been one of his famously so-bad-they’re-good jokes.

And then Min Yoongi smiled.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you watched his eyes crinkle, his cheeks turn a pretty pink and, his smile to widen into the cutest, most devastating gummy smile you had ever seen in your entire life.

“Holy fuck.” You exhaled. It was official. You were fucking whipped.

“Yup, that’s what I thought,” Nia’s smug tone pulled your focus away from this new version of Yoongi you were desperate to know, “Still going to deny that you want to jump his bones?”

“...No.”

You were scared shitless by Nia’s maniacal grin in response to your admission.

“Excellent,” she smirked, her palms rubbing together like a plotting villain, “Here’s what we’re going to do...”

Friday, September 29th – 10:34pm

Your hands tugged at the hem of the short leather miniskirt Nia loaned you for the night as your stomach flipped more times than Simone Biles’ floor routine.

Damn, you were nervous.

When Nia talked you into attending Kim Taehyung’s party, you had agreed pretty easily. You both had reasoned that Yoongi might not even be there; and, if he was, you would just see if he would approach you.

It had seemed so simple in the moment, but now as you grasped your beer you realized that nothing regarding Min Yoongi was simple. Since arriving about twenty minutes ago, you and Nia had immediately been recruited for beer pong by Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook. Unable to crush Nia’s dreams of hooking up with Jimin, you had agreed immediately even though you were both absolutely terrible at the game.

Jimin and Jungkook now only had one cup left to make, while you and Nia had five. You dipped the pong ball into the designated cup of water to clean it, took aim and watched in glee as the ball sailed into the front cup.

“Oh, fuck yes!” You and Nia high-fived, taking in the rare victory. Opening her mouth to respond, Nia’s words died in her throat as she looked over your shoulder.

“What is it?” you began to turn to see what was so alarming to your friend.

“No!” Nia hissed, “Don’t you dare turn around. Min Yoongi is staring at you like you’re a five-course meal and he’s starving.”

Your soul left your body, only to be snapped back into place with the interrupting cheers from Jimin and Jungkook as they sunk their last cup.

“Good game!” Jungkook’s arm wrapped around you in a half-hug. You shoot Nia a look, but she’s completely occupied in conversation with Jimin. Jungkook’s arm fell to encircle your waist when you felt it – the weight of a certain someone’s gaze.

You barely registered Jimin and Nia’s exit from the pong table and onto the makeshift dancefloor in Taehyung’s living room. And when Jungkook suggested getting another drink from the kitchen you almost shouted in agreement. Anything to escape the eyes you knew were glued to you.

He’s just a boy, you tried to remind yourself, you could handle Min Yoongi.

You followed Jungkook into the cramped kitchen, nodding along to whatever story he’s rambling on about. Locating the vast array of alcohol scattered along the kitchen island, you grabbed a solo cup and fixed yourself a rum and coke.

“...and then Jin-hyung said ‘It’s burgundy!’” You tuned back in to Jungkook’s story just in time to laugh in the appropriate place. You felt bad. Jungkook was cute and sweet, but just not your type.

“Jungkook,” a low voice broke through your shared laughter.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in alarm as he turned to face the intruder, “Yoongi-hyung! Wh-what’s up?”

Yoongi’s gaze narrowed; Jungkook gulped, “Bye, (y/n)-noona.”

You watched in horror as Jungkook literally scrambled out of the room to get away from you and Yoongi.

“Why’d you do that?” You looked up at Yoongi.

Damn, he looked good. His blonde locks were tousled like he had been running his hands through it and his cheeks were slightly flushed – probably from drinking.

Yoongi ignored your question, shooting a look at the group of boys occupying the kitchen counter space next to you and they immediately made themselves scarce.

His dark gaze turned back to you, “Why Jungkook?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“Why were you talking to Jungkook, (y/n)?” Yoongi moved closer to you, backing you into the counter behind you, “That boy couldn’t handle you.”

Your eyebrows quirked up, “And why’s that?”

“Because, baby, all that hair, all that ass, and all that attitude needs a man to give you what you want and what you need.”

You struggled to formulate an answer as you watched as he took a long sip of his beer, his eyes continuing to burn into yours.

“Are you drunk, Min Yoongi?”

“Lil’ bit,” he muttered and shot you a devastating half-smile, “But still sober enough to appreciate how goddamn good you look right now.”

Your mouth opened and closed several times before you choked out, “I thought you hated me?”

His hand darted through his hair as his jaw flexed once… twice, “Not even close.”

“But you don’t talk to me... you made fun of my notes!”

“I don’t talk to you because I think you’re so fucking cute with your colored pens and your oversized sweatshirts and your overused planner. I don’t talk to you because I want to ruin you and worship you all at once.”

All air had escaped your lungs at this point. You let out a jagged breath as Yoongi suddenly slid his hands around your waist.

He scooped you off the floor and placed you on the edge of the counter. Your arms circled his shoulders instinctually and his grip tightened on your hips. When he glanced down at you, he let out a rough breath, sounding like you were torturing him.

Turning to the side, you tried to hide from his intensity behind the curtain of your hair, but he just pushed it back behind your ear.

“Yoongi, please…” Your desperate words left your mouth subconsciously, the feeling of his lips so close to yours made your pulse race and your head spin.

“What do you want, baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse and his pupils dilated, “I’ll give you anything. Just ask.”

“Kiss me?” You barely finished asking your question before Yoongi’s lips slammed onto your own.

He kissed you like he wanted to own you – and to have you own him. Gravity tried to drag you down off the counter and your mouths separated in a gasp. Yoongi hoisted you up higher with a firm hand on the back of your thigh.

Hooking your leg around his slim waist, you tugged him into you, feeling every inch of his body respond to your touch. He breathed heavily as you dragged your nails down his back slowly, provokingly. You felt his responding groan rumble deep from within his chest.

His free hand latched into your hair and tugged your lips back to his. You both moaned as his tongue circled yours, twining around it, enticing yours to follow.

You swore the way Min Yoongi kissed could be felt all the way down to your bones.  

His kisses got greedier, more desperate as he seemed to be trying to memorize the taste of your mouth on his. “God-fucking-damn," he panted, pulling back slightly and resting his forehead on yours.

You smiled, completely fucked out. His fingertips dragged down your skin slowly until he reached your waist. His hands slid up under your shirt, and he rested his palms against your skin, fingers splayed down over your hips. His hold was undeniably possessive.

Shifting his head into the crevice of your neck, Yoongi muttered, “Go out with me, (y/n).”

The only answer your last few braincells could formulate was a garbled “Mkay”. But judging from the smile you felt against your pulse point, it was good enough for him.

a/n: originally was going to make this fic about jungkook (inspired by this post), but I decided I needed to write it about Yoongi bc he is baby

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

#bts #btswritingcafe #bts smut #bts imagine #bts fic #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #myg x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts au #college yoongi #yoongi imagine

[moonbaby26]

Title: The Village

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation of previous chapter. Loki returns again, this time manipulating you into becoming involved with infighting between mortals. Yet with some goals of his own fulfilled in the end results. Guest appearance in this chapter by the god Eros.

Warnings: *Smut near the end of the chapter* Beginning and end of smut is marked in red within the chapter for those who wish to skip it.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys , @loveableasshole , @insanitybyanothername

My Masterlist

——————————

It was a little over three weeks later before anything else had happened. But you’d tried very hard to remain reasonable with your daydreaming in the time between. Because Loki owed you nothing after all.

It would have been far easier to write off your experience with him as just brief acts of lust that any two beings could experience. Yet, you’d found yourself thinking just as much about those quiet hours sitting beside him with a book in your hand as you did that very physical night in the cave together. The parts were equal in your mind. You desired to have both again, because all of it was him.

The real surprise was still there though when word finally reached you that he’d again returned to the ocean’s edge. You could not take a moment for granted. And you wouldn’t, even as each time he came you found your excitement only grew. That warmth that rose through you at just the sound of his name only came quicker and lasted longer every time.

Yet today had also been the first where he hadn’t called from that southern beach where you’d met all the times previous. This fourth meeting actually came in the north. From the lands you would have more associated with the legends of his family to begin with.

Even though the bifrost could open wherever he asked it to you supposed, your curiosity still swelled predictably as you stepped out of the icy waters onto these more foreign black sands. It was rocky, and the sky only grey above as you first saw him standing there near the water’s edge.

And you did stare, seeing his normal black and green leather now replaced with golden armor and a flowing emerald cape. He was in full adornment this time, including that horned helmet you’d only seen in artists’ renderings from the books you’d studied before.

It suited him well, though making a stark contrast between the two of you you were sure as you only stood before him barefoot and dripping wet in one of your usual dresses.

“Are you off to battle?” You asked in genuine question, still taking that view in.

He just smirked though, seeming to be staring at you as well. “Don’t you ever get cold running around so uncovered like that?”

“I feel the cold, yes. But it doesn’t harm me.” You answered simply, though still looking at him expectantly as he’d ignored your own question.

He just turned after another moment though, beginning to walk back up the bank. “I’m only here on an errand for Father. Normally this foolishness would be something I’d decline. But with Odin and brother both off battling in Alfheim, it left Father no choice but to send his second option of course.”

You were already walking as well then, following him without even being asked. He made it all sound so uninteresting though. And if he didn’t even want to be here, then why would he have called you as well then?

A path cut between the cliff face that edged the shoreline, and before you could ask anything further, you were surprised to see a large mortal village coming into view further up the path. You stopped immediately, hesitating at the sight.

But he noticed as you did so, only looking back at you tauntingly as he paused as well. “Don’t tell me you’re shy now?”

What was he planning to do? You tried to keep your contact with mortals limited save for whatever your own father asked you to do, as directly interfering in the wrong ways could sometimes lead to serious consequences. You honestly shirked the attention, often not even letting them lay eyes on you unless you were under the guise of something else.

“Are you planning to make yourself known to them?” You asked a bit incredulously.

“Well of course. How else should they know who to thank when we’re done here?” He answered as if it was only the most obvious thing in the world before he just continued ahead without you.

His stride was so confident. Not a trace of feeling out of place at all even as you couldn’t bear it any longer, transforming yourself into an osprey just to fly nervously along up above him before you could be seen.

Yet he didn’t seem surprised, only a slight smugness in his expression as he glanced up at you briefly in your new form.

That was before the mortal soldiers erupted out at the edge of the settlement anyway. Their yelling brought Loki’s attention back to the path, and you circled in the sky, trying to interpret the words.

Their tone was so much gruffer and faster, harder for you to translate in realtime.

But Loki’s elegant, almost indifferent tone of response you understood far better as he only answered back in that same Nordic tongue.

“Unleash those arrows upon me, beasts, and you’ll find them quite wasted. Are you really so inept as to not recognize your own savior now standing before you?”

With that, he extended out his arms in a grandiose gesture of self importance. Yet the movement proved to be more than just empty posing as you then saw all their arrows fall to the ground as writhing snakes.

The illusion was extremely convincing, even these burly men startling in surprise at the sight.

“Sorcery!” One of them called, though rightly looking no more trusting at the revelation.

“What clan do ye hail from? State your purpose here, sorcerer!” Another said.

Even from this distance, you could see the brief look of exasperation as Loki rolled his eyes. “Has my brother really been away from Midgard so long that you now fail to recognize the house of Odin at all? Such disrespect.”

It was only the mention of Odin’s name that brought an all new nervousness to the men’s body language.

And that edge of newfound fear clearly pleased Loki. “Oh, now things are finally coming together! But seeing is believing, isn’t it boys?”

In an instant then, there was not just one of him, but multiple as replicant images of Loki suddenly surrounded the men. His voice echoing as it came from each, “Odin the Allfather has answered your prayers, I, Loki, god of Asgard shall spare your clan and this village from your enemy’s approach.” His cold smirk returned. “But I require your full allegiance in return of course.”

The fear was really evident in their faces then, but in your own mind you doubted the duplicate images were anything tangible. They likely couldn’t harm the men, only the real Loki could. But the trickery was sufficient as in your surprise, you saw the men fall to their knees one after the other.

And the most genuine grin you’d ever seen on Loki’s face spread instantly at that. He actually chuckled, an honest, happy sound as the men’s heads also bowed.

“Forgive us, Loki, god of mischief.” The oldest looking of the men spoke humbly then. “No one here has laid eyes on a god of Asgard in our lifetimes. We only know the legends our ancestors have taught us, of your victories at Odin’s side across the nine realms. Our loyalty does still lay with you, son of Odin.”

“Finally, a wise man speaks.” Loki answered, still pleased before continuing. “You must be the clan chief. Listen to your elders, boys. And remember it was only Loki who came here today. Not Odin, not Thor. Me. That should be noted in your carvings from now on. Those little hammers embellished on your shields gave you no help today. Mjolnir hears not your pleas.”

And still circling above in your bird of prey form, it was only then that you did notice those emblems on their shields as well. It was clear no details escaped Loki.

“Thor forgets you, too occupied in the happenings of the other realms, but I, merciful as I am do not.”

You may have sighed at that, if you’d been physically capable anyway. He was clearly enjoying this now. But out the corner of your vision, something else caught your eyes as you turned sharply back into the wind.

Sails. Large white sails approaching over the ocean’s horizon. You suddenly remembered Loki’s comment then about sparing this place from their enemy’s approach. But now your nervousness only returned full force as you swooped back down towards him.

Did he really plan to interfere in a coming battle here? Maybe he had permission to do so, but you absolutely did not!

You chirped sharply, but realized quickly he could not understand you in this form. Not like the nymphs could. He seemed amused though at your evident agitation as he offered his forearm. You landed awkwardly on his arm, talons closing around the armor there as you spread your wings to maintain your balance.

He leaned his face in slightly though, speaking only to you in your native Greek. “Was it that many boats then? They’re only marauders. I’m sure your father won’t mind if you kill a few. All you’d need say is that these Norse folk had shown you hospitality, and then these other fools attacked. What else were you to do? And regardless, I’ve already promised our protection to them.”

Our? Your eyes stared holes into him at that. You had promised nothing. This was beyond ridiculous. Yet even in your annoyance, you knew deep down that there were still rules of etiquette that had been bred into you. Ones that couldn’t be ignored when it came to dealings with other gods. If he told them he would do something, while expecting your help to make it happen, and then you let him fail...it could only make them lose further faith in all your kind.

Which even Zeus himself would have admitted that lack of respect as a worsening problem with every successive mortal generation. They believed less and less.

“If you let their boats reach the shore, they’ll happily kill every last man and child on this soil. Only the younger women would live, albeit would they really wish to once they’re sold off like livestock?” Loki added, almost chipper even in those dark words.

You gave the side of his helmet a good, harsh peck, making him turn his face away in reflex before you finally took flight again.

God of mischief indeed. What were you really getting yourself into if you only kept showing him that you were here for whatever use he saw fit?

Though you had somewhat told him that hadn’t you? Back on the beach that day. That whatever kind of relationship he desired with you, you would address the needs as you came to them. You’d more meant in the sense of possibly becoming closer than friends of course. More like that night in the cave. But this...what in Gaia’s name was this?

You pumped your wings hard, then flying back over the sea as you neared the boats and quickly counted them. How many would you have to destroy in order to break their morale?

The quicker you could get this done though, the better. Any kind of prolonged battle may only attract more onlookers, increasing the chances of you having to explain these uncomfortable motivations with your father soon.

Tucking your wings in, you dove suddenly, the only difference between you and a real osprey being that as soon you hit the water, you didn’t surface again. You regained the form of a woman once more, sinking beneath the boats even as you raised your arms towards them.

It took real concentration, especially when your emotions were still all over the place. But the previously calm seas did eventually start to churn. As you clenched your fists, the whirlpools began to tighten around first one, then two, then three of the longships

That should be well enough you thought to yourself. Even from below you could hear the wood snapping as the hulls began to give. Once the boats listed past the point of no return, the masts began to snap as well, the large canvas that was the sails crashing down to the water below and billowing out.

The sunlight cut through the fabric, making the strangest shadows as you swam back from under it. You noted that these men were fairly capable swimmers as well as the fallen began to make their own ways back to the surface.

You left their survival to chance, not trying to pull them any further down, but not helping them either as they swam for rescue towards the remaining boats.

The nymphs that had followed you to this shore also kept things hands off, merely watching in a mix of awe and confusion from beneath the water. But you didn’t have time to explain, only nodding your acknowledgement towards them. They would have to wait.

But you weren’t sure what you were really going to tell them either as you only changed back into the osprey then, breaking the surface before you flapped hard enough to leave the water entirely. You simply glided back towards shore once you caught the wind again.

Loki now stood expectantly on the beach, far more men than you had seen earlier gathered behind him. Dumbstruck expressions graced all the mortals faces as that prince of Asgard only offered you his arm once more.

You landed on his forearm again, making sure to fluff your wet feathers hard enough to throw some seawater on him. Just because you’d done what he’d wanted didn’t mean your frustration was at all over. Conversations would definitely be had.

But he only smiled even as that bit of cold water ran back down his neck and beneath his armor, further annoying you before he whispered then. “Quite a performance. But don’t act as if I won’t be rewarding you later. The day is still young.”

Yet you could only ponder the meaning behind such words, as you were then the one who had to endure several more hours of the village’s praises for Loki instead.

When the marauders had indeed retreated, fading back from sight, all the mortals had come out to rejoice. The ones who had witnessed it all firsthand, recounted the events with excitement again and again to all those others who came to listen.

You’d ended up in their mead hall, candles burning in the dim structure as it filled with the smell of cooked meat and the raucous noise of the townspeople. Men, women, and even the children all filled the hall in celebration.

Loki of course sat at the head of the long feast table as the guest of honor, quite comfortable you thought in their most ornate chair as you only perched on one of its armrest beside him. In the candlelight, the shadows danced around the edges of his face and helmet.

Even in this bird form, you thought he caught you staring at him a few times though. But what else did you have to do? You couldn’t speak, and you still didn’t want to reveal your true self to these strangers. You kept hoping he’d have his fill of the attention at some point, where you’d finally be able to leave again.

But that was wishful thinking surely. Though you did put your attention back to the mortals as the clan chief had made his way to the both of you.

He bowed respectfully, “Prince Loki, I wished to inform you that I have spoken to our carpenters and they believe the building you requested could be finished within two months time.”

Your confusion may have even translated through your body language then as your head tilted and your feathers ruffled. The what?

But Loki didn’t add any elaboration to the subject, only seeming pleased. “Good.” He said simply.

And before you could show any further displeasure at being left in the dark, you saw that mortal leader then looking at you specifically with curiosity.

“If it is not too much a question, prince...” He started, yet treading carefully. “I have heard the stories of the Allfather and his ravens Huginn and Muninn. But I did not know you too possessed a bird, and of such ability. What is its name? It’s quite beautiful.”

His words were unexpected, but the greater surprise was the feel of Loki’s fingers then down your neck and back, physically petting you as if you really were just some adored companion.

You startled, chirping as you turned your head to nip his hand in reflex.

Loki only grinned once more though, moving his fingers out of your reach just as quickly. “Oh, she’s quite proud. Which she should be. Father’s birds are only spies. This bird you see here is...” Loki gave you a sly look, as if teasing that he would reveal you in that very moment. But he didn’t, just glancing back to the man instead. “I call her Kærr.”

Who? You stared. So he was just making up names for you now? And you didn’t even recognize the word as you racked your brain to try and remember a meaning for it in the Norse words you’d read.

But you couldn’t. It could mean fool for all you knew. Little fool who just followed Loki, letting themselves be used in all the dumbest ways.

——————————

At last, the festivities had finally begun to wane and Loki had stood. The mortals all praising him once more as he’d made some speech about needing to return to Asgard, but now being a protector of this town as long as they kept their loyalty to him.

You were truthfully tired by now. Not so much physically, but mentally from the run of emotions you’d had to deal with in silence over the last several hours.

It was fully nighttime when he’d finally walked out of view from the village, now deep in some dark forest, probably heading towards wherever he planned to reopen the bifrost.

When you were confident that no mortals had followed though, you at last landed on the forest floor in front of him, changing back into your true form of a woman.

“Start talking. Now.” You breathed. The anger you’d wanted to express earlier though just sounded like exasperation. But you had so many questions.

He paused, the bits of moonlight that broke through the tree canopy, now glinting white off his armor as he grinned.

“You do have patience, goddess. But I didn’t ask you to trap yourself in the form of a bird all day, let’s remember that firstly.” And he only walked closer to you at that, seemingly all too confident that you wouldn’t attack him just in spite now. “Secondly, I did this for the both of us.”

“For us?” You asked incredulously.

“Well you were too shy to take proper credit of course, which again, not my fault. But I told them this town was under our protection-”

“And you’ll just go back to Asgard and leave me to deal with it! If a god goes back on their word, you know how that makes us all look. I didn’t ask to adopt a village today!”

Yet he was unbothered even as your voice rose. “You’ll do wonderfully. Don’t pretend you don’t have a weakness for these creatures. I’ve seen how you pity them. Consider them your new pets, my gift to you.”

But you scoffed, still so disbelieving. “You’re mad. And really, did Odin even send you here? Or was that more fantasy as well?”

Yet the more flustered you got, the more amused he started to look. “Well, the village leader’s great, great, great something or other ancestor actually was a friend of my Father’s. They fought side by side once. But no, Father doesn’t know I’m here. He’s in Alfheim, as I said.”

But Loki knew it’d give you more inclination to go along with things surely if Odin’s name was attached. Didn’t he? “And the marauders?” You asked as your questions only continued.

He just smirked. “That probably would have happened on its own eventually. There’s a lot of bad blood there apparently. But I’m not as patient as you. That did need a little goading.”

You sighed. “Which you provided I’m sure. Did you pass word to them that this village was preparing to attack them?”

“Oh, something like that.”

“Okay, but why? They say you like chaos, but I haven’t seen you do anything yet that wasn’t for a reason.”

“I already told you. This is for us.” He only reiterated.

“And I still don’t believe it. What building was that man talking about making? A shrine to you? A temple?”

“A house.” He corrected.

“A...what?” You stared.

“Well, not what I’d consider a real one. It had to be quite small unfortunately, or else it’d take them a year or more to build. But nearby, up on this hill actually is where it will be. I told them we’d need a place to stay when in the mortal realm. And if they kept it well maintained, our protection would continue.”

You were finally silent for a few moments then, thoughts spinning furiously. Madness was right. Did he really...did he really plan all this for just this reason? “So, is that why you did all this?” You asked at last.

“I’d prefer not to just meet in wet, muddy caves for the foreseeable future if it’s all the same to you.” He answered with a little air of haughtiness returning.

But you weren’t ready to trust yet. Not where it really counted. “And should I be flattered? Or is there a ‘house’ like this in every realm for you?”

For those words though, even in the moonlight you could see a greedier look come into his eyes as he tilted his head, examining you once more. “Hmm. That’s new. But as fetching as jealousy is on you...you’re wrong. My only other bed would be in Asgard. And I don’t waste my time trying to fill it.”

Jealous? Is that what he thought? You opened your mouth as if to retort, but realized anything you could think to say in defense would only make him sound more correct.

“This is ridiculous.” Was all you finally said. Not knowing how to really express anything further.

“And what else would you really have done so important today if I hadn’t come?” He smirked, reaching a hand out.

He held your chin lightly then, making you realize how close he’d really moved to you in the time you’d been talking.

“You already forgot what I promised didn’t you?” He asked more quietly then.

Your look in return said that you clearly had before he just continued.

“Your reward.” He spoke, before leaning in to kiss you.

You tensed, but didn’t pull away. Such arrogance you still managed to think though, him acting as if his touch alone would erase every negative feeling and upset of the day.

But life was now more complicated than you’d ever known before. Even if this didn’t make everything alright and forgiven...you didn’t want him to stop either as you eventually returned the kiss, leaning further into him. After his hand let go of your face, you felt his arms slide around your waist next, pulling you to him tightly.

It wasn’t as fully desperate, as hungry as that night in the cave. But there was still a clear need there, tasting him all over again as he kissed you again and again.

“I have to return to Asgard.” He breathed eventually though, yet looking at you with body language that didn’t at all match his words as he hadn’t loosened his grip at all. “But speak up, goddess. Would it be more insult just to leave, or to only be quick this time in taking something we both want?”

“Are you, are you asking me...” You were trying to catch up with his thought process. It was late in the night, and he’d already been gone from his kingdom all day. He may be lying still, but it was very possible he had already overstayed whatever time he’d intended to be here. Especially if Odin and Thor really were in another realm right now. Loki’s absence would only be that more evident to his people. So he was about to leave, but he wanted to know if you wanted him to...jump to the finish before he left you?

“Why is it so hard for you to say?” He pushed, moving his hips against you slightly to further his intention.

“I will not be your whore, Loki. That much must be understood.” You replied. Not angrily, but still serious enough to show your sincerity in that statement as you found your voice again.

Yet he just laughed, a genuine one at that. “Just when I think you can’t surprise me any further...you go and say something so foolish.”

But he’d already grabbed your wrist before you could slap him, then continuing. “Calm your temper. I only laugh because you keep assuming so much. If there’s a whore here tonight, it would only be me of course.”

The resulting confusion in your eyes only seemed to encourage him too as he smiled again. “I know it’s not just fucking you want. And there will be more time later to explore that. But gods, woman, I left an empty throne sitting there in Asgard today just for a chance at this. How else could that not make me a whore tonight?”

You really didn’t know at this point, if all his words were only meant to manipulate you further, or if he was actually being truthful right now.

“You make my head hurt.” You grumbled at last, just running your hand down the armor on his chest until it reached his waist.

“You make my...well, I think you can assume what part of me hurts right now.” He just smirked at your resulting expression, his hands starting to bunch up your dress a little. “What? Too crude? I could change into a woman just as easily you know, if you rather something a little different.”

“I thought you said you wanted to make this quick.” You retorted. As in your mind, working up a woman to full arousal would be far more time consuming if your own body was any indication. While men were up and ready at a moment’s notice weren’t they?

“You imply that I can’t have you trembling just as fast then?” He said, seeming to accept the challenge when you didn’t stop him from further raising your dress.

* SMUT STARTS HERE

*

*

You’d only expected to feel one of his hands back between your legs next. So when he abruptly dropped to his knees in front of you instead, you were truly shocked.

You felt his hands on your bare waist, keeping your dress bunched up and out of the way as he glanced back up at you briefly, a wicked look in those blue eyes. How someone could look so predatory, even while on their own knees, you did not know.

All you could do was gasp as you felt his mouth meet your opening roughly, sucking you before his tongue quickly flicked out, so much like a snake against the sensitive flesh.

It was so surreal really, the cool metal of the horned helmet also brushing and scraping against your skin as its master moved obscenely in his attempts to unravel you.

Reflexively, your hips also tried to squirm away from his pressing mouth, so sensitive to the roughness as he went back to sucking what was already becoming swollen. But he’d allow none of it. He only gripped you harder, fingers digging into your soft bottom to keep you against him.

He was going to win. How this had even become a contest, you were not sure. But pride or not, your legs were already feeling like jelly. He would win.

“Loki,” You pleaded, nothing to really brace yourself against as your own knees started to bend.

But he didn’t stop, no. He only pressed even faster at your desperation, tongue flicking and probing over and over, mouth sucking for what felt like ages. But you knew it really couldn’t have been that long at all. Embarrassingly short even before you shuddered harshly, the orgasm cutting through you.

Even in those little aftershocks though, you could feel his teeth as he smiled against you. But he didn’t let go of you, helping you stay upright even as he stood back up himself. “Was that fast enough for you?” He taunted lowly, lips still clearly wet in the moonlight from you before he moved you almost gently backward.

Your back found a large tree trunk behind you, the bark gladly smooth as it helped further support you while he pushed your dress back upward again.

Your eyes met again as you felt him abruptly slide into you at that. He was still fully dressed, but at some point as he’d stood, he’d opened just his pants, that hard flesh now fully sheathing back inside of you before he began to thrust.

It was steady this time, slower, but still forceful as he watched your expression every time he reached that deepest point.

“Do you think you could get used to this?” He asked, breath still a bit labored, likely just from his own arousal.

You knew your own heartbeat was still pounding in your ears, so you could only imagine that his was now doing much the same as you kissed him again.

The taste was strange, still the remnants from you of course, but you didn’t mind it.

“I could.” You did answer though when you pulled back slightly again.

But you didn’t know how this would really work. Would you just keep meeting here now whenever he wanted to see you? The mortals would make some sort of cabin? Room? What have you, for you to stay in? Is this really what he wanted? Wouldn’t he only grow bored of the novelty eventually?

Either that, or one of your families may end up intervening. This couldn’t be kept just to the two of you indefinitely. Heimdall already knew of you of course.

There were still so many questions.

Yet he only seemed focused on the here and now as he finally shuddered against you as well and you felt that tell tale wetness of his cum overflowing slightly down your thigh.

His hands ran up under your dress still, not seeming to want to let go even as he continued to watch you as his own orgasm dissipated.

“...It may be a while before I can return. The mess in Alfheim I don’t see as being resolved soon.” He spoke after a few more moments, breaking the silence.

And he did slide back out of you then, covering himself back within his pants once more after his hands finally let go of you to let your dress also fall back down around your legs.

*

*

*SMUT OVER

He continued though, not leaving your side just yet. “Father’s already been gone over a week now, brother too. Technically putting the kingdom in my care for now. I used the excuse of those marauders attacking this village with old connections to Father as a reason to come check on Midgard today. I don’t quite think Mother believed my motives either. The two of you would likely get along well in your odd combination of suspicion yet fondness for me you know.”

Fondness he said. That was some kind of word for it. But you weren’t sure it was the right one. “If you’ve never had much interest in my world before, then yes, I’m sure anyone would be doubtful.” Of course he’d never spoken of his mother to you. Maybe eventually you could learn more. But not tonight as you realized time was finally up.

As he pulled away, his hand only brushed yours gently, that green cape moving behind him as he walked away. “Goodnight, goddess.”

There was a clearing in the distance, evidently carved earlier from the bifrost as he stepped into the opening and called up to Heimdall.

It was only at that moment though that you remembered one more thing. You yelled out to him suddenly, so he would still hear you at this distance. “Wait, what does Kærr mean!?”

But even from this far you could still see his smug smile spreading before the light of the bifrost overtook him and he was gone.

“Dammit.” You said to no one. This would cause you a whole new trip to the library on Olympus you were sure. All for one simple word.

——————————

It wasn’t until days later that you did make it back to Olympus though. You’d had to apologize to a couple of the nymphs, asking them to keep an eye on that town for you. Your apparent new charity project that Loki had left you with.

Now in the library you’d been pouring over the few more detailed Norse language texts you could find. It’d been much easier the last time you’d been here, when you’d just been trying to learn the gist of Asgard’s history and the very basics of their language. Trying to find the definition of one specific word however proved far more tedious.

But you did finally come across it.

Kærr: Dear, of great value or excellence, precious, beloved-

And you couldn’t read any further, a strange emotion flaring as you’d exclaimed, “Oh, bullshit!” instantly closing the book back shut, then sitting there a moment as this new information settled over you.

He had to be kidding. Just a flippant joke to him surely. And yet, why did it bother you so much? You really had expected the name to have some sort of negative definition, some kind of taunt or insult that he’d be able to laugh about later whenever it’d finally dawned on you.

But this was far worse. It was cruel if he didn’t mean it. Yet...somehow maybe even crueler if he did. Because what were you supposed to do with this knowledge? What could you do?

“Hello, stranger.” A soft voice called as you heard footsteps approaching though.

You looked up in time to see a bit too beautiful god pull out a chair across from you, just sitting at your library table as well then with a friendly smile.

“Hi, Eros,” you said reflexively, still sounding a bit not yourself. He was just your cousin after all, well cousin once removed anyway.

But when he didn’t say anything immediately back, just giving you a sort of sympathetic look instead, the real threat of his presence hit you at once like a lead weight as your eyes widened a little.

“No...no, no, no.” You said quickly, lowering your voice as you leaned in towards the god, not knowing what other ears may be listening. “Eros, I literally just met him. Four times total!” You counted out four fingers from your hand, waving them in front of him for emphasis.

He tilted his head. Yet only answering gently, “Cousin, I sensed you as soon as you arrived here. Are you okay?”

You sighed, but knew you could trust him to keep this revelation to himself. It was part of his job frankly. “It wouldn’t matter would it? I mean, I know you haven’t met him. But he’s not going to feel the same. I’d think at most it would be some kind of possessive thing. He is...well, he’s very self important. Honesty is also not a preference of his.”

But to this Eros just smiled. “No one is perfect, especially among our kind. I can tell you with full certainty though that the biggest lie ever told is when someone claims to not desire love. I’ve seen the hearts of the cruelest dictators all the way to the homeless peasant in the street. They all beg me for it deep down. Even if they can’t always admit it to themselves.”

You rested your elbows on the table, just looking down again. “But that doesn’t mean he’d want it from me necessarily.”

“Love is never a given. It wouldn’t be so valuable otherwise. But you can’t lose hope too soon just because you’re new at something. You need to see it through. That’s the only way to ever find out.”

You looked back up at him wryly, knowing it would be foolish not to accept a little relationship advice from the god of love himself. But as he’d said there was no guarantee this would end up working either. “So if everything goes horribly wrong, I can just blame you, right?”

He shrugged, a bit of a wise ass himself to be true. “Might as well. Everyone else does.”

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#loki #loki smut #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x oc #loki x original female character #loki x original character #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #loki lafeyson #loki layfeyson x reader

[tarithenurse]

Accidental Partners - 6

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Sam Wilson & fem!reader Contents: Cussing, description of nightmares, change in PoV. A/N: Just a little something inspired by a @writing-prompt-s prompt: “Two random strangers are in couples therapy together. They both decide to pretend they’re a couple, despite having met each other two minutes ago”.

6. The long wait

Your life has turned into a loading screen. All you can do is sit and stare until someone else does something or tells you to act. Like a puppet.

Still, you know you could be worse off. Restricted to the house and the immediate surroundings, the dream of going sailing has been put on halt...but you’re comfortable in your house arrest – food is great and there is company if you want it.

It has taken you a week to optimize the computer while trying to be sneaky. The keyword being “sneaky”. Well, the actual keyword being “trying”: one night while working on it, the little of the kids found you (he couldn’t sleep) and even though you got him to promise to be quiet...well, kids are kids and he was excited about the prospect of a better PC and so he over-spoke a few days later.

“One of the conditions was ‘no access to any type of computer’...rings a bell?” Sam sighs afterwards when he’s caught up with you by the willow.

“But I stayed off the internet! Isn’t that the point?”

“No!” He pauses at his own answer. “Well, yes...but not just. A judge won’t care whether you were playing minesweeper or hacking into the Pentagon. They hear ‘computer’ and they’ll think you’ve done something else bad.”

“Bad? ’Something else bad’?!” you gasp.

“You know what I mean...” Leaning against the tree, he rubs his neck for a moment. “Listen, I know what you did was amazing and we’ve only just started dealing with it but I want to make sure that they’ve got nothing to pin on you that can weigh negatively. Makes sense?”

It does. But you miss your laptop and more importantly, you miss something to do. “But how am I supposed to prepare for anything like a trial or whatever?”

...and that’s how you ended up with musty old law books and a stack of transcripts of your own work.

...

There’s a crick in your neck and your left arm’s asleep as it’s tugged between your cheek and the book lying open on the table. Oooow. Carefully, you pull yourself free and test the joints of shoulders and elbows only to find then stiff and uncooperative. Glancing at the clock of the TV, you can see it’s almost four in the morning and reason that it probably is a good idea to go to bed. But something just woke me. Just then, a hand lands on your shoulder: light and warm, utterly scary, and making you jump in the chair.

“Sorry,” Sam says. He’s wearing a worn t-shirt and boxers and your bleary eyes are roving slowly up to his face. “Didn’t wanna scare you but uhmm maybe you should get some proper rest instead of sleeping in the books?”

“Hmmm-m,” you acknowledge with a heavy nod.

As you start to bunch the pages together, Sam stops you with a gentle hand. “Just let it be, babe.”

He guides you up to the room you’ve taken over after Barnes left for a so-called mission and it’s not until you’re lying in the bed that you realize that it’s the second time he’s called you by a nickname. An endearment at that.

“Sam?” you call out softly for him, thinking that maybe he hasn’t closed the door yet but there is no answer.

...

You don’t get to ask Sam the next day because he’s upped and left on a mission before you’re even awake, leaving you to tamper down the tight anxiety that suddenly blooms in your gut. In his place is a straight lipped agent that spends most of his time adjusting the tie of his black suit or polishing the sunglasses...that is until Sarah decides that there can’t be any freeloaders and guilt trips him into doing some of the chores that Sam normally would take care of.

One day turns into one week, one agent into a rotation of three, and you feel like screaming.

Listening to the TV or reading the newspaper is the only way for you to feel there’s a world outside your comfortable prison. You miss your computer and the availability of information and news, miss the personas you’ve come to consider as friends even though you’ve never seen them in your real life. How could you? They’re all over the world and some, though not most, have the same hunger that you have: the need to set some things right in a crooked world. But you don’t dare to go near the PC. Don’t even trust yourself to be around the boys when they’re talking about things from the online world but leave the room quietly.

The ankle monitor chafes on the humid days, making it almost unbearable to walk around with after an hour. More often than not, you spend time soaking your feet in a bucket of cold water or your legs up, hands busied with preparing something for the dinner in the evening. You need something to do. Something to keep your hands occupied now that the fingers can’t dance over the keyboard.

Mostly you need a way to avoid going crazy with worry.

“They aren’t gonna peel themselves,” Sarah’s voice calls you back to earth and you find yourself still clutching the same potato you picked up five minutes ago.

“Sorry.”

She grunts something uncommitted and disappears into the house again only to come back a bit later with a glass of ice tea. “What’s up?”

Where to start? You want to complain about your situation...but you did bring it upon yourself and you’ve almost accepted that by now. And to be fair, things could be worse. “Nothing...just bored, I guess.”

“Okay,” she nods, pushing a few stray leaves towards the edge of the porch.

Somewhere out on the road the school bus drops off two boys and you hear them laugh and yell as they rush towards the house. The current agent adjusts her tie over by the willow – far enough away not to hear a discreet chat, but close enough to keep an eye on you.

“You look the way I feel when Sam and Bucky are off,” your slightly involuntary host comments.

“I’m sorry wait what nooo,” you sputter, earning a knowing smirk.

Trust is...truth is she’s right. You worry about the guy. Guys. Definitely plural. Really, is it normal to be gone for that long? To not send any word back home that he’s okay. They are okay...they. Both of them. Not just Sam.

“I’d like to say it gets easier,” Sarah offers with a gentle smile that turns into a grimace, “but it doesn’t. I used to just have to worry about one idiot and now they’re two, riling each other up like little kids.”

Her actual kids have dropped their backpacks and are engaging in their favourite pastime activity these days: make the agent smile.

“I’m not worried about them,” you claim, heart clenching at the idea of Sam getting hurt out there somewhere.

“Sure you’re not...and I’m Oprah.”

...

You can’t sleep that night, the cicadas are too noisy and it’s too humid...and every time you do dose off, you see the charming, gap-toothed smile broken and bloodied.

Instead of wrestling with your nightmares in bed, you tiptoe out the room and past the current agent that’s nodding over their cellphone. If only I had five minutes with that thing! But no, you know better than to risk anything by swiping it.

Treading softly down the chairs, you avoid the step that creaks and make it all the way onto the porch where you plop down on the porch swing.

The air is lighter out here and lightning bugs are zigzagging underneath the trees. High above, the moon is hanging with its crescent to cast a bit of glow down on the world below but it’s not enough to create more than deep or deeper shadows.

...

You must have managed to doze off because you wake with a start at the sound of creaking. Several of the planks in the porch could use replacing and it’s on the to-do list...you just haven’t gotten around to it yet. Now it serves as an alert to the constant presence of one of the agents that have been tasked with watching you in Sam’s absence.

“Are you okay?” the agent asks in a gentle whisper.

You answer him with a nod. “Was just too stuffy indoors, y’know?”

“Be happy you’re not required to wear a suit and tie,” he sighs.

“I’m not gonna rat on you if you don’t.”

You can see him consider for a moment before the hand slowly rises to loosen the knot a few inches. “Thank you. I’ll...give you some time alone if you want it?” He doesn’t wait for verification before he slips back inside.

Lying back on the porch swing, you allow the gentle rocking to lull you back into a light sleep. It’s one that’s softened by images you adore of dark eyes with golden shimmers and wide smiles but equally twisted with the continuous nagging of what will happen later.

It’s a thought that occupies you as much as the predicament you face in general – as if it wasn’t enough to be on trial for spilling the truth a bit. But you can’t help shake the feeling that even if everything works out, you’ll still end up sad and alone. It’s not something you’ve worried about before...hell, you know you’ll still have your friends but a part of you want one specific person to be included and really, what are the odds of that?

I’m a pining idiot, you conclude, and I should know better. It’s only people in books and movies that get the happy ever after.

...  Sam   ...

It’s early morning, the sun barely peeking above the horizon, when they come home. Tired. Smelly. But happy with the result of the mission. Neither he nor Bucky have a need to say anything as they trudge down the road from where they got dropped off this time.

It’ll be good so see Sarah and the kids, Sam thinks, but it’s the image of you that floats in his mind until he pushes it away forcefully.

Hopefully Bucky’s just thinking happily about showers but the smirk on his lips says something else that Sam doesn’t want to consider all too often. So what if his sister and reluctant friend hook up? They’re adults! It’s still an odd thought though and he’s not sure who he’s the most concerned for.

A thin haze of dew is hanging in the air by the time the men reach the porch and spot the lone figure lying on the porch swing, curled up in a fetus position and hands tucked under the cheek. They stop at the sight of you but then Bucky pats his friend on the shoulder and tiptoes past, adeptly avoiding the creaky boards.

Oh man, she’s gorgeous. Sam doesn’t want to admit it, but once the thought has flashed through his brain, he can’t deny it.

Goosebumps are peppering your arms and legs that your sleepwear can’t cover completely. Somehow, you’ve managed to wrap yourself so tightly together that you only take up half of the porch swing, and he can’t help worrying that it must be from the only morning chill – although the night has been warm, the morning always lend a bit of needed refreshment – and he steps carefully over to the box with blankets, grabbing one to spread over you and as he does, he has to lean in close...close enough to smell the scent that he hadn’t realized he’s missed while he was gone.

But then the blanket is covering you and Sam has to pull away or it’d be weird. He doesn’t want weird. No...it’d have to be done right if ever...

#Sam Wilson #Accidental Partners 6 #Sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x y/n #Sam captain america wilson #fanfic #fanfiction #MCU fandom #marvel cinematic universe #MCU #writing #wip #Sam wilson love #Sam wilson series #captain america and the winter soldier #Sam wilson pining

[blueprint-han]

desert rose — yang jeongin.

↪ “ Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid. ”

— “ You’d have never thought that one incident would’ve enlightened you of how much in love you were with your childhood best friend, but it turns out to be more of a problem when you’re threatened with a life-ending disease with no cure whatsoever. Or so you thought. ”

pairing: jeongin x reader

genre: hanahaki au; fluff, angst with a happy ending.

⇥ warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of blood (not very graphic but enough that it’s tagged), lots of angst, also in this world the hanahaki surgery isn’t discovered yet, because it’s a fairly recent discovery, also y/n’s dad is nowhere mentioned in this fic idk take it as you like but i imagined him to pass away when y/n was 12 for some reason :((, please do not read if you triggered by topics of death or blood or disease! These themes will be prevalent though not in super explicit detail, they are still there. If I missed a warning, let me know. <3

word count: 11.09 K

type: long one-shot.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Yang Jeongin, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

part of: the @bystay​ skznta event, written for @stayndays​ !!

song: inspired from Desert Rose by Lolo Zouaï <3 No relation to the fic but it did inspire the ~vibes~.

↯ note: I’m gonna be honest this tired me out so much that I’m glad I finished it, it took me longer than I expected and it got longer than I expected, but nonetheless, here you go shayna! Hi!! It’s me! Your secret santa! Sorry I couldn’t send you that many asks because my uni is a bitch™, and I wish I could’ve made this better, but I guess this will have to do for now. I hope you like it, and I loved being your santa! 🥺 I hope we can interact more in the future, and this isn’t edited so pls go easy on me （＞人＜；）eiury2y4er okay happy reading! <3 love you shayna! <3 I wish I could give this more editing time :( but... i hope u still like it!  ⇥ dawn.☀️

Jeongin’s eyes are really pretty.

The first time you'd made this miniscule observation was during your summer vacation road trip when the sun shined a tad bit overly bright, and Jeongin’s umbrella had a hole in it. The exact details of how it ended up torn don’t matter, but the way Jeongin’s eyes seemed to shimmer in the harsh noon sun almost made it seem worth it.

You remember it clearly — He’d smiled brightly when his eyes met yours, eyes crinkling into tiny little half-moons before his expression turned neutral. At that moment, you were lost into the abyss that was his midnight black orbs. They seemed to hold glimmering stars in them, ones that outshone the specks of white in the night sky.

Looking back, you didn’t think of it much, opting to shake your head off it’s daze before running to where Jeongin stood, throwing a bottle of water into his backpack and laughing at some corny jokes the rest of the group cracked.

Jeongin was a friend — a good friend. In fact, you could call him your best friend, though it had never been verbalized. You couldn’t remember exactly when or how you’d gotten closer to him — it just happened, like everything important in this world did. Like how Jeongin says “It was fate, Y/N, fate” in that old-man-philosopher voice to get you to laugh (Of course it would never work, but you’d still laugh, because anything to see him give you that bright, toothy grin and that little scrunch of his nose in acknowledgement).

The memory of how it all started  is as clear as the sky, as pure as the pigment of a rose.

“Don’t stray too far away, alright? Meet me back here in two hours.” The instructor screams, and all the students chime in with a collective “Yes, ma’am!”. 

 “Good, now go collect your flowers.”

A flower-picking expedition isn’t a common event in a school field trip, at least in your school. You’re more used to the normal visits to the ice cream factory, or the butterfly park (which, to be fair, had some pretty flowers, if only you could pick them) or another affiliated school. Nevertheless, you don’t complain, because the prospect of your school giving you a chance to collect all the pretty flowers you could spot here had you on top of the clouds.

You’re allowed to go alone or in groups of two, and of course, Jeongin has you by the arm the moment your teacher had screamed “Disperse!” at the top of her lungs (P.E teachers had a thing for screaming, apparently). Ignoring the teasing glances the other boys made towards the both of you, you set sail on your path, scanning all the bushes for any wild and unique flowers you could find.

“Oh look, there’s one!” You pointed out after a good four-minute-walk, almost stumbling in your one-inch-too-tight-shoes and ignoring Jeongin’s giggle at your antics. You beckoned him over to where you were standing and he obliged, tucking his sweater paws into his pockets before walking over to where you were staring at the pretty flower.

So, flowers. They’d always fascinated you. You’d developed said fascination ever since you were six. Something about the sheer way the petals were arranged, the various ranges of coloring — vivid, gradient, muted — the beauty of something so delicate and intricate always drew you in. You found yourself examining a flower for hours, and surprisingly, you never grew tired of it. They’d helped you through a lot when you felt particularly down, too. Perfect distraction — snuggling against Jeongin’s arm and playing with the flower he’d always pick out for every visit, surrounded by calming; almost numbing silence along with the sound of his steady breathing, maybe sometimes his heartbeat too when he’d get overly affectionate. Flowers in a way, in every way, were your escape. You loved them. 

“Hmmm.” Jeongin hummed over the sounds of the leaves susurrating and rustling on the ground, the wind enveloping you like a cold, yet oddly comfortable blanket. He fixed his round glasses over his nose, quickly flipping through his encyclopedia. No one really questioned him as to why he carried it wherever he went — but just like you, he had a vivid fascination for flowers too. It was something the both of you fit like a glove on, and you were beyond grateful to meet someone who could click with you so well.

“This is wolfsbane, we can’t pick it.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s poisonous, the whole plant is.”

“Oh…” You pouted, staring at the flower once more. You took in the sight of lush, violet petals, the way they wrapped around the centre and had almost no smell.

“Hey.” He touched your hand worriedly. “You didn’t touch them, right?”

“No, I didn’t. I know better than to touch plants without knowing what they are.”

“Good.” There you could see it again. That lovely, bright smile, one more of relief this time. When you looked into his eyes, you seemed lost — you could capture every flutter of his lashes against his cheeks, count every lustrous star that was laid in his eyes. “That’s good, the poison can be absorbed easily through your skin.”

“Yeah.” You let yourself smile at him, hands dropping down to fiddle with the hem of your frock. 

“Come on, I wanna get some shots for my book. Plus some flowers.” Pulling at your hand, he led you amidst the varying degrees of green and the damp smell of grass for a good distance, before halting in front of a bush. You knew what he’s referencing to by ‘shots’. The camera that hangs around his back, ready to immortalize the memory into his SD card, or rather make a polaroid (or a painting, if he’s being artistic) and tape it to his notebook along with the pressed flower.

“Look!”

Trip a step back, and you yelp at the sudden intrusion to your pace, pouting at Jeongin before looking in the direction he had his eyes fixated on. “Roses.” You giggle, kneeling in front of the bush and hissing when you feel the damp coldness of the grassy floor seep into your knees. “They’re pretty.” 

You can barely hear the sound of students walking past you — the moment seems almost captivating — nothing heard, nothing felt except the whirring of the wind, and the fresh smell of various plants mixed together, it carries.

This part of the garden seems particularly shady and cool, and some of the roses haven’t bloomed yet. A few rosebuds, a few half-bloomed roses, and two fully bloomed, deep red roses, sitting nicely against the green foliage.

Jeongin kneels before you, and you turn to smile at him, chortling at the way his glasses are about to fall over his nose again. You ruffle his black hair gently before fixing the glasses up his nose. 

“You might wanna get a chain attached to that thing. You know those strings that go around your neck and to your glasses to hold them in place?”

Jeongin chuckles. “It’s alright. I don’t like my glasses anyways.”

“Whyyy…?” You whine, poking his arm playfully before directing your focus back on the rose. “You look so adorable with them.”

Your friend feels a smile tug at his lips, leaning in to pinch your cheeks lightly. “You’re adorable.” He says, before focusing on the rose, (thankfully) oblivious to the way your cheeks feel warm after his action.

“Here, let me pick them out and then we can press them into our journals.” Yes. The both of you have matching journals, owing to your near obsession with flowers. You oft share them with each other and get fascinated by how the other views the flower, how they delicately craft words into how the little gift of nature meant to them. It’s a heartwarming tradition — one of the main reasons you follow it till date. 

Jeongin pulls out a pair of scissors from his satchel, and albeit with a lot of force (and the adorable nose scrunch™, manages to cut off a decent amount of stem with the fully bloomed flower, carefully bringing it to his nose to smell it before doing the same to the other one. And all the while, you silently watch.

“Here, this one is more fresh.” It’s so surprising how he can just say that by looking at the flower. Then again, you know him better than anyone, so it’s not surprising at all. He looks at you with dreamy, fluttering eyes and that precious smile on his face, his hair falling perfectly on his forehead. You want to reach out and fix the stray hairs back into position, but you hold back, swallowing the lump in your throat when you look into his pretty, pretty eyes. Trying your damnedest to not get mesmerized, lost in them once again.

It doesn’t seem like a very, very special moment. And to you at that time, it wasn’t special. You simply ignored the heat that crept up your face at his silent gesture, nodding sporadically and ignoring the way you tensed up more when your fingers touched, barely.

Your heart suddenly thumped against your chest with renewed vigour, and you could tell Jeongin was close to noticing it too. 

“T-thank you, that's very sweet.” Fixing the frills of your frock, you smooth them over before looking further and deeper into the garden.

“Lend me a hand, please.”

You once again, ignore the way your heart flutters at his statement, silently extending your hand and covering up your sudden emotion with a smile. His hand feels soft, warm in your hold, fingertips slightly rough from when he used to play the violin. You like it, though.

“Here.” He places the rose carefully in your palm, making sure no thorns prick the delicate skin of your palm, and you can’t help but smile at the tiny reassurance. A nod of approval and you tuck the flower away neatly into your satchel, almost like a valuable present he’d given you, oblivious to the way Jeongin’s eyes twinkled at your action, his smile beaming.

My god, who would’ve known this flower could’ve brought you so, so much trouble?

It had started simple, almost unnoticeable. Just little glances towards Jeongin when he’d come over to watch a movie, getting lost in the way his hair looked exceptionally soft to touch, silently drifting off into space as you admired him from the backseat during class — sure, you were supposed to be focusing on the lesson and taking notes, but something about the way the rim of Jeongin’s sunglasses caught the sunlight and created a lens flare effect was breathtaking to watch.

That, combined with his beauty, his personality. It was too much, too much to handle.

You found yourself waiting to get a glimpse of him, even a tiny glance of his smile would be enough to make your day — to make your heart flutter. 

He was pretty.

You suppose it’s because being Jeongin’s best friend meant you already knew about the kind and empathetic man he was — but for the love of god, you could not stop your heart from fluttering when you heard his name, let alone looked at him and his mind-numbingly pretty smile, his dazzling eyes that always seemed to keep you off the ground.

Oh my, was this love?

You didn’t believe it. You didn’t agree, couldn’t accept that this was love. Maybe it was just your way of showing appreciation for him, for everything he’d done for you? Yes. That was probably it. 

Love wasn’t something you’d experienced — how could you jump to the conclusion? 

But you couldn’t pin the feeling you were feeling to another word — though you were desperate. The way your heart beat faster around him, the way you started noticing all the tiny details that made you fall for him even more, and for what? Just because he happened to give you a fresher, more lusciously colored rose after choosing them on his own? 

Jeongin had noticed it too — it was hard not to when you’d start fiddling with your thumbs, twirling your hair, and the way heat would rush to your face when he did as little as smile at you — you’d fallen for him — and while he was ever-the-oblivious to realise the implications of your actions, he did know that something was wrong.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Jeongin asks rather dully, seeming kind of worried about your current state. You’re resting your head against his lap, but Jeongin can feel the warmth of your cheek through the thin material of his shorts — and not the regular kind. The kind of heat one would radiate when they’d either been overly flustered. Or possibly a fever.

He rests a single palm against your cheek and your eyes flutter shut, and there it is again. The butterflies in your stomach, the fuzzies in your head, and the tingling that shot up to your fingertips. “Are you sick? Is that why you’re oddly quiet today? You haven’t said or eaten anything.”

“Ah, no, I’m alright.” You try to hide the dizziness in your voice, snuggling in his hold before fluttering your eyes close. Thankfully, Jeongin doesn’t question it. 

“Alright, we won’t talk about it if you don’t want to.” Even though you aren’t facing him right now, you can feel him smile in melancholy. 

“Hey Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

Oh, you knew.

Sometimes you wish you didn’t — maybe that would’ve prevented it from ending this way.

It’s such a common scenario — in movies, in books, in media. Two best friends falling in love with each other, confessing their love in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over gentle touches and lingering kisses. You’ve always had an attachment to those kinds of movies or books — because for you, that kind of love was special in it’s own way.

Those little ways the lead characters had of showing each other their undying love, those subtle acts were so special, so special in their own way. Those books had shown you how heartwarming, how vulnerable yet rigid, strong that relationship could be. It was such a pretty world to explore, to fantasize. You kind of felt that you and Jeongin were the protagonists of those books, those movies.

Except, you had no happy ending.

The books failed to show how painful it was to swallow, to digest the fact that you could be nothing more than friends. Sure, there had been some moments where the main leads would be sad, but it was nothing compared to this, this suffocation in your chest that slowly built up, day by day, minute by minute, second by second.

It was hard.

The first prick in your chest hadn’t been entirely painful. It was barely noticeable even. Simply a tiny jolt of pain when you bent forward to grab your books from your locker. It had only been a slight jab, like when you’d accidentally poke yourself in the rib with the edge of your hardcover diary while picking it up. Nothing too hard.

Then came the slight feeling of breathlessness. You found yourself unable to run a full round in P.E (when you could easily do so beforehand), having to stop in between to catch your breath. You figured it could’ve been your dust allergy because the P.E room wasn’t cleaned that often, so it made sense. Somewhat. Still sceptical, but nonetheless, you covered up your random outbursts of coughs with any and every excuse you could find when your parents questioned you about it.

It was hard, but you figured it was just a matter of winter passing by, and soon you’d be alright.

Would you, though? You couldn’t bring yourself to accept that there was in fact something wrong happening to you, pushing behind that feeling of paranoia every time with a smile on your face and a hold of your breath, wishing for the pain to ebb away.

Who would’ve thought that a sudden infatuation would have led to your demise?

Jeongin can hear the noises.

Those loud, dragged out wisps of air that you borderline struggle to take in and expel out, Jeongin can hear them.

He can feel your struggle. It’s not easy for him to look at you like this, curled up into a ball and ignoring the rampant burn in your chest. The movie isn’t even the main focus right now. Jeongin has something to say, and he’s had enough of watching you struggle. He’s rather here to persuade you to go to the fucking doctor, and get some sort of diagnosis instead of beating around the bush.

Strange. Jeongin feels oddly affectionate today, when usually you’re the one to initiate such gestures. All he wants to do is pull you into his arms and rock you back and forth until you fall asleep, because you seriously seem like you need it.

“Y/N,” he calls, watching you lift your head up from where it’s rested against your knees. You don’t reply, because right now, your throat seems like a barren desert and all you can seem to let out is a croak.

Jeongin sighs and rolls his eyes as if in deep thought, turning on the couch to face you before touching the tops of your cheeks with his hands — they seem overly feverous. 

“What’s going on?” He asks sternly.

“What d-do you mean?” You manage to get out, feeling your chest hurt more and more with each syllable that leaves past your lips in a croaked voice. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing your chest with the sharp edge of the knife, the burn in your throat and lungs getting too much to handle. You can’t even tear your focus from the fiery sensation to revel in the feeling of Jeongin’s soft palms cupping your cheeks.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting weird ever since the expedition.” Worry is laced throughout his tone, mixed in with a dash of sorrow to give rise to the most heartbreaking sound you’ve ever heard. Though you know otherwise, it almost seems as though Jeongin is disappointed in you.

“You’ve been getting more and more sick—” he raises a hand to stop you from contradicting his statement. You only look at him with mellow eyes, knowing that what he says is right. You’ve been ignoring your health for too long. 

You can’t help it, either. While you have an inkling of what might’ve happened, you’re too stubborn to accept it, let along your unrequited love for your best friend, who seems ever-the-oblivious.

“—and you can’t tell me it’s the winter allergy, love. I know you more than that to believe it.”

Shaking your head in dismay, you turn around to get up. You can’t be having this conversation right now, not with the faintest taste of blood lingering at the edge of your throat — you can’t be showing yourself like this in front of him — broken down, vulnerable, confused of your own feelings, having no idea of what you should be doing.

Your mother had pointed it out too, at this point. They suggested going to the doctor, and you outright refused. You didn’t want your suspicion to come to life. It couldn’t- it couldn’t be this way-

“Y/N!”

Jeongin grabs your hands to stop you in your position and turns you around.

And that’s a wrong move.

Your whole chest tightens, and the thorns that stab against your chest has never been more painful. You cry out loudly, only causing them to dig deeper into your skin and almost bleed. Jeongin’s eyes widen in shock at your sudden, unexpected reaction and only tightens his grasp on your hands.

Which again, is a very wrong move, because the following bouts of coughs that take over you shake you up from the core. Jeongin feels blanked out looking at how much you’re suffering right now, so much that he doesn’t feel the wet, yet light flutter on the back of his hand.

When Jeongin snaps back in from his momentary daze, he’s borderline horrified.

He’s convinced, completely certain that there’s nothing more terrifying, heartbreaking, scarring — he could go on and on — than what he just saw. He can almost feel his heart break into a million tiny shards, but he knows that it’s nowhere equivalent to the pain you’re going through.

Well, looks like your suspicion did come to life.

Because what Jeongin sees is, gah, he feels horrified. There’s blood dripping down your lip, staining the skin below garnet red. Your eyes are tinted pinkish-red too, most likely from the exertion that came along with the horrendous amount of coughs that took over you.

Red, red everywhere. Jeongin had previously thought of red as one of the most beautiful, and most interesting colors ever — a symbolism of love, nothing but the pure love he felt towards you.

But now, all he could think of was how much he was tormented by the mere sight of the color.

When his eyes, still blown wide in shock, trail down to his lap, the mere sight of what’s littered on it leaves him in tears.

Red petals, everywhere. All over the back of his hands, all over your lap, all over his lap.

Jeongin could probably spend ages, ages sobbing and whimpering about the sheer pain the sight in front of him brought. It tormented him beyond imagination. This should be a dream — Jeongin wants to wake up any second now, anywhere, in your lap, in his own bed, just anything to save his heart from seeing you this way.

Yet when you cough again, the pain in his heart tells otherwise.

“Y/N!” He chokes out a cry, and from there, he acts quick. He could cry about this later — he needs to find you some help, and now. 

You feel numb. As numb as you possibly can when you see the tears in Jeongin’s eyes, though your sight is clouded by your own tears. You’re numb to the blood dripping down your chin and pooling in your lap, you’re numb to the feeling of those bloody petals littered all over the couch. 

“We need to get you to the hospital, quick.” He gets up, wiping his eyes that are surprisingly, surprisingly overflowing with tears. You barely feel the handkerchief quickly wiping against your mouth, causing you to snap from your trance and look at him. The numbness doesn’t fade yet.

You doubt it ever will.

You’re not sure that the events after the incident go super quickly or as slow as a snail, and you’re not in any state to care about it either. Jeongin had called your mother when he drove you to the hospital — albeit over the sound of your repetitive and raucous coughs — and now your mom’s standing next to him outside, nervously prancing back and forth as he waits for the doctors to come out.

The hospital corridor is moderately lit — perfect setting for Jeongin’s mood right now. There’s no sound except for the occasional encounter when a nurse or doctor happens to walk past them. The hanahaki treatment section of the hospital isn’t the most crowded place — surprisingly enough, the doctors had immediately known what had happened to you.

Your mother can’t bring herself to thank Jeongin for dragging you to the hospital — she’s too paranoid. Your daughter coughing up blood and — Jeongin hadn’t mentioned it to her — flower petals over a movie night isn't the best news you’d want to receive when her friend calls you; so Jeongin understands why your mother is overly quiet.

He doesn’t try to reassure her either. It’s hard to do so when she’s gonna find out her daughter houses a wedding bouquet in her chest — and Jeongin isn’t that oblivious to not know what’s going on, especially standing in the hanahaki department of the clinic. His mother, not so much. All she can do is silently sob and mutter prayers repeatedly, hoping her daughter would be alright. Jeongin feels his heart break more when he sees your mom like this, and he knows he’s not gonna last at this rate, when he’s allowed to enter your room.

At this point, he can’t get past his own brain screaming a million different things at the same time, none of them coherent enough to make sense. He’s a mess right now — red eyes puffy and swollen, hair completely disheveled and half of his sweatshirt hanging out of where it was  neatly tucked in.

Two hands at his heart, and that’s when he notices the red rose petal stuck to the back of his hand, probably from when you’d coughed all over it. It’s fairly large in size — Jeongin examines it, in a slightly successful attempt at trying to distract from the feeling of anxiety that builds up inside bit by bit. It’s a deep, dark red color, exactly like the rose he’d given you that day, at the trip.

The boy sighs to himself before pulling the petal off his hand, eyes widening when the blood underneath it tints the skin it runs across. 

That’s when a lump forms in his throat, but he isn’t given time to cry, because soon enough, the sound of a door opening clicks through his ears, and Jeongin’s head snaps up.

He can see you from where he’s standing, and his whole world freezes in front of his eyes.

The flowers inside your chest had grown moderately large — that’s what the doctor said, at least. You’d been hiding your disease for two months, and it wasn’t until the end that Jeongin caught on — you’d been too stubborn to accept your fate. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end, after all. 

You couldn’t accept it then, but you did now. Did it seriously make a difference?

Jeongin had seen your scan, and what he saw would’ve truly been pretty, if not for the fact that these flowers could be the cause for your imminent death. The roses had almost fully bloomed — and the thorns were pricklier than ever. Jeongin could almost feel them stab against his skin, and he didn’t even have the disease. It was confusing — things were too confusing right now.

You couldn’t speak much, the painkillers you were on were making you drowsy and causing you to quickly fall asleep. Even if you weren’t asleep, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Numbness ran through your veins. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything after what had happened.

Jeongin and your mother hadn’t spoken to you after the doctor had shown them your scan, and they preferred to not break the news to you either, figuring that you were pretty shaken up from the incident already.

The doctor said he could give you two weeks before the flowers filled your lungs completely and blocked your throat.

And Jeongin is devastated.

When the effect of your painkillers wear off and you open your eyes, you feel a soft sensation brushing against your thumb, slowly turning to look at your best friend — tears streaked all over his face, eyes ridden with dark circles and red and puffy, his voice sounded nasal as he silently cried, eyesight focused on the floor.

“J-Jeongin…?” You mumble past your oxygen mask, surprisingly not noticing it’s presence until right now,

He perks up at the painful call, lifting his head to gaze into your eyes. He looks worse than you look right now, if you’re to be honest. You doubt he’s even brushed his teeth or had breakfast. The hospital room is pretty dim just like the exterior, but the sunlight coming from the open window is enough to light up the whole room, enough to at least see your friend’s features clearly.

“You’re awake.” he says as a matter-of-fact and you nod, gently taking off the contraption placed against your nose. Jeongin flinches like he wants to stop you. But then freezes when you try to slowly get up.

Turns out that’s a wrong move, because you can soon feel the thorns of the garden you have in your lungs prick against your skin, making you gasp and shriek in agony. Jeongin jerks up and places a hand on your back, and the other across your stomach — and gently maneuvers you into an awkward but comfortable position, before lifting the top of the bed into a reclining position before laying you down onto it.

“Careful, love.”

Your chest tightens at the actions once again, yet you try not to cough like you did the last time. Surprisingly biting on your tongue works to rid the feeling of suffocation, or at least distracts from it.

“Where’s m-mom?”

“She went to pick up some of your essentials, plus a few clothes.”

“D-did she eat? Did you eat?”

Jeongin smiles at your concern. It’s something he’s found endearing about you — how you always seem to put others first, even though you’re in a worse situation. Though the habit isn’t healthy, Jeongin can’t seem to get over how thoughtful one would have to be to act that way all the time. You’re so innocent, so kind — you’re one of a kind, at least for him.

“What?” You chuckle, noticing Jeongin’s lingering stare on you.

Your friend only beams, taking your hand in his once again. “I forced her to eat something because of her medication, so you don’t have to worry. I ate along with her too, though the canteen’s food doesn’t taste that well.” 

A soft giggle leaves your lips and quickly morphs into a set of coughs, more petals fluttering all over your lap and hands. When Jeongin stands up to call a doctor, you lift a hand to stop him, gesturing for him to sit down.

It isn’t as intense as the first time, but there’s still a tiny bit of blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, which Jeongin quickly goes to wipe off with his thumb. You flinch at the warm touch, sighing to yourself before dropping your gaze to your lap.

“So…” You start. “What did the doctor say?”

“What?”

Jeongin seems visibly tense at your question, kind of like he was dreading it. Which he was. He knows enough about this to know that patients usually don’t like knowing, and in fact can be traumatised by knowing that their apparent death would be in two weeks.

Jeongin in fact has no idea how he’s so calm. He should be sobbing, trashing, looking for a way to hold you back. He shouldn’t be so calm.

He figures he’s just accepted fate. He’s relishing what could be his last moments with you.

You don’t reply, and Jeongin knows he’ll have to make something up.

“They said it’s just a regular allerg-”

“Jeongin.”

The boy freezes.

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is laid with so much pain, Jeongin wants to reach out and crush every problem you have into his fist. He wants all your sorrow and worry to dissolve, and right now, he just feels helpless. He feels powerless.

“How many days do I have left?” You ask, sniffling before wiping your tears away. “Just tell me already, Jeongin-”

Jeongin’s grip tightens against your hand as he whispers — “Two weeks.” 

The words are only let out as a soft mumble, as though Jeongin himself is questioning the statement the doctors put forth. Really, in two weeks? Would you really be gone? Would he seriously never see more of your smiles, your loving gaze, those times when you’d get overly shy of his compliments, those times when you’d silently smile at him from afar?

Was this the end?

“Two weeks.” You repeat. Your voice honestly sounds like a croaking frog, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“Hey Y/N…?” Jeongin hesitantly calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” He puts his other hand on yours. “Two questions, actually.”

“Mhm?”

“This disease you have… hana-”

“Hanahaki.”

“Yeah, that.” A hand runs against the back of his neck and he continues. “Be honest, did you know that- that you had this disease before I found out?”

“Jeongin…” You’re about to shake your head, but then you remember the deadline. The deadline by which, you’re no longer going to be here, no longer going to be able to cuddle Jeongin during movie dates, no longer be able to even look at him from afar, or close for that matter. In other words, you didn’t want to end your days with him based on a lie.

Therefore you sigh, breathing out a ‘yes’ as your shoulders droop down.

You can hear Jeongin’s shaky sigh too.

“W-why?” He clenches your hand tightly, sadness mixing in with what you can only call disappointment. “How could you be so selfish?”

It's too late to take back those words now.

“Wh-what?” You raise your eyebrows, feeling scared at his sudden question. “Jeongin, I wanted to be sure-”

Oh who are you kidding? Jeongin and you both know that you’d hidden it because you didn’t want to accept it. It’s too late to change that now.

And Jeongin seems to know that too.

“Don’t- Y/N.” His breath morphs into sharp inhales, as though he’s downright angry at your actions — you know he has every reason to be — still, it doesn’t ease the pain in your heart. Or maybe that’s just the flowers.

“Do you think this is a joke?” His sobs grow louder in fervour, and you feel yourself break at the sight. The room is so, so quiet that you can hear his faint mumbles. You can hear the cries his heart screams in agony, letting you go is painful for him. The thought, rather the sound, only makes the plant in your heart grow further.

“Y/N- did you not think of your mother? Of me? Did you not think of what would have happened if you left us? You think it’s gonna be easy on the both of us? On everyone?” His gaze stern and his voice stable, you don’t get affected by his words, but you do understand what he means — and maybe wish that you could’ve reversed your actions.

“How could you, Y/N?” He gets up from where he’s seated beside your hospital bed. “How could you think that this would be the most appropriate action?”

Jeongin knows he’s angry. Jeongin knows you’re going through a lot. But he’s too.

He’s not angry at you, not at himself, but fate. He’s mad that this is your fate, that you have to go away so soon. He’s mad that he can’t do anything to help you, in any manner.

You don’t say a word, which only causes Jeongin to sigh — disappointedly, again — and walk to where his coat is hung against the edge of his bed, picking it off and pulling it over him in a hurry. Every cell in you wants to scream at him, apologize for what you did, but your voice feels small, almost like you can’t force it out of your throat.

He goes towards the door that leads to the corridor, stopping for a second before turning to look at you.

“Are you gonna tell me, at least, who this person is?”

“W-what?” Things are too confusing right now.

“Hanahaki comes with unrequited love, Y/N. Are you gonna tell me who didn’t return your love?”

“You didn’t” You want to say. But then again, you stay quiet, not being able to handle the intensity of the moment.

Jeongin wants for two seconds, then sighs and shakes his head. “Whatever, I guess.”

And then he leaves.

In the next week, your health goes down drastically. More of petals expelled out of your lungs, more blood dripping from between your lips, more of your mother’s horrified expression as she runs away from the room while the doctors tend to your coughs. More sobs from your mother when she thinks you’re asleep, more melancholic smiles when you’re awake.

But you feel so empty.

Every piece of you feels like it’s being ripped apart. You can’t even sit up without someone’s help, of such intensity is the pain. The pain of knowing that your love would never be returned. 

The pain of knowing that you hurt the person you loved truly.

You were put on your oxygen mask 24/7, and instructed to not take it off whatsoever. Your medication stopped taking it’s usual effect, and if anyone saw you the way you were outside the current circumstances, they’d have assumed that you haven't slept for 8 days and were going to crumble into the earth any second.

“Honey?”

You gasp at the sudden intrusion to your thoughts, turning around to see your mother, sitting next to you and holding your hand with her own. You hum as a response, clearly unable to respond more than a mere mumble.

“Did you and Jeongin fight?”

A pang of guilt floods through your nerves at the mention of your friend’s name. He’d come to visit you only once in the past week. Perhaps even he couldn’t handle the fact that your death certificate was ready to be signed soon, and was trying to not be tormented by the fact. Or perhaps he was just angry.

“W-why?” You croak.

“I convinced him to come stay here while I go pick up a fresh change of clothes, but it took me quite a bit of arguing.”

You feel sad for her. She’s clearly paranoid — you can hear it in her voice, the shake lingers throughout. Yet she holds it in, trying not to let you worry about it.

You don’t answer her question. The last thing you need is for her to get mad at you too, though you doubt it. Your mom has never been the kind to yell at you for anything — provided, you’ve never given her a reason either.

“Do you think he’s mad because I didn’t tell him about the person who didn’t return m-my l-lo-ve…?” your throat goes dry towards the end and your mother quickly hands you a glass of water. You chug it down and sigh in relief, breath still short.

“Is that person him?” Your mother questions with her gentle, soothing voice one that can make you relax on the first listen. There’s no use lying to her, you figure. She knows you too well to do that, plus, like you said, you couldn’t bring yourself to end your days with her on a lie.

“Yeah…”

“Oh sweetheart,” She brushes some of your hair off your face, sitting down again before drumming her fingers against the back of your hand gently. “I don’t think he could be mad at you.”

“But he is. Didn’t y-you see? He didn’t bother to meet me as much after our argument. He’c c-clearly mad.”

“Hmmm,” Your mother ponders. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I have known him for a while, dear. He’s been with you for more than five years. Maybe he’s having trouble taking this in? Just like…” Your mother stops after that, but you know the completion.

Just like her.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

You simply don’t get it. You should be scared. You should be sad and devastated that your end was going to come soon.  You should be thrashing around and crying and wailing in despair — you just don’t have  the energy to even bother about your end. It’s depressing, but you know there’s no way you could avoid the inevitable, or get your lover to return your love.

Love wasn’t supposed to be something forced, it had to happen naturally. And if Jeongin didn’t develop it naturally, you just had to learn to live with it. Or not.

“Don’t be, darling. Everyone deserves to love, just like how they deserve it back. I wish it could’ve ended differently.”

“It’s alright mom. He loves me too… just not on the way I love him.”

You sniffle as a single tear runs down your chin, though you and your mom aren’t given enough time to speak more when you hear a familiar voice at the door. 

“Hey Mrs. L/N.” Jeongin says, shrugging off his half snow-covered coat before hanging it onto the bedside. Did he seriously walk in the snow? All the way here?

“Hello, Jeongin dear.” Your mother stands up, picking her coat before moving to fish the car keys from her purse. “Thank you for watching over Y/N while I’m gone, darling.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. L/N.”

“Oh, so formal.” Your mom chuckles, though in her despaired state. “Y/N, you get some sleep, it’s about midnight dear.” She leans over to kiss your forehead while Jeongin excuses himself to the washroom, and you nod. 

“Good night mom.”

“Good night, and don’t worry about him. He’ll talk to you eventually.”

Oh, how reassuring. “Mhm.” You smile, closing your eyes to drift into slumber before Jeongin returns, because the last thing you need right now is to feel sad and cry over how you’d hurt him.

By the time the sound of the door clicking resounds through the space, you’re already asleep.

 It’s way past midnight. Jeongin shouldn’t be up. 

Somehow, he still finds himself seated next to your bed, staring fondly at your calm features as you finally get the rest you’ve needed for the past few days. 

Oh, he wouldn’t be able to compare your sheer beauty to even that of the moon; even when you’re in such a fragile and vulnerable state. Your eyelashes are still and unmoving where they sit against your skin, your breath is calm and slightly wavering as you struggle to breathe slightly. 

His hand slips into your own gently, and his heart melts when you shift, tightening your grasp on his warm skin before falling into a slumber again.

Why was he mad in the first place? Jeongin feels dumb for acting so quickly on his emotions, especially when you’re in a bad place at the moment. He wants to wake you up and apologize, but he can’t, because you’re sound asleep — and that’s a good thing, since seep comes so scarcely to you these days.

Then, a single tear falls from his eyes. His thoughts traverse to the dream he had the previous night — you, cold, dead in his arms. Him, sobbing, trying to wake you up but you’re really gone. He can’t even hear your mother’s cries from behind him, because he’s devastated to know that you’ve left him. The dream had woken him up in a cold sweat — it was then he realised that he’d committed a mistake, and agreed to come visit you, because you had about 5 days left.

His thoughts then traverse to the conversation you had with your mother, while he was standing outside in the cold hospital corridor, curiously listening.

“Is that person him?” “Yeah…”

When he heard those words, countess, infinite thoughts crashed at his head; all at once. Nothing made any sense. The reality of the situation was dawning on him too quickly, and Jeongin was having a hard time processing it. 

You loved him? He was the person who didn’t return your love?

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He mumbles in confusion — so much confusion, so much hurt — he wanted time to just stop for awhile and give him a fair chance to analyze the situation.

But, once all the initial thoughts were out of the way, only one question remained:

Was he the reason you were going to die?

Jeongin felt like a murderer — like he’d just stabbed you in cold blood. He knows it is’t like that — just like you’d said, love should come natural. So why did Jeongin feel so bad? WHy did he feel like he was the one at fault?

A fond smile crosses his lips when he remembers the book where you keep all your flowers safely. Who would have thought your fondness for flowers would morph into the reason for your demise?

Quiet, hushed in the midnight wind, Jeongin gently brings out the rose he’d picked from his satchel. It’s almost relieving to see a rose in it’s true glory, without scattered petals or blood covering the flower. A part of him grows sad that you won’t be able to gush over flowers together anymore, he won’t be able to see your smile anymore. It hurts him. It stabs his heart over and over again, and Jeongin is pained — almost like he’s being put to death slowly — he wants the pain to end, but only suffers and suffers.

The stem has already been cut and the thorns have been thrown out. Jeongin leans over to tuck the flower behind your ear, fingers brushing against the almost cold skin at the back of your ear before letting another tear slip from his eye, running down his cheek and falling on your palm.

A strange, oh-so-strange feeling creeps up on him. It’s like… a fluttering in his heart? Jeongin can’t quite place it — heck, he doesn’t try to make sense of it. There are more important things to look at, right now. He suddenly has the urge to pull you into his arms and gently murmur sweet words into your ear — seems odd for a situation like this, but oh well, feelings are feelings.

He pats your hand gently and smiles, before moving to sleep on the smaller bed in front of your own. Not allowed to go far, though, because your grip on his hands tighten almost immediately, and Jeongin tightens to look into your eyes, sparkly and slightly droopy from the intrusion of sleep.

“Y/N, go to-”

“Stay.” You mumble, feeling your voice choke as the petals threaten to spill out for what seems like the millionth time. Yet, you manage to spill out another, “Please?”

Jeongin feels like he’s about to cry. Your expression is so, so hopeful, he can’t bring himself to deny. He wouldn’t in the first place, because who was he to deny what could be his friend’s last wish?

A sob bubbles up his throat, but he swallows it down, smiling with melancholy before following your weak pull on his hand, genty climbing on your bed before slotting himself between you and the steel grill that prevented patients from falling down. He gently tucks his hand under you and pulls you close to himself, tensing up for a second when you wrap an arm around his own, gently rubbing on it before drifting off to sleep. You want to cherish this moment — this could be the last time before you could never see him again. Fuck your medication for making you so drowsy. Or not, because you were certain you would start crying, and that would certainly not end well.

The whole room falls silent for two seconds, and you fall asleep almost immediately. 

And then, Jeongin releases all his tears, and everything comes crashing down on him. He breaks apart.

The world was too cruel to you. He was cruel to you. He can’t believe that in less than a week, you’d be gone. Gone from earth. Flowers had lost all their beauty for him, the moment he saw you coughing them up on that couch during movie night.

He wanted to do anything. He wanted any small sign to show that you would stay with him. He was in so much pain, he couldn’t accept your fate. He wanted to grab your hand and pull you to himself, keep you close, he couldn’t let go, he couldn’t give you up, he couldn’t —

“I love you.” You mumble unconsciously in your sleep, and Jeongin loses it then and there. His throat feels dry as tears flow and flow and don’t cease no matter what. His body shakes like a sobbing child, but thankfully you’re knocked out from the effect of your medication. He hasn’t cried this hard in a while, guess there’s a first time for everything. The three words pierce his heart, and they suddenly hold more meaning than anything — Jeongin wants to hear those words on a loop; he feels strangely ecstatic when you say them.

And so, with a shaky voice and a sorrowful tone, Jeongin replies after pressing a kiss to your forehead — “I-I love you, t-too.”

His eyes flutter shut and he basks in your arms just one last time, holding you close to himself as he finally, finally finds himself at peace, next to you.

When your mother finds you both snuggled up and asleep together, a smile crosses her lips. A hopeful smile.

“Are you ready for your scan, Y/N?”

You feel oddly light today — one would say it’s because your body was close to shutting down completely, but your throat felt a bit, a tiny bit clearer and less barren than a fucking desert. Nevertheless, the scan does make you nervous. This would make clear how long the flowers would take to reach your throat — the doctor’s estimation was about three days, which seemed way too short for Jeongin.

Oh, how embarrassing it was when the nurses, all giggly and mushy-eyed, found you snuggled with Jeongin like a teddy bear at the early hours of the morning, waking you and Jeongin up and only cracking up more at your bewildered expressions when you find yourself tangled with each other.

Before the scan, Jeongin had held your hand softly, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. You’d shyly smiled, nodding before letting the nurse drag you to the scanning room.

The details of the scan itself aren’t important, it went pretty well — as decent as a scan could possibly go. You’re able to cooperate with your nurses pretty feasibly, you feel the sudden urge to get out of your wheelchair and try walking. Sure, you can still feel the choked feeling in your throat and the burn in your lungs, but somehow, it’s just a tiny bit lesser than usual. Maybe it’s because your painkillers are working more effectively. Maybe.

Jeongin’s waiting for you outside when you’re led out of the room, and he smiles when he sees you.

You don’t even remember what you’d said the previous night. All you remember was passing out while Jeongin was in the washroom, and then waking up to him cuddled up, warm and snug next to you. His features were clear and calm as the ocean on a sunny day, a small smile on his lips, as though he was dreaming about something happy. You hope he did, because that boy deserves the happiness.

“You seem energetic today.” Jeongin says, taking note of your perky demeanour, that only causes you to giggle slightly. 

Sure, you don’t remember the happenings of last night, but he does — and he’d promised himself to cherish every last second. Because in the end, it’s all he can do — for leading you to this state, for getting mad at you and wasting precious time in which he could’ve stayed with you. He’d promised to not let you live your last moment sad and desolated.

“I feel light, for some reason.” You mumble with a broken voice as Jeongin takes the wheelchair from the nurse, listening to what she has to say before bowing and nodding, leading you back to your room.

“What did she say?” You ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“She said your scan results would come in an hour.” 

“Oh… alright.”

For some reason, you’re too joyous today, after the little surprise you got as soon as your eyes opened. You can’t seem to bother about the end— you want to live in this moment, right now.

When you come back to the room, Jeongin lifts you up bridal style, causing you to gasp before placing you down onto the bed. The nurse waiting there quickly fixes your IV and helps you sit into a comfortable position (though it’s hard when thorns keep pricking at your ribs) before bowing to the both of you, and leaving.

Your mother has once again left to go fix up the house, leaving you in the trust of your best friend. You aren’t complaining though, especially when Jeongin sits down beside your bed, taking your hand in his before playing with your nimble fingers — just like always.

He looks gorgeous today. After a lot of nagging from your mother, he’d used the hospital bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair neatly, and you’re happy about that because he looks fresher and happier than ever. You want him to be smiling and happy, even when you leave, because… did you need a reason? You just wanted him to be happy and content with his life.

The thought invokes an angsty feeling of melancholy, but you brush it away, trying to focus on Jeongin and the silence that drops on the both of you like a warm blanket. You smile softly at him, gently letting go of his hand before tucking a few strands of his hair behind his ear, almost melting when Jeongin’s eyes flutter close.

“Hey Jeongin?” You call, grabbing his hand once again and interlacing the fingers together.

“Yeah?”

“When I… leave,” You notice the twitch in his expression, but nonetheless, continue. “Will you bring me flowers every week?” 

You remember the red rose you’d found tucked behind your ear when you woke up — it had dried up a bit, but nonetheless, it was one of the prettiest objects you’d ever seen — even though there was a whole bouquet of them spewing out your mouth every two seconds.

“I will.” Jeongin sniffles. The thought of having to visit your grave every week to bring you flowers is immensely saddening, but Jeongin agrees anyways. He agrees, for you.

It’s the least he can do.

It’s funny how you say “leave”, like you’re going to your hometown for a month-long vacation and not actually like you’re going to be buried any time soon. Jeongin thinks it’s because you don’t want him to get too sad over his loss — a stupid thing to wish — Jeongin knows this loss is going to affect him in more ways than one.

“Jeongin, d-don’t cry…” You cup his cheek, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek and wiping away the tears that fall, one by one. Jeongin shakes his head, placing his palm on your hand and smiling at you.

“Can you do me another favor?”

“As many as you’d like Y/N.” He says. He’ll do anything you want — it’s your last wish after all.

“Bury me with my flower journal, please?” It may seem like a weird claim to bury oneself with a dusty old book, but Jeongin understands the significance — you want to hold onto those memories you made with him while writing it together, while picking flowers together and all those happy moments you exchanged.

Jeongin tries not to let his voice break again. “I will.”

You beam at his acceptance. Jeongin feels the slight thump of his heart against his chest, and a warm feeling envelopes him from inside. He’s suddenly overcome with an urge to press delicate kisses on your eyelids, though he tries to shoo it away, because it isn’t the main point of focus right now.

But soon your mother walks in, and it’s all small talk and deep conversations with her at the same time. You have breakfast, persuade (more like force) Jeongin to scarf down his meal and giggle about some random jokes thrown here and there, until the doctor comes in. Both Jeongin and your mother stand up, bowing and wishing good morning while you do too. Wish, not stand up. You’re basically tied to the bed at this point.

“Mrs L/N, I’d have had a word with you in private, but I think Miss Y/N needs to hear this too.” 

“What is it, doctor?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and Jeongin’s grip on your hand tightens, thumb rubbing over your skin to soothe your obvious tension. The doctor slides the transparent, firm sheet off it’s envelope before letting the sunlight hit the back of it, in order to enable a clearer viewing.

“This is… the most unusual case I’ve ever seen, but —” He points to a junction on the scan. “The flowers have actually reduced in amount, and they've separated from the windpipe by a whole two inches. See?” He points at the edges of the lungs and at the windpipe, but you understand what he means. The flowers are there, no doubt, but it’s almost like — a whole stem of them just disappeared into thin air.

Of course this could’ve been because you coughed them up, but the coughed up flowers go instantly, or so you’ve heard. There’s confusion written on all of your faces right now.

“Is that why I was feeling lighter and easier to breathe today? Because the flowers withered off and gave more space for air?” You ask in your low voice, and your doctor nods.

“Seems like it. Do you have your previous scan?” Your mother hands it to him quickly after a great deal of fishing out of her purse.

He places the earlier scan behind the newer one, and suddenly, you can see what he means. It’s almost like they shrunk — you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but nonetheless, you’re happy you can breathe a bit more.

“What does this mean, though?” Jeongin asks, bewildered at the strange news. The room is so quiet and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, and you can see both your mother and Jeongin waiting for the doctor’s words.

“It means that we’ll take another scan tomorrow, a deeper one. And check if the flowers are actually collecting somewhere else, or just disappearing. And if they are disappearing…” He trails off, and you giggle when Jeongin and your mother lean forward in anticipation, though curious yourself.

“She’ll be home by Christmas. Or even earlier, if the recovery speed is fast.”

“Y-You mean… I can be cured?” Your voice shakes with hope, and the doctor smiles sweetly at you, before nodding.

“Yes dear, you’ll be the first patient who’s walked out of this place cured from hanahaki.”

At that moment, it almost feels like every flower inside your chest wilts out — you feel so light, so ecstatic. You’re over the clouds at the news, and don’t even hear your mother’s cries of thankfulness before the doctor heads out.

“Y/N!” Jeongin exclaims, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his heart and the burn in his cheeks when he cups your own. “You’re gonna come home!”

You shake with soft sobs, and smile at Jeongin.

“I’m gonna come home.” Provided the scan tomorrow showed a positive result, but you don’t bother to mention that part.

And the next day, when your scan results come back, a huge smile adorns your face, and your mother is in tears. Happy tears.

The sunshine is overly bright today, leaving you squinting for sight, especially when you’re seated in a garden out in the open, book in one hand and the other one resting against the cool, moist grass. The air holds a musky forest scent, and you revel in the feeling of the shivers the cold air that cuts through skin brings.

The park is relatively empty for the morning — you’re glad it is, because it brings on a sense of calmness that you seem to like. The surroundings are just perfect — you don’t want anyone to disrupt your mood right now.

So yeah. The story ends that way. You recover, bit by bit, though it takes a whole bunch of time. There were times when you still had to cough out those petals, but you couldn’t be happier — it felt as though you were spitting out those vicious thorns that had tormented and threatened your life. The doctors had no idea how you’d managed to recover — but this was an interesting case to put into their portfolio, so they weren’t complaining.

And oh, you had Jeongin to help you through all of it, of course. 

It had taken you two weeks to be discharged from the hospital and be able to finally walk again, but when you did it — you felt like a whole new person, in a whole new world. Sure, you had to hold onto your mother or Jeongin wherever you went for the first week or so — it was almost like your legs had turned jelly.

When you returned home, Jeongin insisted that he take you to the garden every day, and when you complained that you couldn’t walk, he’d lifted you into his arms (bridal style, again) and carried you all the way there, and then given you a piggyback ride you all the way back home.

Eventually, you ended up telling him the truth — that the unrequited love that caused everything was because of how you’d fallen for him. You figured he deserved it, especially when he’d stuck with you the whole time without any hesitation and helped you whenever he could — he was truly one of the nicest, kindest people you’d ever met.

Of course, you were surprised when Jeongin only smiled and told you that he knew what you were talking about, and then proceeded to narrate how he’d overheard you in the hospital. Giggles left his lips when you gave him that meme-worthy look, making him shake his head before slinging and arm over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, that night ended just like the books — lovey-dovey confessions exchanged in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over shy smiles and lingering kisses. The both of you finally gave in to each other.

Huh, so maybe you were wrong about them — books — after all.

So when, your love was returned in the end, every flower in your chest had finally disappeared, and you couldn’t have been happier.

“You know when I brought you here I wanted you to help me pick flowers and not read a book?”

You laugh at the voice that comes from behind, closing the book shut before placing it on the side while Jeongin takes a seat beside you, hissing at the slight coldness of the grass. Ah, what a romantic scenario — green and colorful flowers as far as the eye could see, a book that you’ve been trying to finish but have never been able to because your boyfriend keeps interrupting you with his random outbursts of affection, and said person sitting right next to you.

“Well, you keep interrupting me all the time!” You chuckle, sliding a hand behind his shoulder before pulling him down to lie on your lap, and Jeongin complies. A sigh of content leaves his lips when he feels your fingers comb through his hair to rid them of any tangles — Jeongin feels stupid to not realise how much he loves you. It feels nice to call you his, feels nice to be able to say I love you, in all of it’s true meaning.

“What, I can’t cuddle my girlfriend now? Come on,” He takes your other hand in his, turning onto his back to look up at you before pressing his lips to the back of your hand. You feel the heat creep up your cheeks when he calls you his girlfriend, still not being able to take it in without growing immensely shy.

“You crybaby, fine. I’ll read the book later only because I love you and you give exceptionally nice cuddles.”

“Hmm, good.” He mumbles sleepily, eyes fluttering shut in calmness when he feels your fingers brush away any stray locks of hair that may get into his eyes. The reaction to your touch is so immediate these days, Jeongin thinks it’s a part of his routine now. Spend at least an hour admiring you in all of your happy, healthy glory.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, admiring his features in silence. His hair has grown longer now — Jeongin refuses to cut it no matter your endless verbalizations of how his original haircut looked better — and a small part of you has grown fond of this look too. His warm skin, and his sparkly eyes when he looks up at you, the bright, loving smile that he displays before getting out of your lap, kissing you on your lips to break you out of your focus.

The action only makes you more shy, and Jeongin laughs, cooing at your behavior before standing up, dusting his clothes off the dirt and extending his hand for you.

“Lend me a hand, will you?”

The line seems vaguely familiar and you’re overcome with a sense of deja vu, but nonetheless, you give him your hand, standing up before picking up your satchel and handing him his own.

“Now are you gonna pick a rose for me or do I have to do it myself again?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow and smirks, and you frown, slapping his arm before walking off to check all the flowers in their bushes.

“Hey, wait for me! Y/N!”

When he reaches you, he slides a hand into your own, interlacing the fingers before looking at you lovingly.

“I love you.” You both say at the same time, giggling at each other soon after — perhaps at how well you knew each other to time the confession so well.

So, this is how it ends. While you do think that things could’ve been handled differently, you’re glad that everything went the way it went, because in the end, you’d found him, he’d found you, you’d discovered your feelings together. You loved each other.

Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid.

but what if she had never recovered?

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[cuteykat]

Hello friend!! I have decided to ask something for my daddies favorite characters! If that's okay? I didn't see any rules or anything soooooo

I'mma just go on gut instinct

Maybe some fluffy cuddles with Lucci, Crocodile, Mihawk and Ace? (And anyone else you wanna throw in? Any daddies I missed) Oh and headcanons unless u wanna do scenario? Please and Thank you!!

Hello! Thank you for the request! These scenarios will be in short story form to I hope your okay with! They’re are two extra character I added in there too! I hope you enjoy

Ace: It was early morning sailing along on a winter island. Snow was failing everywhere and it was very cold. Everyone would usually be wearing something warmer, well except Ace.

Ace was walking along the ship until see you noticing how cold you were.

“ are you okay (name)?” He ask being a bit concerned

You look down before looking back up “ Ace do you think we could cuddle since it’s very cold?” You ask the fire man.

Ace was quiet embarrassed that you asked, his face turned bright red not knowing what to say at first but he nods his head walking over to you. He kneels down beside you hugging you tightly in his arms feeling like a heater

“ Thank you ace” you mumble and start to close your eyes. The man was like a living heater and you could peacefully fall asleep in his embrace. Shortly after you did fall asleep to which he smiles

“ Your so cute (name)” he picks you up gently bringing you to your bed so they could cuddle more.

Lucci: it was early morning in enbies lobby but no one could tell due to how it was always sunny night and day and the stars never showed themselves.

You were doing your regular task along the ships feeling sad. You didnt particularly know why you felt that way but you did. You kept a smile on your face to which most people would assume that you were happy except for Lucci. He could sense how you felt at any given moment, have it be due to the Neko neko fruit or just pure instinct. He wouldn’t go right up and ask but he would follow you around a bit till you were both in a secluded area. The man walks up to you having a small hint of worry on his face.

“ Something the matter?” He ask looking down at you

“ I guess I can’t really hide it Huh” you look down at the ground “ Just feeling sad, I don’t know why” you think about it till it hits you “ Maybe because I miss seeing the stars and moon. We don’t get to see it here and it’s just something I miss” you sign before smiling “ But thats okay! I enjoy being here”

Lucci nods and gets an idea “ Meet me by the gate at 7 pm alright?” He waits for your confirmation

“ Of course lucci sir” you say even though you were genuinely confused

Through out the day you felt a bit better but there were times you thought about the stars. All so beautiful in the sky.

In the afternoon lucci goes to speak with spandam “ I have something I have to do later tonight so I’ll be taking the night off” he says while rubbing hattori chin

“ What’s so important?” Spandam complains like a whiney child

“ None of your business” he retorts

“ Probably bringing (name) somewhere” Kaku says to which slightly embarrasses Lucci.

“ None of your business” lucci walks out

7 pm comes and you were standing outside the gate when seeing the man hold something that was like a picnic basket and a train comes around

“ Get on” the man instructs.

You both get on the train and it starts to ride having it be only the two of you. It was quiet but he opens up the Picnic basket to where they’re was a small home made meal along with some snacks before he opens up the window “ Take a look outside”

You mod and look outside, you were out of enbies lobby and you could see the stars. You start to cry at the nice gesture before he sits next to you holding you.

“ You said you were missing the night sky right? I thought I would let you see it again”

“ Thank you so much!”

You both cuddle and eat watching the night sky before you start to get tired.

You yawn and hug the men quietly thanking him before falling asleep.

“ If I could do this more with you I would” he puts his face into the crook of your neck as a shooting star flies by. Maybe the stars would grant that wish.

Mihawk: it was close to midnight, it was a rainy day after the whole sky be pitch black with no stars shining through at all. The whole day Mihawk had been busy running around unable to see you all day. And right as he gets a break he can see the red hair pirate walk in

“ Yo! I’m not interrupting anything am I?” Shanks says with a smile

“ Right as I get a break to. Come inside I guess. (Name) will be happy to see you” Mihawk says seeing shanks also had alcohol with him

“ Great!” Shanks says walking in going to the living room seeing you were wrapping something up

“ What are you up to (name)” shanks ask looking over

You jump looking surprised “ I’ll tell you but you can’t tell Mihawk”

The red hair man smiles “ deal!” He opens up some rum for the both of you

“ I made ( or bought depending on how you choose) this for Mihawk. I’ve been waiting till he wasn’t busy so I can give it to him but he been busy all day” you say holding the scarf in your hands clenching down on the fabric before seeing Mihawk walk in

“ Mihawk I-“

“ Sorry I’ve been quite busy today. Let’s drink alright?” Mihawk says not noticing it we’re holding something

“ y-yeah!” You put the scarf into pocket

A few hours hours and you were already drunk and leaning against the greatest swordsmen getting tired

“ mihawk~” you say looking at the men before hugging him “ love you” you fall asleep closing your eyes

Mihawk looks quite surprised only to see shanks laugh

“ What’s so funny shanks?” The man looks at shanks with his golden eyes like he was staring into his soul

“ She fell asleep before she could show you it” he points to your pocket “ Look in her left pocket”

Mihawk wonders what the hell the other man was talking about but reaches in your pocket and grabs a scarf

“ it’s a scarf”

“ Look at it closely!” Shanks laughs drinking more alcohol

Mihawk observes it and sees his name is engraved into the scarf making his face turn a light hue of red before wrapping it around his neck and hugging you tightly starting to cuddle you.

You smile in your sleep and mumble “ I love you Mihawk” you go back to being quiet

“ I love you too” he mumbles under his breathe before gently picking you up in his arms and starts to carry you to their shared room “ Goodnight shanks” he mentions.

“ Goodnight you lovers!” He laughs seeing how cute Mihawk was being to you

Mihawk sits both of you on the bed and he watches you with his golden eyes. He thought you were the most beautiful women he has ever seen.

“ Goodnight my love” he kisses your forehead and hugs you tighter falling asleep cuddling you the whole night.

Crocodile: it was about 8 Pm in Alabasta. The sun was setting meaning it was starting to get cold. The days were scorching hot and the nights were freezing cold. Crocodile had another busy day but that was usual for the man but usually once he would have seen you walking around to either have tea ( or coffee) or feeding the bananagators. He’s not one to worry much but for you it was different.

“ where could that women be?” He walks and goes to his bedroom to think but he sees you were in his bed not looking too good. Your face has a red hue to it and you had blankets wrapped around you. You looked sick but crocodile was surprised you were in his bed and not your own

“ What are you do-“ he saw that you were asleep and looking visibly in pain and before he could continue to think nico robin appeared

“ She almost passed out near your room Mr.0. I brought her here earlier this morning. She must of been asleep the whole day”

Crocoldile sighs “ Fine. Can you leave us two alone women”

Nico smiles and leaves the two of them alone

Crocodile looking at form seeing you were still shivering despite being under 3 blankets. His face had worry in it before going to the bathroom grabbing a thermometer.

You open your eyes slowly seeing the man walk over to you “ I’m sorry cr-“

“ Don’t talk” he puts the thermometer into your mouth and when hearing the beep he takes it out. You definitely had a fever. He goes to call a doctor but can feel your hand grab on his clothes

“Please cuddle with me” you ask before letting go. You were so tired that you couldn’t even keep your grip on the mans coat

Crocodile wouldn’t admit it but he did find it cute that such a strong women like you would ask for something like that. He would completely deny any one else but he sighs shaking his hand “ Alright” he gets in bed and wraps his coat around you knowing you like his coat before seeing you wrap your arms around his form and closing your eyes once again

“ Thank you crocodile” you fall asleep having your face show the real pain you were in once again.

The man hugs you lightly not wanting to hurt you but let’s put a small smile before frowning “ Your definitely seeing a doctor tomorrow. But for now I will cuddle with you. I love you (name) you are a very strong women and I can’t see you being sick” he goes and turns off the light “ Goodnight (name)” you both sleep the whole night together having crocodile keep your warm the whole night.

Sanji: it was 7 pm, the stars were shining beautifully through the night sky. Everyone had finished dinner but you had decided not to eat. You wanted to watch the stars in the sky and think about the solar system as a whole. They’re were so many theories out there but one that was always on your mind is that the people you missed were a star in the night watching over you to keep you safe. It had been a while since you were on the ship with your crew but you missed the people you love and watching the stars made you feel closer to them. You were so lost in the stars you didn’t even hear Sanji yell your name

“ (name)-chaaaaaannn!!” Sanji rushes over with food that he had saved for you but he sees that you were so intently looking at the stars that you didn’t even notice he was there, to which made him shock

“ (name)-Chan?” He says poking your shoulder to which makes you jump “ Didn’t mean to scare you but you never came to dinner so I saved you some food”

“ O-oh thank you Sanji-Kun” you smile a bit taking the food and give him a hug in thanks before eating quietly and watching the stars

Sanji felt like he could pass out at the women, your hugs were like a hug from the goddess, your smile was brighter then any star in the sky.

He goes and sits down next to you wanting to spend some time together

“ What are you thinking about cutie?” He ask to which your face gets bright red

“ I-I well” it takes you a moment before speaking again “ When I look at the stars it brings me peace. They’re are so many different things people believe in when thinking about the stars. But the first thing that comes to mind for me is the people you love, the people you miss. They are the stars in the night watching over you, protecting you to whoever may harm you. They are the guiding light in the night sky” you take a bit of your food almost chocking when Sanji hugs you close, smelling the strawberry shampoo in your hair “ Are you missing someone right now?” He ask rubbing your hair trying to soothe you

You hum and nod your head “ I love being with everyone here, it’s always a fun new adventure waiting to happen but...” you take a breathe “ I do miss some people in my life. Every day I’m grateful for being here with everyone but I do miss them”

“ It’s okay (name)-Chan. That’s completely normal feeling. Everyones loves you here but I love you more then anyone else on this ship. I’m always here for you” Sanji looks up at the stars

You finish your dinner and lean against the cook giving him a kiss on the cheek “ Can we stay like this for a bit longer? I know you have to clean up but being with you like this... it makes me happy”

“ of course darling, anything for you”

Both you and Sanji spend a long time in each other’s arms watching the stars in the sky and enjoy each other’s company.

Zoro: today had been quite a peaceful day on the ship to which was a very rare occasion but it did sometimes happen. You were able to relax peacefully, everyone doing there own things but all you could here was Zoro grunt when lifting weights. You knew he was lifting inhuman number of weights but he was being very loud today for some reason. You stop whatever your doing and try to walk to him but you start to fall off the ship and before you go overboard Zoro had dropped his weights and grabbed you quickly

“ Z-Zoro...” you look at the man “ T-thank you”

Zoro humans but starts to hug you tighter while putting his face into his shoulder seeing some of his crew mates staring

“ Zoro is something wro-“ before you could continue Zoro quickly lifted you up your feet and carried you both to your bedroom placing you on the bed

“ Zoro what’s going o-“

“ I want to cuddle with you (name)” a light blush forms on his face “ I wanted to all day but I couldn’t get the words out. But seeing you almost fall off the ship it-“

You go and kiss the swordsmen cheek smiling “ It’s okay. I would love to cuddle with you”

He grins and gets in bed with you. He wraps you both in a blanket before hugging you tightly. One big arm wraps around your body while the other plays with your hair. He loved you so much, toot smile, your laugh, the way you shine in the sun, the way you could make his day with a snap of the finger. Zoro would never have thought of falling in love but with you, it was a whole new feeling, one he would never want to stop.”

“ I love you (name)”

“ I love you too Zoro. Thank you for cuddling with me”

He hums and the rest of the day you both cuddle and talk having it be a peaceful but very nice day, to which you both will hold dearly in your hearts

Im sorry if there are any grammar mistakes as I didn’t check before hand due to it being my birthday and I wanted to get this out as quick as possible! Again I hope you enjoy!

#zoro headcanons #zoro x reader #sanji headcanons #sanji x reader #rob lucci #rob lucci headcanons #rob lucci x reader #Mihawk headcanons #mihawk x reader #crocodile headcanons #crocodile x reader #ace headcanons #ace x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece #one piece x reader