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junghelioseok · 4 years

Text

covenant.

↳ your best friend’s engagement forces you to reevaluate your own feelings.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | angst | werewolf!au | f2l!au ◇ 16.4k [1/1]

⇢ arguably also an arranged marriage!au, ft. kinda sorta dumbasses to lovers? a very, very late bday fic for the most beautiful man in the universe and my favorite funky lil dancer. ♡

notes: i started this in my drafts well over three months ago and all it said was “this ain’t gonna be on time for hobi’s bday i can feel it” and damn if past!me wasn’t right on the money!!! this has undergone three edits, going from 14.6k to 16.4k somehow, and i am going to lose my whole damn mind if i don’t just post it so here it is! hope you enjoy!

warnings: dom!hobi, alpha!hobi, bit of dirty talk, oral (f receiving), some grinding against hobi’s thigh, knotting, hobi’s got a big dick idk, also he’s in heat!!! but things eventually get really soft bc i love him and am a Soft Bitch™ 🤷🏻‍♀️

It’s going to rain.

You can smell it in the air and feel the damp chill against your skin, permeating through every layer of your clothing. The surrounding forest and all its occupants seem to be collectively holding their breath, waiting for the first drops to come. Even your footsteps, soft as they are against the loamy earth, sound much too loud in the hush that’s fallen. Dark clouds gather overhead, looming like an omen, and you silently reach into your purse to check that the umbrella you’d stowed this morning is still there. Vaguely, you wonder if it’s big enough for two.

Around you, the trees slowly begin to dwindle, until there’s only open sky above your head and a wide grassy expanse beneath your feet. A certain heaviness lingers in the air here—a low thrum of energy, born from the ancient magic that sleeps in the gnarled roots of the tree that sits in the center of the clearing. You can feel it prickling along your skin, raising gooseflesh and igniting your veins, and the closer you get, the stronger the feeling becomes.

At the far end of the clearing, you spot a small crowd of people, all clad in black. Your best friend—and your entire reason for venturing out today—stands amongst them in a tailored suit, his black tie snug at his throat and laid atop a charcoal gray shirt. He’s chatting with his father and a few other family members, seemingly calm and collected, but you can tell from the sloppy knot of his tie and the way he fidgets with the hem of his jacket that he is anything but. After all your years of friendship, you can read Jung Hoseok like a book. His auburn hair is disheveled as if he’s been incessantly raking his fingers through it, and even at a distance, you can sense the turmoil in his aura, haloing him like the stormy clouds overhead.

Sensing your approach, Hoseok’s gaze flickers up to meet yours. He raises a hand in greeting and bids farewell to the people he’d been chatting with, picking his way over to you with a wan smile.

“Hey. You made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” you reply, reaching out to take his hand. It’s warm and strong as always, but you don’t miss the slight tremor in his grip. “How are you holding up?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, a sigh escaping his lips and dissipating into mist in the wintry air. “As well as can be expected, I guess. It just… it all happened so fast.”

“I know,” you murmur, twining your fingers together in quiet reassurance. “I’m so sorry, Hobi.”

“Thanks.”

Slowly, his gaze flits to the center of the clearing where the ancient tree sits, traversing from the leafy canopy all the way down to where the gnarled roots disappear into the dirt. In its shadow sits a polished wooden casket, and you squeeze Hoseok’s hand gently as he walks closer, his eyes beginning to glisten.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone, you know,” he mumbles. “All these years of war, of negotiations and peace talks, finally seeing the Accords pass and the company flourish… and now he’s gone. Cancer. Just like that.”

His voice cracks on the last sentence, and you clasp his hand a little tighter. You know as well as he does that a healthy werewolf can live for well over a century, if not for the human genetics that remain susceptible to human weaknesses and disease. True immortality afflicts only the faeries and the vampires of your world—and even then, there are still ways that those folk can die.

“He lived a long life,” you say after a moment’s hesitation, grasping onto any semblance of comfort you can offer. Together, you and Hoseok come to a stop in the shadow of the tree, peering at the closed casket where his grandfather lays. “And it was a good, just life. Not all of us can say that.”

A lone, wet droplet falls onto the polished mahogany, and Hoseok hastily wipes his eyes, tilting his head skyward. “Not long enough,” he whispers. “He still had so much to do. I… I still have so much I wanted to do—to say. And now I’ll never be able to.”

You caress a thumb across his knuckles, the motion soft and tender. “I know. And I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

Hoseok glances down at that, a glimmer of something manic and desperate swimming in his amber-flecked irises. “You could,” he says, grabbing both your hands and clutching them to his chest like a lifeline. “You could bring him back. You know how, don’t you?”

You shake your head sadly, hating the way his frown deepens as you free yourself from his grasp. “That’s forbidden magic, Hobi. That’s necromancy. You know I can’t do that.”

Hoseok’s entire body sags, his shoulders slumping as he lets out a heavy sigh. Instinctively, you step forward to wrap him in a hug, and he loops his arms around your waist automatically, pulling you flush against him. “I know,” he mumbles into your hair. Then he huffs out a dry chuckle, humorless and deprecating. “Fuck. I’m a mess, huh?”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. Instead, you hold him a little tighter, rubbing his back soothingly in long, slow motions—the same way his mother used to do during bedtime. His heart thuds erratically in his chest, fast and frenzied like a caged bird, but lulls as you continue your ministrations, settling into an even rhythm once more.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after a few moments, his warm breath caressing your cheek. “For coming today. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You can do anything, Hobi,” you reassure, running a thumb along the sharp line of his jaw when he raises his head to look at you. “With or without me. But… you’re welcome, all the same.”

Your presence at this funeral is unusual, and both you and Hoseok know it. Werewolf packs tend to keep their rites and ceremonies private, and the Gwangju pack is no different. Led by Hoseok’s father, and his late grandfather before him, the werewolves of the city have rapidly risen to prominence and power, aided in large part by the founding of JungTech. The company, started by Hoseok’s grandfather, began as a small operation in a battered old warehouse, but quickly grew to become one of Gwangju’s biggest corporations after the signing of the Accords twenty years ago. The peace treaty marked the start of a tenuous coexistence between humankind and Shadowfolk, and, together with your fellow witches—along with the werewolves, vampires, and the few fair folk who decided to leave their homes deep in the forests—you migrated into cities all over the country to forge new lives.

It’s proven easier for some. While the wolves of the city have found tolerance—acceptance, even—you have not fared quite as well. Humans, you have found, tend to fear the ancient magic that runs through your veins. Though nothing you’ve faced comes remotely close to what your ancestors faced in centuries past, you remain wary of those who take a little too much interest in your abilities.

You’re a bit paranoid, your familiar, Bast, has remarked on more than one occasion. But it’s justified, so I suppose it’s all right.

As if sensing that your thoughts have turned to him, Bast stirs in the back of your mind. You feel him yawn and stretch lazily before there’s a tug on the soles of your feet, as if the force of gravity has suddenly, inexplicably doubled. Then he’s materializing—morphing out of the spot where your shadow would be if the sun were shining, taking the form of an inky black cat with sharp, golden eyes. Hoseok perks up when Bast loops between his ankles, and immediately squats down to scratch behind his ears, a small smile settling across his face as a low, content purr rumbles up from beneath his fingertips. From elsewhere in the clearing, a single howl rises up into the air, forlorn and wavering.

It’s starting, Bast says in your head. At the same time, Hoseok straightens to his full height, fiddling with the hem of his black jacket and looking over at you tentatively.

“Sounds like they’re getting started,” he says.

You nod. “I should go.”

Hoseok opens his mouth as if to protest—as if to say no, stay—but you know better and cut him off with a single raised finger.

“I’ll go,” you murmur. “This is a private rite, and I don’t want to break centuries of tradition by overstaying my welcome. Go join your pack, Hobi.”

“Will I see you later?”

“Without a doubt.”

Your parting gesture is to reach out and grab his hand, tucking a little drawstring bag into his palm and closing his fingers over it. “Valerian root and chamomile,” you tell him gently, taking in his rumpled collar and the dark bags beneath his eyes. “Make some tea tonight. It’ll help.”

Hoseok swallows and nods, his features softening as he gazes down at his hand cupped in your smaller ones. He looks like he wants to say something, but another howl interrupts, disrupting whatever thoughts he may have had. Instead, he nods again, murmuring a soft goodbye before turning on his heel to join the rest of the pack gathering around the raised casket. You turn as well, leaving behind the ancient clearing with Bast trotting by your side.

Up above, the heavens finally open, drenching the dirt path beneath your feet with rain. And behind you, the single howl is joined by dozens more, echoing mournfully up into the weeping sky.

///

You’re in the middle of straightening out a display of dittany when the kettle begins to boil, emitting three short, shrill whistles accompanied by a long stream of whirling steam. When silence falls over the shop once more, you wander over to where the kettle sits—atop a small wooden end table next to an old wardrobe. It’s an old relic that’s been passed down through generations of witches in your family, wrought out of silvery metal and suspended in an iron frame above a single lit candle. The flame is glowing pink, flickering in a nonexistent gust of wind, and you smile. Quietly, you grab two teacups from a nearby shelf.

Not two seconds later, the door of the old wardrobe creaks open, revealing the familiar face of Kim Seokjin behind it. A fellow witch and a good friend of yours, Jin has made a name for himself as a baker, running a café in Seoul that offers all sorts of confections—both with magical properties and without. His hair is dyed a muted dusty rose—a stark contrast to the casual black hoodie and jeans he’s wearing—and you reach out to push a stray lock back from his forehead in lieu of a greeting.

“Your hair’s pink again,” you remark. “I like it.”

Jin grins, his plush lips pulling back to reveal perfect teeth. “Thanks.” Carefully, he steps out of the wardrobe and shuts the door behind him. A beat of silence passes, and you take the opportunity to select a canister of tea leaves. You don’t miss the flicker of solemnity that settles into Jin’s features, though, listening as he clears his throat before voicing the question that is undoubtedly the reason behind his unexpected visit.

“So. How’s Hoseok holding up?”

Jin has never been one to mince his words. You suppose you appreciate that about him.

Quietly, you lift the kettle out of its stand and beckon for him to join you at the little wooden table at the front of your shop. It’s tucked neatly into the nook carved out by one of the two bay windows on either side of the front door, flanked by two well-worn, mismatched chairs. Atop it sits a pile of books—everything from ancient remedies to common household spells.

One book in particular always sits open—a detailed list of all the herbs and plants you carry in your shop, along with the various concoctions you’ve created with them. Hellebore, the spine of the book reads, and it’s the same word that graces your storefront in flowing, golden text. An apothecary of sorts, you spend your days dealing out potions and remedies to those in need, both human and Shadowfolk. You do your best to help, for all the times modern medicine has come up short and left someone wanting.

“Honestly? I don’t think he’s been sleeping.” You set the teacups down onto the table and fill them both before handing one over to Jin. “I saw him this morning, at the funeral. He looked exhausted.”

Jin’s brows disappear behind his pink hair. “You went to the funeral?”

“I didn’t stay,” you clarify, taking a sip of your tea. “Just wanted to drop by, say hello, and pay my respects.”

“Werewolves are a private bunch,” Jin remarks. “I’m surprised.”

You shrug. “Hoseok wanted me to be there. So I went.”

“I see.” He doesn’t say anything further, and neither do you, lapsing instead into a comfortable silence that’s broken only by the occasional sip of tea and the clinking of china. Your gaze wanders, drifting over to the front door of your shop, painted a cheerful green and set with a flowery stained glass window that throws kaleidoscopic rainbows across the cream walls and dark wooden floor. Sunlight streams through the wide bay windows, illuminating the interior in warm, hazy gold. On the other side of the room, Bast is curled up, fast asleep on his favorite plush bench beside the glass door that leads to the greenhouse, perfectly haloed by the sun.

“Must be nice being able to fall asleep anywhere,” you mutter, almost to yourself.

Jin hears you anyway, a chuckle escaping his lips. “You sound jealous.”

“Maybe I am,” you reply, laughing with him. “Speaking of which, where’s Adam? Did he stay home?”

Jin nods, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the wardrobe. “Yeah, he’s keeping an eye on the café. Told me to say hi to you for him, though.”

You giggle at the thought of Jin’s familiar, a long-haired sheepdog with a stubborn streak the size of the Nile and blatant disdain for following orders—especially those that come from Jin himself. “Keeping watch, or trashing the place?” you tease.

“With my luck, probably both,” Jin admits with a sigh. “I should probably get back there soon. He ate all the egg tarts last time.”

“Bring him with you next time,” you advise. “Bast will keep him entertained.”

He grins. “I don’t doubt it.”

Finishing off the last of his tea, he stands up and taps the rim of his cup, murmuring a soft cleaning spell under his breath. You smile gratefully as he replaces it back onto the shelf with the others, and stand to walk him back over to the wardrobe. Opening up the creaky door, you watch him clamber inside, standing amongst the hanging coats and the single pair of shoes on the bottom shelf.

“See you later,” you murmur. “Give Adam my best.”

Jin nods. “See you.”

He shuts the door, and you watch the flame of the candle once again turn a soft, roseate pink. It flickers briefly, dancing in an invisible breeze, before reverting back to the color of regular fire, signaling Jin’s departure. Quietly, you clean your own teacup and return it to the shelf.

The remainder of the afternoon passes with few customers, so you opt to close down early and head to your apartment, located up a short flight of stairs on the second floor of the shop. You’re rifling through the refrigerator for dinner ingredients and humming softly under your breath when your phone suddenly rings, Hoseok’s name lighting up the screen in bright white text. “Hey, Hobi,” you say, swiping across the glass to answer. “What’s up?”

On the other end of the line, Hoseok exhales shakily. “Can you come over?”

You blink, glancing at the darkening sky outside. “Now?”

“Yeah. Fuck, sorry. I know it’s late, but I really… I really need to talk to someone. I—” His voice cracks, and your heart sinks. “I need you.”

“Say no more.” Straightening up, you shut the refrigerator door and tug off your apron. “I’ll be there in half an hour. Have you eaten yet?”

Hoseok sighs. “No.”

“I’ll bring takeout,” you decide, already glancing around for your purse. “See you soon, okay?”

Bidding him farewell, you don your coat and head out the door, locking up behind you. Hoseok lives downtown in a sleek, modern penthouse that’s normally a twenty-minute walk away from Hellebore, but after stopping by the restaurant on the corner for food, you opt to catch the bus instead. Fifteen minutes after you hang up the phone, you are rapping the bronze knocker on Hoseok’s front door, a paper bag and a bottle of wine in hand.

Almost instantly, the door is flung open. Hoseok stands in the threshold as if he’s been waiting there, his auburn hair wild and his eyes even wilder. His aura is turbulent, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You raise the bag. “I brought dinner.”

“You’re the best,” he sighs, stepping aside to let you in.

Hoseok’s apartment toes the line between modern and cozy in a way that only Hoseok’s apartment could—with lush green plants and plushy, earth-toned furniture to offset the cold impersonality of the floor-to-ceiling windows and the stainless steel kitchen. Flicking on the kitchen light, you set the food down on the granite countertop and grab two wine glasses out of the cabinet. Hoseok sidles over as you pour a generous helping into each glass, rifling through the silverware drawer for utensils.

“Smells good,” he murmurs, popping a box open. “I’m starving. Thanks for bringing dinner.”

You brush off his gratitude and hand him a glass, raising yours so you can clink it gently against his. Quietly, the two of you fall into a comfortable routine, with Hoseok grabbing the food and you grabbing the bottle of wine to bring into the living room. You help him clear off the coffee table and arrange the food, then settle onto the couch beside him, sipping your drink in silence and patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts. Years of friendship have taught you that he’ll talk when he’s ready, and you’re content to wait as long as he needs.

Sighing, Hoseok tips the rest of his wine back into his mouth before setting the empty glass down with a soft plink. “So,” he begins, not quite looking you in the eye. “My dad and I had lunch today.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. He takes several more seconds to muster up the words, and when he finally finds them, they’re exhaled in a tumbling rush. “He told me that he’s pleased with how I’m running JungTech. It’s been over a year, and things are going well… so he wants to expedite my takeover of the pack. In two months, he wants me to take over as the alpha. And…” He swallows. “He wants me to settle down.”

Perturbed, you blink. “What?”

Hoseok finally looks at you, his expression frighteningly devoid of emotion. “He wants me to get married, {Name}.”

Comprehension doesn’t settle in right away. But when it does, your jaw drops to the floor, landing somewhere alongside the ornamental persian carpet and a stray sock that has no doubt jumped ship from Hoseok’s laundry.

“W-what?” you manage after a few long seconds of gaping at him. “Why? Why now? That’s so… that’s completely out of the blue.”

Hoseok shakes his head, a few shaggy strands of auburn hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes. “It’s not, actually. He’s been talking about it for a long time—trying to arrange something with one of the other pack families. It’s tradition, you know? Mating within the pack, keeping the bloodlines pure through marriage. The difference is that Pops always talked him out of it. Always said I was too young, that there was no rush, that I should wait for someone I love, my true mate...” He sighs, heavily. “But he’s gone now. And Dad’s decided that he’s done waiting.”

You shouldn’t ask. You shouldn’t, because you know it’ll hurt, but the question comes regardless—leaving your lips in a near whisper. “Who?”

Hoseok takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he exhales. “Do you remember Im Nayeon?”

You do. You’ve known Nayeon almost as long as you’ve known Hoseok—the three of you having attended the same schools starting from elementary all the way up until Hoseok left to attend university in Seoul. Admittedly, you were never close—and if you were completely honest, you always found her to be a bit disingenuous for your tastes. Nevertheless, you often found yourself at the same events—parties and gatherings you attended at Hoseok’s request, and that she was privy to due to her family’s high-ranking status within the Gwangju pack.

“I remember,” you tell him, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. “Does… does she know yet? Have you met up with her?”

Hoseok nods. “She was there this morning, at the funeral. We talked a little bit and got coffee after, but… this is all happening so fast.” Slowly, he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling, a sigh escaping his parted lips. “But there’s nothing I can do, right? It’s enough that Dad’s somehow talked Mom into the whole thing, but now he’s gotten the Council on board too. Did you know that Nayeon has an uncle on the Council? It’s insane, right?”

“Insane,” you agree in a whisper, doing your best to ignore the way your heart is splintering at the edges.

“You know, I always thought my Dad pressuring me was bad.” Hoseok buries his face in his hands, peering at you from between his splayed fingers when you hum in acknowledgment. “But this? The entire Council on my back? This is way worse.”

“I’m sorry.” You don’t know what else there is to say. Your ribcage feels like it’s been split open and filled with burning coals, weighing hot and heavy on your insides.

Hoseok has dated in the past, of course. You both have—chasing that elusive, fluttery feeling called love and never quite being able to catch it and hold on. Hoseok’s last relationship fizzled long before he graduated from university, having lasted only about six months. You distinctly remember meeting the girl during one of your frequent visits to Seoul, at a small party hosted by Hoseok and his friends. By your next visit, however, things had already ended. He never really told you why the breakup occurred either—only that the relationship never would have lasted in the long run.

Perhaps foolishly, you chose not to pry.

“Is there anything I can do?” you ask softly. Reaching out, you take ahold of his hand and tug it into your lap, threading your fingers into the gaps between his. The gesture is familiar and comforting, like cocoa in front of a lit fireplace, and you can’t even begin to fathom the idea of another person sitting here and holding his hand in your stead.

“Just talk to me,” Hoseok entreaties, squeezing your fingers. “Distract me. What’s going on with you?”

You hum, swallowing down the lump in your throat and letting your head fall onto his shoulder as you pick through the events of the past week for the most interesting tidbits. “Bast has been bringing me dead rats lately,” you finally say, nose scrunching at the memory. “You should see the size of them—they’re almost bigger than he is. And they smell like the sewers, because I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s where he’s getting them from. It’s horrid.”

Hoseok huffs out a stilted laugh. “Sewer rats? Gross.”

“It’s not all bad, to be honest,” you tell him, nestling a little closer to the warmth of his body. Hoseok keeps his apartment chillier than you’re accustomed to, and you’re beyond grateful for the furnace-like heat he gives off naturally. “The bones are pretty useful. The tails too, provided you don’t tell people what they actually are.”

His laugh is much more genuine this time. “Tricky little minx,” he says, amusement lacing his tone. “I’ve always liked that about you.”

You ignore the uptick in your heart rate at his approval, grateful that he can’t see your face as a pulse of heat flushes your cheeks. Instead, you burrow into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. Hoseok smells like the forest—fresh and woodsy, with a slight floral undercurrent from his fabric softener. It smells like home, and you smile when his arm comes up to wrap around your shoulders.

“Jin came by today,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” The monosyllabic response rumbles through his chest.

“Yeah. He asked about you, too. You should probably text him later.”

Hoseok hums a confirmation, and, satisfied, you cuddle a little closer to him. You pull at the afghan he keeps laid over the back of the couch, laying it comfortably over your lap as he rests his head gently atop yours, his ear pressed to your crown. Your eyes fall shut as you listen to the rhythmic thud of his pulse—solid and steady, backed by the soft hum of the refrigerator and distant traffic on the street far below.

It’s comfortable, sitting with him like this. Comfortable, stroking his arm with your fingertips, in time with the drumbeat of his heart. Ever so gradually, Hoseok’s breathing evens out, and you briefly think that you could stay like this—encapsulated in this delicate, iridescent bubble of contentment—for the rest of your life.

You know the thing about bubbles, though? Bast remarks dryly in your head. They burst.

I know, you sigh.

I know.

///

There’s something soothing about taking inventory—something calming in the repetition of walking down the aisles of Hellebore and restocking the shelves one by one. You’d woken this morning to an apologetic Hoseok making pancakes in the kitchen, his residual heat and woodsy scent lingering on the blanket tucked around your body. After a harried breakfast and a promise to text you later, Hoseok rushed off to the office.

You, in turn, returned to your shop, where you grabbed every ounce of cleaning supplies you possess and scrubbed the place from top to bottom, foregoing all of your usual dishwashing charms and dust-clearing jinxes. The physical labor is a welcome distraction from the events and revelations of last night, and you’ve thrown yourself wholeheartedly into all the chores you need to complete.

“Almost out of rosehip oil,” you mutter, eyeing the half-empty vial and making a note to extract more from one of several plants in your greenhouse. “Low on valerian too, hmm…”

The bell over the front door jingles merrily, diverting your attention away from your task. “{Name}?” a voice calls softly. A moment later, a familiar head of coppery red hair pops around the edge of the shelves, choppy bangs framing a soft, warm face. “Hey, there you are. You busy?”

You shake your head and shut your inventory book, setting it down on the nearest shelf. “Not terribly, no. What brings you here today, Lisa?”

Lisa’s answering smile is sheepish. “Got something to return,” she says, holding up a little glass jar full of lavender colored pills that you immediately recognize. “I’m guessing you’ve already heard the news. Looks like I won’t be needing these anymore, right?”

Your laugh sounds brittle, even to your own ears. “Right. Yeah. Not anymore.”

For just over ten years, Lisa has been the wolf assigned to help Hoseok through his heat. Between his family’s status and his longtime designation as the next alpha of the Gwangju pack, it’s imperative for Hoseok to avoid anything that might be perceived as scandalous. Torrid sex stories splashed across tabloid covers is the last thing a man like Hoseok needs, and that’s where Lisa comes in. Once a year, for three days, she goes to him, and no one is none the wiser. Her job is one that calls for the utmost discretion, and as the daughter of a high-ranking Council official, no one understood that better than she did. You’d only found out because of your role as one of the few witches in the country who makes and stocks the proper contraceptives for such wolves—the dosage much stronger than the human equivalent.

And when Lisa had first approached you to purchase the pills, you’d dropped two jars and nearly set fire to a third. Your stomach had fallen to somewhere around your toes, right alongside the shattered glass and little lavender tablets.

You’d chalked the accident up to surprise. Hoseok hadn’t mentioned anything to you, after all, and you’d known very little about the intricacies of werewolf heats back then, having just opened your shop at age eighteen. But surprise doesn’t explain the snaking jealousy that bubbles up in your tummy every time Lisa comes in to restock her supply of pills, nor does it explain the overwhelming sense of relief you feel now as she presses the unopened jar into your hands.

“I still can’t believe he’s going to be the most powerful man in Gwangju soon.” Lisa steps back, tucking her hair behind her ear and letting out a soft sigh. “And now he’s engaged, too. It’s pretty crazy, huh?”

“Crazy,” you agree tonelessly, turning to replace the jar onto the appropriate shelf.

Lisa, however, is nothing if not perceptive. A gentle hand lands on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey,” she begins, soft and slow. “You know you can talk to me, right? Are you—?”

But the sound of the bell drowns out the rest of her question, metallic and bright in the quiet of your shop. “Hello? Anyone home?” a cheery voice asks.

“Be right there,” you say immediately, shrugging off Lisa’s hand and stepping out from amongst the shelves. There’s a young woman standing at the checkout counter, rifling through the collection of seeds on display, and you cringe as she replaces a few packets in the wrong spots. “How can I help you?”

At the sound of your voice, the woman turns gracefully on her heel, her expression a perfectly crafted amalgamation of surprise and delight. “{Name}!” she exclaims, stepping forward with an outstretched arm. “Long time no see!”

“N-Nayeon,” you stammer, the shock of seeing her face freezing you in place. “What… what brings you here?”

The dark-haired woman steps forward to pull you into a hug, enveloping you in her fruity perfume. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to catch up with an old friend?” she asks playfully.

We were never friends, you want to say. In your head, Bast lets out a derisive snort of agreement. Lisa, you notice, has conveniently melted away somewhere amidst the organized chaos of your shop, disappearing into the myriad shelves and knickknacks.

“Plus, I really wanted to look at some flowers,” Nayeon continues, betraying her true purpose at last. “You’ve heard, haven’t you? About my engagement? I’m sure Hoseok—I mean, my fiancé—has mentioned it to you, of all people. You are his best friend, after all.”

The inside of the shop is beginning to feel stifling. Perspiration trickles down your neck and you tug at your collar, loosening the material from where it’s plastered against your skin. “Sure,” you manage, once you feel like you can breathe again. “Right. Sure. The flowers are right this way, if you want to follow me.”

I’d forgotten how much I don’t like her, your familiar remarks dryly in your head.

Shut up, Bast.

Mercifully, he does. There’s a tug on your feet, and you glance down just in time to see him morph out of the shadow you cast against the sun-drenched floor. Ghostly and amorphous at first, he quickly solidifies into the feline figure you’ve grown accustomed to, and slinks protectively around your ankles before darting off to perch in the cushioned bay window seat.

Conveniently, that’s also where the flower display is. Colorful blooms and trailing leaves adorn the wooden shelves and tables in this particular corner of the shop, and you force yourself to shift back into professional mode as you come to a stop in front of an assortment of honeysuckle. “So, what kind of flowers are you looking for?” you ask, brushing your fingers along the pale yellow petals.

Nayeon hums thoughtfully and picks up a potted rosebush, examining it from all angles. “Roses, maybe. Are roses too clichéd now?” She brings the crimson buds closer and inhales, eyes fluttering shut. “No matter. I’ve always liked them.”

“They’re beautiful,” you agree, turning your attention to the selection of roses lining the topmost shelf. “Do you have a color preferen—?”

“Or maybe these would be better,” Nayeon interrupts, plucking up a pale pink calla lily from the bouquet you keep in a table display. “Or that one—what is it?”

You follow the trajectory of her gaze to a bunch of little white flowers with golden centers, stark against the dark dirt and surrounding green foliage. “That would be bloodroot,” you answer. “One of my personal favorites—it’s both ornamental and medicinal. It would look lovely in a bouquet.”

Nayeon pulls a face and shakes her head. “No, no—I don’t want anything with such a horrible name. What about these?” she asks, reaching up to take a closer look at a larger bloom. “Peonies, right?”

By the time Nayeon makes it back to the checkout counter with a few sample rose cuttings in hand, you’re fairly certain that several eternities have passed. “Is there anything else you need?” you ask as you ring her up and wrap the flowers neatly in paper.

“A discount for an old friend?” she queries, shooting you a playful wink. When you don’t answer right away, she giggles. “I’m kidding! Obviously, I’ll pay. It’s not like I’m pressed for money—I mean, you’ve seen who my fiancé is, right? Now gosh, where did I put my wallet?”

Your cheeks are beginning to feel far too hot. Nayeon is still rummaging in her purse, and you quickly duck beneath the counter under the pretense of looking for some ribbon to tie off the bouquet. Fanning your face, you take a few deep breaths, listening as she continues chattering away.

“We’re having dinner tonight, actually, Hoseok and I. It’ll be our second real date, and… wait!” She gasps, and you peer up just in time to see her slap a hand over her perfectly lacquered mouth. “You should come! Bring someone, if you can—it’ll be like a double date!”

If you can? Bast snipes. Curse her.

You sigh inwardly and straighten back up, ribbon in hand. Shut up, Bast.

If you won’t, I will.

You’ll do no such thing.

Mustering up your best, most earnest smile, you hand over the wrapped flowers along with her change. “That sounds like fun,” you tell her, ignoring the way your insides lurch at the lie. “When and where?”

Nayeon beams and rattles off the address of an unfamiliar restaurant. “Don’t be late!” she calls as she heads for the door. The bell jangles cheerily as she departs, and as soon as the door shuts behind her, Lisa pokes her head around a nearby bookshelf.

“Finally,” she sighs, walking over to join you. “I thought she’d never leave.”

Ordinarily, you wouldn’t dare speak ill of a customer, but you’re willing to make an exception today. “You and me both,” you reply, watching as Bast slinks over like a shadow and hops onto the counter beside you. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your elbow in silent solidarity, and you mindlessly begin scratching behind his ears as Lisa speaks again.

“Are you really going to go to that dinner tonight?”

You meet her gaze, shrugging. “I already said I would. Do I really have a choice?”

There isn’t much else to say, and both you and she know it. Pushing off from where she’s leaning against the countertop, Lisa flips her coppery hair over her shoulder and shoots you a look, brown eyes full of sympathy. “Good luck,” she says sincerely. You get the feeling that she wants to say something else, but decides against it at the last minute. Instead, she bids you goodbye and walks out with a wave and another chime of the bell. Silence settles over the shop once more, and you allow yourself a few moments to breathe—slow and deep, in and out—before picking up your phone and opening up the most recent text messages. It doesn’t take long to find the name you’re looking for, but you still pause, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, before you begin to type.

[4:21pm] You: how would you like to join me for a very awkward dinner date?

[4:21pm] Jin: consider me intrigued.

///

You and Jin arrive at the restaurant first. It’s an ornate, palatial place with tuxedoed waitstaff and a coat room, and despite giving the name ‘Jung’ at the door, you’re certain that Hoseok played no part in the venue selection. The host ushers you to a booth tucked in the back, the cushioned seats a velvety burgundy and a chandelier glittering overhead, throwing refracted, iridescent light across the veined marble table. All of a sudden, the simple black dress you’re wearing feels painfully inadequate. Glancing down at your feet, you wonder if you should have worn heels instead.

Beside you, Jin cuts a striking figure in a creamy silk shirt with ribbons that tie into a bow at his throat, the material loose and flowy up until where it tucks into fitted black slacks. His pink hair complements the elegant outfit perfectly, parted and swept off his forehead to reveal his dark brows.

As if reading your mind, he lays a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You look beautiful,” he says, before gesturing at the booth. “Now, do you want the inside or outside? Think you’ll need to make a quick getaway at some point?”

“Probably,” you sigh. Jin nods and sits down first, and you watch him slide across the seat cushion before settling in beside him. “I still can’t believe you volunteered to be here,” you murmur, plucking up one of the folded cloth napkins and fiddling with the crisp white edges. “You’re a saint, I swear.”

Jin chuckles and plucks the napkin from your clasped hands, laying it across your lap instead. “Not a saint,” he says, matching your soft tone. “Just someone who cares about you.”

Your cheeks warm at his sudden proximity. “Thank you,” you tell him, for what must be the umpteenth time. “I can’t even imagine what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you don’t have to, then,” he replies with a grin. “Now, chin up. They just walked in.”

You can’t help the groan that escapes you. “Is it too late to run?”

“Afraid so,” he answers honestly.

And then Nayeon is slipping into the cushioned seat opposite you, syrupy smile in place on her berry lacquered lips. “Hi!” she chirps, laying a hand on Hoseok’s arm as he sits down beside her. “Sorry we’re late. We, um…” She pauses and shoots Hoseok a conspiratorial look, giggling. “... lost track of the time.”

Your magic flares, hot and bright in your veins, and you know Jin feels it too when he lays a cautionary hand on your knee beneath the table. “We weren’t waiting long,” he says, offering the two a genial smile. He’s perfectly polite as he and Nayeon exchange quick introductions, and gestures toward the assortment of menus on the table as soon as everyone has settled down. “Why don’t we order some wine to start?”

“Oh, that’s a splendid idea! Isn’t that a splendid idea, Hoseok?” Nayeon turns to the auburn-haired man beside her, and you do the same, gaze landing on Hoseok for the first time tonight. He’s in an all black ensemble, sharp jacket layered over a silky black shirt, the top buttons loosened to bare a tantalizing sliver of golden skin. His auburn hair is parted, a stray lock falling across his forehead, and you shiver when you realize he’s staring right back at you with dark, unreadable eyes.

At the sound of Nayeon’s voice, Hoseok seems to snap out of his trance, his expression smoothing out as he plasters on a smile. “Take a look at the menu,” he says, picking up the leather-bound book and offering it to her. “Dinner’s on me.”

You blink. “We can’t let you do that, Hobi.”

“Let me pick up at least part of the tab,” Jin adds, already reaching for his wallet. “I’m no corporate bigshot, but I do well enough for myself.”

“No need to be modest,” you chime in, nudging him playfully. “Weren’t you just telling me about your new restaurant opening on the way over? Next week, right?”

Jin’s ears redden as all the attention is turned onto him. “Next week, yeah.”

“That’s amazing!” Nayeon chirps, pressing closer to Hoseok. “We’ll have to check it out sometime. Maybe a date night, right, darling?”

Hoseok busies himself with rearranging his cutlery, swapping the knife and fork around. “Right—sure. If we ever make it up to Seoul, we’ll, uh… we’ll definitely stop by. Congratulations, man.”

The conversation continues. A server stops by to take your wine order, and Jin decides on a moderately priced bottle of cabernet sauvignon. Glasses are brought over, and wine is poured. Hoseok finishes his quickly and pours himself another, and though his wolf metabolism prevents him from getting drunk off of regular wine, you know that he’s a bit of a lightweight and tends to avoid drinking heavily no matter what the beverage. He’s drinking with a purpose tonight, and you’re beyond grateful when Jin pipes up with yet another story when the conversation lulls.

“And then I found out that the oven was on the whole time! Adam would probably let the entire apartment go up in flames just to spite me—I should watch my back.”

“Or, you know, just watch the oven more closely,” you tease. “I’ve seen your place, Jin—it’s a complete fire hazard. It’s a wonder it hasn’t burned to the ground already.”

Jin sniffs. “You’re exaggerating. Stop making me look bad.”

“You make yourself look bad,” you retort, laughing when his lower lip juts out into a pout.

Across the table, Hoseok clears his throat. “Speaking of fire hazards—did I ever tell you about the time {Name} set me on fire?”

“I did no such thing!” you protest, reaching over to slap his arm. “I mean, okay, maybe a little bit, but that was one time! And you were barely singed!”

Hoseok snorts out a laugh. “Barely singed? I couldn’t sit properly for a week.”

“Oh please, that’s a lie and you know it!”

Nayeon interrupts your conversation with a loud huff, setting her wineglass down with enough force to thud against the veined marble tabletop. “Do one of you maybe want to fill us in on the joke here?”

Abashed, you glance back at Hoseok, watching as his smile slowly fades back into the careful, neutral expression he’s worn all evening. “Sorry,” you murmur. “It’s an old story from when we were kids—when we first met, actually. We were seven years old, and it was the second day of school. I didn’t have a very good handle on my magic yet, and accidentally set Hoseok’s tail on fire during recess.”

“I preferred to run around in my wolf form back then,” Hoseok further elaborates. “There was a big field out behind the school—remember that, {Name}?”

You nod. “Of course. It went right up to the very edge of the woods. And if you kept going and went far enough, you reached the old wooden bridge.”

Hoseok is smiling again, soft and fond. “That thing was a death trap.”

“But the teachers could never keep us away,” you say, grinning at him.

“All right,” Nayeon interrupts again, sniffing disdainfully. “Enough about the old days—I think it’s time to talk about the present. And more importantly, the future.” She sighs happily and props her chin up in her palm, ensuring that the delicate golden band on her ring finger is on full display, the metal glimmering in the warm light. “You’re both invited to the wedding, of course. And I never did properly thank you for the flowers today, {Name}!”

Her words seem to come as a surprise to Hoseok, who straightens up in his seat. “Flowers? You visited Hellebore today?”

“Of course I did!” Nayeon hides a giggle behind a manicured hand. “I wouldn’t even think of trusting anyone else with my bouquet.”

Hoseok’s gaze skitters over to you, awash with concern and tinged with apology, but you ignore him in favor of forcing your expression into something that’s meant to be a smile. Yet no matter how much you strain your cheeks and stretch your lips, it feels—and looks, you’re sure—far more like a grimace.

“I’m happy to do it,” you lie, your teeth gritted and tight. “I don’t mind it one bit.”

///

“So. That was just as awkward as promised.”

You and Jin are walking back to Hellebore, leaving behind the bustling downtown area for the darker, quieter streets of your neighborhood. Your companion’s hair is tinged orange in the glow from the streetlamps, and you can only chuckle humorlessly when he turns to you and raises his eyebrows.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I was duly warned,” Jin agrees.

A car drives by, the headlights throwing Jin’s profile into stark relief. His expression is solemn but he doesn’t say anything else and neither do you. The remainder of the walk passes in silence, broken only by the occasional strain of conversation from passersby and the low drone of late night traffic. You reach Hellebore with no incidents, and you muffle a yawn as Jin steps into the wardrobe to go back to Seoul.

Just before he shuts the door behind him, he shoots you a meaningful glance over his shoulder. “You should tell him how you feel, you know. He deserves to know. And you… you deserve to be happy.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t need him to. Long after he’s gone, his remark echoes in your head, and no matter what, you simply cannot seem to shake it.

///

It’s been years since you’ve last gone to the old bridge, but after last night’s conversation you find yourself pulled back, lured by the promise of memories of a kinder time. The forest beyond the field hasn’t changed much since your school days, and neither, you realize, has the bridge itself. It still stands tall, proudly spanning the steep ravine that your teachers warned you about, the rickety wood splitting apart at the seams and overgrown with lichen and climbing ivy. Far below, the white-capped river rushes by on its long, turbulent journey to the sea.

Carefully, you step onto the bridge—first one foot, then the other. The energy in the air shifts as soon as your feet leave the loamy earth, finding traction instead on hewn wood, and you sigh as your fingertips brush against the railing. The magic here is an old magic—different from the ancient magic that dwells in places like the werewolves’ clearing and the realms of the fae. The low thrum of it fills the air and seeps into your veins, quickening your pulse and prickling your skin.

“I thought you might be here.” The voice comes from your left, barely audible over the rush of the river.

“You thought right,” you reply, stepping forward until you’re toeing the railing and leaning over to stare down into the swirling, eddying waters below.

Hoseok joins you at the edge. His profile is stark against the leafy green backdrop, and for a few moments, all is still. Then: “I’m really sorry about last night.”

The apology hangs in the silence for a few moments before fading into the sound of churning water and wind whistling through the trees. You suck in a deep breath, oxygen swelling your lungs until you can hold it in no longer, before letting it escape in a resigned sigh.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Hoseok.”

“Maybe not. But I want to.” He shoots you a sidelong glance. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

You raise a brow. “Make it up to me? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“Anything you want.” Hoseok smiles crookedly, but you can’t quell the tumult brewing in your belly.

“What do you want, Hobi?”

His smile fades. “I—” He stops and shakes his head, auburn hair flying. “It doesn’t matter what I want. This is about you.”

You gaze up at him, taking in the sharp cut of his jawline and the straight angle of his nose. Your eyes trail along the smooth slope of his rounded cheeks and the soft curve of his mouth, lingering on the little mole atop his upper lip.

And then you reach out and take his hand, savoring the way his fingers immediately, comfortably settle into the spaces between your own. “Why don’t we head down to the river?” you ask. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been, and I’ve missed it.”

Hoseok’s expression softens, a glimmer of something bright shining in his amber-flecked irises. Gently, he tugs on your hand, taking the lead as you leave the bridge behind and head north in search of the sloping path that will take you down and into the ravine that houses the riverbed. You chance a few glances over the treacherous edge, watching the water froth and tumble over the rocks.

“You know, this seems a lot more dangerous now than it did back then,” you muse. “I see why our teachers were always trying to keep us away.”

“We were kids back then,” Hoseok says, grinning. “We thought we were invincible. Nothing could touch us.”

“Simpler times,” you agree with a laugh. “I set your tail on fire, you cried—”

“—and then we became lifelong friends,” Hoseok finishes, joining in your mirth. “Easy-peasy.”

Together, you locate the path down to the ravine. The descent is easier than it was back then, your longer limbs extending your reach, but you’re grateful for Hoseok’s steadying hand all the same. He carefully guides you around the biggest rocks and tree roots, pulling you closer when you lose your footing near the bottom. His fingers remain twined with yours even after you’ve safely arrived at the riverbed, stepping across stones that have been worn smooth and warmed by the sun. You slip off your shoes, letting them dangle from your free hand, and Hoseok does the same.

Sunlight glitters off the water, throwing a thousand refractive diamonds across the surface, but when you dip your toes in you find that it’s cold as a mountain spring in autumn. That doesn’t stop Hoseok from bending down to splash you though, and you shriek in surprise before retaliating with a silent spell that sends icy water splattering across the faded denim of his jeans.

“That’s not fair!” he protests. “You can’t use magic!”

“I’m just using every resource available to me,” you reply with a sly grin, sending a swelling wave of water toward him with a lazy twist of your hand.

From beneath his drenched hair, Hoseok raises a challenging brow in your direction. “Oh yeah?”

Before you can even blink, he’s shrugging off his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head, baring a taut, honeyed abdomen and toned arms. Tossing the discarded clothes onto the bank, he unfastens his belt and lets that drop as well, fixing you with a crooked little smirk all the while. The muscles in his torso ripple.

And then he’s shifting—limbs elongating and reddish-brown fur sprouting from his skin. His remaining clothing rips under the strain of the transformation, floating downstream in tattered shreds, but you don’t pay them any mind. No matter how many times you’ve watched Hoseok shift, you’ll never quite get used to it. He hunches over, more beast than man at this point, his chest rumbling. And before you know it—before you can even pinpoint exactly when the transformation is complete—he’s standing before you as a massive russet wolf, baring ferociously sharp teeth that you know could easily tear a man limb from limb.

His eyes, however, remain the same—warm, molten brown flecked with amber and gold, a devilish twinkle lurking in their depths. You cock your head to the side in a silent challenge, and swear that the wolf in front of you grins before pouncing forward, landing in the river with an enormous splash that leaves you thoroughly drenched.

“Now we’re both soaked!” you cry in between giggles, watching as Hoseok emerges from the water, his fur dampened black and dripping. “How is this a win for you?”

Hoseok rears back and lets loose a triumphant howl, shaking himself out and further drenching you with the spray of water from his coat. You squeal and back up several steps, batting him away, but Hoseok just presses closer and nuzzles his wet face into the crook of your neck. His body heaves with every breath, flaring hot against your skin, and for a few long moments, you simply stand there, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as icy water rushes past your ankles.

After what feels like an eternity, you step back, releasing Hoseok and staring up into his face. Even in his wolf form, he towers over you, and you reach up to stroke his muzzle tenderly before bopping him on the nose. “Come on,” you murmur. “Let’s dry off.”

Hoseok lets out a low rumble of agreement, and together, you make your way back to shore. You fold up his discarded clothing while he trots off to locate his shredded jeans, quickly finding them caught between some rocks and carrying the denim tatters back over to you in his teeth. Shaking your head, you add it to the growing pile and lay a hand atop it. Heat concentrates in your fingertips, mingling with the magic running through your veins. Stitch by stitch, his jeans repair themselves, drying in the process. Hoseok bumps your cheek with his nose in gratitude and darts off to change, and you dry your own clothes while you wait.

When Hoseok returns, he’s reverted to his human form, fully dressed and raking a hand through his damp hair. “Thanks for drying these off,” he says, flashing you a sheepish grin. “And for fixing my pants. Again.”

“Mending charms are easy,” you reply, and it’s the truth. Over the many years you’ve known Hoseok, you’ve mended his clothing countless times—from the accidental transformations in his early years, before he could control it, to the calculated ones as he got older. Hoseok doesn’t shift terribly often nowadays, but on occasion he still goes out to stretch his muscles and hunt with his pack. His grandfather, in particular, always made the time to take him hunting at least once a month. You wonder if he’s gone since he passed, but decide not to ask.

“Should we go see the Towers?” you ask instead.

“Lead the way,” he agrees, falling into step beside you as you head downstream. The ravine walls are higher here, decorated with gnarled roots and rocky outcrops that obscure the periwinkle sky and cast long shadows across the ground. Cairns begin to crop up on both sides of the river—each tower of stones carefully and deliberately stacked. They’re small and scattered at first, but gradually become taller and more frequent until you’re nearly surrounded by a forest of stone. The air grows noticeably heavier—the magic more potent. It almost feels as if electricity is dancing across your skin, the sparks sinking into your pores and melding with your soul.

Hoseok feels it too, if the look of awe in his eyes is any indication. “I can’t believe I’d nearly forgotten about this place,” he marvels, running a finger across one of the stacked stones. “Do you feel that? The magic?” Then he chuckles. “Wait, of course you do. What am I talking about?”

You smile softly, tracing the path his fingertips leave behind. “Yeah, Hobi. I feel it.”

The topmost stones are almost out of your reach now. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a gray pebble about the size of your palm—a near perfect disc veined with white. Gently, you place it atop the cairn closest to you, watching it glint in the sunlight for a moment before turning to your companion.

“Well?”

Ancient legend dictates that as long as an offering is left, one may take a stone from the Towers. You and Hoseok have each acquired a rather sizable collection during your childhood years, lured by the promise that the stones will bring about good fortune and happiness.

“I forgot to bring something,” Hoseok admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “But I can pick one out for you. Hang on…” He hums thoughtfully as he scans the towering pillars, tapping his chin until he alights on one in particular, plucking up a stone that’s been worn smooth, burnished orange and marbled with ivory and copper. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” you reply, admiring the way the marbled surface glitters in the sun.

Hoseok takes your hand and places the stone gently in your palm. “It’s yours.”

Then he’s off—stepping over a fallen log to admire another tower, brushing a curious finger across a moss-covered rock before glancing over his shoulder at you. “Coming?”

You nod, tucking his gift away safely in your pocket. Together, you carve out a path amongst the towering cairns, clambering over river rocks and brushing aside the dense undergrowth. The path opens up again gradually, revealing the burbling water to your left and the steep ravine wall to your right. The river is calmer here—clear enough to see all the way to the bottom where shimmering, silvery fish dart about. A low, flat rock juts out into the water a short ways away, and Hoseok strides over to plop atop it, gesturing for you to join him.

“This is nice,” he sighs once you’ve made yourself comfortable by his side. “The fresh air is doing me a world of good. I’ve been cooped up at the office for so long, I swear I almost forgot what trees smell like.”

“You’re more than welcome to sniff around the shop if you ever need a reminder,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Better yet, I’ll bring you a plant for your office. Spruce up the place a little bit.”

“That sounds great, actually,” he admits with a chuckle. “I don’t have your green thumb, though. I’ll probably end up accidentally killing it.”

“Something low maintenance, then,” you promise. “A succulent, maybe. When should I bring it by?”

Hoseok’s expression sombers. “You can always stop by tomorrow after the hearing.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach. The Ministry—the overarching government body that dictates all Shadowfolk affairs—summons every pack alpha for a confirmation hearing when they first come into power. “They’re holding the hearing? Already?”

He nods. “The Ministry’s summoned me for tomorrow morning. First item on their schedule, I’m pretty sure.” A resigned sigh escapes his lips, dissipating into mist on the air. “And there’s a party at JungTech HQ afterward. You know. So my dad can officially hand the reins over.”

“The most powerful man in Gwangju,” you murmur, thinking back to Lisa’s words.

Hoseok lets out a derisive snort. “Yeah, right. The most powerful man, beholden to his dad, the Council, and the entire fucking Ministry. It doesn’t matter what I want to do. Never has.”

It’s the second time he’s dismissed his feelings, and as much as you want to ask what it is he truly wants, you find that the words are stuck in your throat, your mouth suddenly as dry as the desert on a cloudless day. Instead, you lay a silent hand over his, feeling his warmth seep up into your palm.

“Hey.” Hoseok doesn’t tear his gaze away from the sky, watching a flock of birds fly overhead. “Yesterday, when Nayeon said she’d stopped by… did she say anything to you?”

The sound of her name leaving his lips leaves a sour taste on your tongue, but you swallow it down. “Not really,” you tell him. “She looked at some flowers and invited me to dinner. Simple as that.”

Hoseok nods slowly, lips pursed. “Was Jin already there when she came?”

You blink. “Jin? Oh, no—no, he wasn’t. I texted him after Nayeon left.”

“Ah.”

“I’m glad he was free, though.” You stare down into the water, where a curious fish swims in and out of the shadow you cast. “I’m honestly not sure who I could’ve invited if he hadn’t been available. Plus, it’s been ages since I’ve had dinner with him, and it’s been a few months since you’ve seen him too, right? I’m really happy it worked out.” You’re rambling now, but you can’t stop yourself. Hoseok has become eerily still, lost in introspection, and you feel obligated to fill the silence.

“You two make sense, you know.” Hoseok’s voice comes suddenly. “As a couple. Both witches—it makes a lot of sense.”

You peer over at him, eyes widening at his assumption. “We—we’re not actually together, Jin and I. We’re just friends.”

Hoseok straightens at that, his gaze flitting down to meet yours. “Really?”

“Really.”

A beat of silence. Hoseok looks like he wants to say something else, but a quiet buzz from his pocket stops him in his tracks. His mouth clamps shut as he checks his phone, teeth clicking together, and you can tell from the sudden tension in his jaw that it isn’t good news.

“Do you have to head back?”

He nods stiffly, silent apology written all over his face. “Work calls.”

You offer him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow after your hearing.”

He nods again and turns to leave. Before he can take too many steps, though, you call him back, reaching into your pocket to pull out the stone he’d gifted you earlier.

“Take this,” you murmur, pressing it into his hands. “I’m pretty sure you need it more than I do right now.”

Hoseok’s fingers curl protectively around the stone, holding on like it’s his only remaining lifeline. “Thanks.”

///

Downtown Gwangju is a monochrome forest of towering glass and steel, clamorous and unchecked by nature, proudly defiant in the face of the earth mother herself. The sidewalks are awash with people rushing back from their lunch break, forcing you to dodge around several businessmen too absorbed in their phones. Just as you are finding your footing again, a hapless intern carrying a tray of coffee cups rushes past, nearly crashing into you.

“Oh, shi—sorry! Sorry, oh, jeez. Are you okay?”

You wave off his apology with a smile, taking in the ill fit of his suit and the messy knot of his tie. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, reaching out to help him steady the tray in his hands. A stabilizing spell—silently cast, the magic pulsing through your fingertips—should be enough to get him back to his office with no additional mishaps. You wonder if he’ll notice that his tray is suddenly more well-balanced, or that his hands have steadied.

But then again, you suppose it doesn’t really matter whether he does or not.

Somehow, someway, you make it to JungTech without running into anyone else. The receptionist recognizes you immediately and points you toward the elevator with a smile, and you thank her as you press the up button. It doesn’t take long to arrive, and you take a deep breath as you step inside, staring at your reflection in the mirrored walls.

All right? Bast queries, stirring awake in your mind.

You release the breath that you’d been holding in a long whoosh. Yeah. I’m all right.

The doors open on the top floor, and straight away, you are assailed by a cacophony of sounds. Scattered conversations and laughter intermingle with the clinking of champagne flutes. There are at least fifty people scattered around the open space that lies between the elevator and the glass-fronted CEO’s office at the very back—the office that bears Hoseok’s name on the door. There’s no sign of the man himself, but you have no doubt that he’s nearby. This entire party is a celebration for him, after all.

The elevator doors begin to close, and you quickly reach out to stop them, stepping out before it can protest at your dawdling. A young man in a pristine white shirt materializes on your right with a tray full of champagne flutes, and you pluck one off with a murmur of thanks. Sipping slowly, you wander around the perimeters of the party, listening to the lively chatter. Across the room, you spot Lisa, returning her friendly wave with one of your own.

“Hello, {Name}.”

The deep, familiar voice has you whirling around in an instant, head bowing in automatic deference. “Mr. Jung,” you murmur, not quite daring to look him in the eye. “It’s been a while.”

Hoseok’s father inclines his head in acknowledgment, salt-and-pepper hair gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights. No doubt he was a handsome man in his younger days, but the salt in his hair has steadily overtaken the pepper in the last few years, the stern lines around his mouth deepening.

“I didn’t know you would be joining us today,” he says cordially. “But then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised after all these years. Have you been here long?”

“Not long. Five minutes, maybe.” Beneath his piercing gaze, you feel like a small child again. Quickly, you scramble for something else to say, gesturing around the sleek glass interior of the office. “This is a lovely party. You must be so proud.”

Another nod. “I wasn’t sure that Hoseok was going to step up,” he admits. “I had my reservations about whether or not he would accept his duties as a Jung, but he has, and I’m pleased that he did. It’s no easy feat, running this company and leading the city’s pack. But I’ve served my time, just as my father did before me.” His gaze flits down to meet yours suddenly, and you find that you can’t read the emotion swimming in them. “I believe I spotted you at his funeral the other day, did I not?”

You nod, resisting the urge to take a sip from your nearly empty champagne glass as your cheeks warm under the scrutiny. “I was, yes. I’m very grateful to have had the opportunity to pay my respects. He was a great man.”

“That, he was,” Mr. Jung agrees. “Hoseok takes after him in many ways. My father—as great as he was—always had a soft spot for the boy. Coddled him a bit too much.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Jung, I think that’s a grandfather’s job,” you reply with a smile.

That earns you a smile in return, the lines around his mouth easing. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Hoseok’s father excuses himself to talk to the other guests, and you set off in search of Hoseok himself. You can feel his aura somewhere nearby, strong and steady, but the room is large enough that you cannot pinpoint his exact location. Not for the first time, you curse the fact that you don’t have a werewolf’s sharp sense of smell. No doubt it could easily be as cumbersome as it is helpful, but it would certainly help you right now.

Turning a corner, you are about to continue lamenting your average olfactory system when you suddenly catch a glimpse of familiar auburn hair, afloat in a sea of black suits. Dodging around a sharply dressed businesswoman and ducking beneath a waiter’s serving tray clears your path to Hoseok, and you’re milliseconds away from stepping forward to greet him when you feel it.

There’s an energy emanating from Hoseok, the likes of which you’ve never felt from him before. It’s heavy and commanding and so potent that the air is laden with it, and a cursory glance at the people surrounding him reveals that they feel it too—their gazes lowered, voices hushed and respectful. In his fitted black suit and emerald green shirt, he looks every bit the alpha he is, and you are quickly realizing that you’re not immune to the power radiating off of him. The Hoseok standing before you isn’t the same Hoseok whose tail you set on fire all those years ago. Far from it. The revelation is somehow simultaneously terrifying and thrilling, and your heart leaps into your throat when you notice that he’s waving you over.

As if compelled, you comply, striding forward until you’re standing before him. “Hi,” your murmur, suddenly feeling shy.

Hoseok’s face splits into a smile. “Hi yourself,” he says, and you would have laughed if your insides didn’t feel like they were about to burst.

“I, um. I brought you your succulent,” you tell him, reaching into your bag. There’s a tiny potted jade plant inside, packaged neatly into a box that you open up and present to him. “It’s jade. Easy to keep alive, and easy to propagate too, if you’re inclined.”

Hoseok accepts your gift, his smile growing as he admires the plump green leaves. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

You shrug and wave off his gratitude, fiddling to clasp your bag shut. “So,” you start, glancing around and gnawing on your bottom lip, completely missing the way Hoseok’s eyes darken as he follows the movement. “It looks like everything went well at the Ministry. Your dad is pleased.”

Hoseok hums, low in his throat. “You talked to him?”

“Yeah, just now.”

“I see.”

He looks like he wants to say something more, but he’s interrupted by a blur of motion and a shrill cry of his name. A moment later, Nayeon is at his side, latching onto his arm and batting her lashes, adorned in a form-fitting red dress and golden jewelry.

“Hoseok! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!” Then her gaze alights on you, eyes going wide as if she’s only just noticed your presence. “{Name}, oh my goodness. I almost didn’t see you there, hi!”

“Hello, Nayeon,” you grit out, unable to hide your scowl. You wonder if she spotted it before you hid it behind a large sip of champagne.

Luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice. Her attention refocuses onto a spot behind you, and you watch as her expression lights up, delight etching across her features. “Mr. Jung!” she exclaims. “There’s my favorite future father-in-law. Come and join us—it’s not a party without you.”

Hoseok’s father chuckles lightly, coming forward to stand beside you. “Long time no see,” he jokes, nodding in your direction. “And Nayeon—hello. How are you enjoying the party?”

“Oh, I’m having the loveliest time,” she chirps, simpering up at Hoseok. “How could I not be, when my fiancé is here with me?” Then she smiles—her lips painted the same shade of red as her dress. “But I’m sure I’m nowhere near as happy as you are. You must be beyond excited to spend some quality time with your wife after being busy for so long.”

“I am,” Mr. Jung admits. The severity in his features softens as he seeks out his wife, standing across the room surrounded by friends and extended family. “I’m a very lucky man to have a woman like her.”

Nayeon giggles. “And I’m a lucky woman to have a man like your son. Isn’t that right, darling?”

She tilts her head to look up at Hoseok, who blinks twice in rapid succession, his throat bobbing. “Right,” he says, his voice raspy. “The luckiest.”

And as you turn to engage Mr. Jung in conversation once more, you miss the way his gaze lingers on you.

///

Tuesdays at Hellebore are for brewing. You save bottling for Thursdays—giving your potions and other concoctions ample time to simmer and set—but today, you are hunched over the stove with all four burners turned to different temperature settings, watching over your pots so that they don’t boil over.

A cursory glance out the window tells you that it’s well into the afternoon, the pastel blue sky littered with trailing clouds lit hazy and golden in the sun. You’ve been in the kitchen since early morning, and, desperate for a breath of fresh air, you crack the window open and inhale deeply. Then you turn back to the stove, giving one pot a stir and adding a pinch of burdock root to another.

Wandering downstairs, you head to the greenhouse. The sunlight is brighter here, the air more humid. Inhaling deeply, you breathe in the scent of the hundreds of plants growing inside, before heading for the laburnum tree in the far corner. Carefully, you brush aside the cascading golden flowers, about to gather the dried ones that have fallen to the dirt when there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’m sorry, we’re close—” you say, stopping when you recognize the head of coppery red hair in the window. “Lisa?” Confused, you open the door and let her inside. “What brings you here today?”

“You need to go to Hoseok, now,” she says, foregoing any preambles. “He’s… well, you’ll see. Nayeon’s there right now, but she’s not helping the situation, and...” She sighs. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can help him now.”

All at once, your stomach drops to your toes. “What’s wrong with Hoseok?” you demand. “Is he hurt?”

Lisa shakes her head, red hair flying. “No, he’s fine. I don’t know how much longer that’ll last, though.”

The cryptic response sends your heart into overdrive, pounding against your ribcage like a doomsday drum. Striding over to the bay window, you wake Bast from his nap in a slanted ray of sunlight, scratching behind his black ears and watching as his golden eyes flicker open, pupils going wide when he senses your turmoil.

What is it?

Hoseok, you reply shortly. Beneath your touch, Bast’s ears perk up.

What do you need?

You swallow, hard, and suck in a deep breath. I’m going to open a portal.

It’s a dangerous feat, and both you and Bast know it. Opening a portal requires an immense amount of energy, and maintaining one long enough to travel through is a risk to even the most experienced witches. You’ve heard horror stories of spliced limbs and paralysis, and in some cases, even death.

But for Hoseok, you’re willing to risk it all.

“Lisa,” you say, grabbing your purse and striding back to the front door of the shop. “Can you lock up once I’m gone?”

She nods nervously. “Of course.”

You incline your head in silent thanks. At your feet, Bast is slinking continuous figure-eights around your ankles, betraying his worry at the task ahead. Your own heart feels ready to spring out from your ribcage and onto the sun-drenched floor, but you swallow down your nerves and look down at your familiar once more. Ready? you ask.

Ready, Bast confirms. Be careful.

I will.

Closing your eyes, you begin to visualize Hoseok’s front door, focusing on every little detail you can remember. There’s the scuff in the black paint from when he first moved in and accidentally scraped a table leg against it. There’s the bronze knocker that always hangs slightly askew. The image builds slowly in your mind, coming together like the broken pieces of a puzzle.

The air around you is suddenly much warmer than before, an invisible force sapping away at your strength and weakening your legs. Bast’s energy melds with yours, but it’s barely enough to keep you on your feet. Exhaustion seeps into your bones and steals the oxygen from your lungs. You gasp, chest heaving.

I don’t think it’s going to work. Bast’s voice is a faint whisper in the back of your mind.

It will, you hiss. It has to.

The front door of your shop is beginning to glow white, becoming hazy and amorphous as the edges begin to blur. You spot a splash of black paint coming through the fog, followed by a bronze knocker. A matching handle appears a moment later, growing out of tendrils of mist and solidifying before your eyes.

Sucking in a deep breath, you reach forward to grab it. Slowly, you turn until you can turn no longer.

And then you step through.

The first thing you hear is a low, cavernous rumble—deep enough that you feel it reverberating through your very bones. Then your surroundings begin to come into focus. You’re in Hoseok’s entryway, all your limbs thankfully intact. The relief you feel at your success is quickly eclipsed by worry though, when you see Hoseok himself on the far side of the living room. The look in his brown eyes is nothing short of wild, his white shirt unbuttoned to nearly his navel and his auburn hair sweaty and disheveled.

“H-Hobi?” Your voice is no more than a breath, dissipating in the open air.

“Hoseok.” The new voice has you whirling. Nayeon is pressed against the wall opposite him, her expression harried. “Hoseok, please—“

“Get out,” Hoseok growls, his voice dangerously low. He’s bristling with the same energy as before, the same energy you felt back at JungTech—but this time it’s enough to fill the room and spill out the opened door and into the hallway. You can feel it pulsing against your skin, hot and electric, and know that Nayeon is even more affected from the way her shoulders slouch, her eyes dropping to the floor when he snarls. “Get out, now.”

She does. Nayeon turns on her heel and dashes out, slamming the door behind her and leaving you alone with Hoseok. His eyes are alight with something more wolf than man, his chest heaving with uneven breaths, and it’s all you can do not to shrink back when he turns his full attention onto you. Even from across the room, you can smell the liquor spilled across the coffee table in a dark ooze of fluid, cloying and bitter.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok asks, his voice cracking on the last syllable. “You shouldn’t be here right now, {Name}.”

“Lisa told me to come,” you whisper. “You’ve been pushing yourself too much, Hoseok.”

Hoseok shakes his head and rakes a frazzled hand through his hair. “You need to leave,” he grunts. Shakily, he reaches out to right the overturned liquor bottle, the pad of his thumb skimming across the shattered edge.

“Let me do that,” you tell him, making to step forward, but Hoseok stops you with a raised hand and a low growl that stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he hisses. “Don’t you dare come any closer to me.”

You shake your head. “Hobi, it’s obvious you’ve been drinking. Let me help you.”

“No!” he snarls, flinching back when you take a step forward. “You need to leave. It’s… it’s dangerous for you here.”

“Dangerous?” Your voice is reduced to a whisper at the severity of his reaction, the energy in the air intensifying until it’s almost unbearable. “Why?”

“Because I’m in heat!” Hoseok spits. He sucks in a deep breath, the air whistling between his teeth, before he lets out an agonized moan and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m in heat,” he repeats, reticence dripping from every syllable. “I can’t even fucking think straight, and I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you if you stay. So please, {Name}. Please go.”

“But Nayeon…” you begin, wavering when his eyes flash darkly at the mention of her name. “Or Lisa… I can call her, maybe—”

“No!”

You jump, startled at the volume of his shout.

“No,” Hoseok repeats, softer this time. “Don’t. I don’t want them. I’m—I’m fine.”

The sticky humidity and the pulsating energy flowing through the room tell you otherwise. “You’re clearly not,” you tell him gently, taking another step toward him. “Let me call Lisa. Or maybe one of the other girls in the pack, I’m sure someone can help y—”

“I don’t want Lisa.” Defeat suffuses his tone, his eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t want any of them. I want—fuck.” Hoseok groans and lets his head fall back against the wall, the dull thunk echoing in the stillness. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I want. You need to leave, {Name}. You’re only going to be in danger if you stay.”

For the second time that afternoon, only one word springs to mind. “Why?”

Hoseok groans again. “Because I’m weak,” he mutters hoarsely. “Because I’m weak, and I’m not thinking straight, and if you come any closer to me, I won’t be able to stop myself from pinning you against that wall right there and having my way with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. The rippling energy in the air is almost oppressive in its strength, and only grows when Hoseok’s gaze finally lands on you, his pupils blown out and blacker than the night.

“Go,” he entreaties, dragging a frazzled hand through his hair. “Please, {Name}.”

You suck in a deep breath, your lungs swelling and expanding with the newfound oxygen. Then, ever so slowly, you let your gaze flicker up to meet his. “What if I don’t want to?”

Hoseok freezes. Time comes to a standstill, and even the overwhelming energy emanating from him seems to falter. The room is near silent, broken only by your companion’s ragged breathing, his chest heaving beneath the thin white fabric of his shirt. Even from across the room, you can see the sheen of sweat coating his honeyed skin, shining in the light of the setting sun.

“You don’t mean that,” he says at last. “You can’t mean that.”

“I can,” you whisper. “And I do.”

For three agonizingly long seconds, Hoseok remains rooted firmly in place, his throat bobbing harshly. Then, before you can even blink, he’s striding forward—a blur of motion almost too quick for your eyes to follow. He comes to a stop a hair’s breadth from you, one hand reaching up to cup your face delicately, as if you’re made of glass.

“You,” he rasps, “have no idea what you’ve just done.” His thumb traces the swell of your cheek just below your eye, the motion surprisingly tender. Your heart stutters in your chest.

And then he leans down and crushes his mouth to yours.

The rest of the world falls away, dissolving into nothing. Your eyes flutter shut as Hoseok’s hands slide down your sides to curl around your hips, your body melting against his taut frame. He is all you can feel and all you can taste, and you keen helplessly when he grinds against you, his cock hot and hard against your stomach.

The sound seems to awaken something in Hoseok, a cavernous groan erupting from his throat. Pulling away from your mouth, he descends upon the delicate skin of your neck, teeth and tongue blossoming bruises in their wake. Shaky hands find the collar of your shirt, questioning eyes seeking out yours for permission that you happily give. He tugs the garment off almost delicately, his ravenous gaze roving across each bit of newly revealed flesh, and once it’s freed from your head he tosses it aside and sets about doing the same to the rest of your clothing.

Maybe it should feel odd, watching through lidded eyes as Hoseok drops to his knees to pull your jeans down and off your ankles. Maybe you should feel embarrassed, seeing your best friend bury his nose between your legs, delirious bliss etching across his features as he inhales, his strong fingers curling around your thighs to spread you wider. But instead, it feels completely and utterly natural—as if this was always meant to be.

“You smell divine,” Hoseok breathes, slotting himself between your spread thighs and running a fingertip along your lace-covered slit, collecting the considerable slick there and bringing it to his nose. “Fuck, {Name}. Just one whiff, and I can tell that you’re primed and ready for me.”

“Take me, then,” you breathe back shakily, rolling your hips when he slips past the lacy barrier of your panties to find your clit, circling around the sensitive nub until you’re gasping his name.

Hoseok’s gaze darkens to obsidian, his pupils swallowing up the amber-flecked brown of his irises. In one smooth motion, he’s on his feet again, straightening up to his full height as his hands find purchase on your hips. He twirls you around until you’re facing the wall, your palms pressed flat against the woven tapestry hanging there.

“Gorgeous.” A single word, laced with unmistakable awe. Then he’s fumbling with his belt buckle, the metallic clink and tug of a zipper reaching your ears, before he presses against you, clothed chest molding against your bare back. Even through the thin layer of fabric, you can feel the sweltering heat emanating from him, his sweat soaking through the cotton and sticking to your skin. His mouth finds its way to the junction of your neck and shoulder again—teasing at the flesh until you’re quivering—before he begins laying a trail of hot kisses down your spine.

“Wanna fuck you,” Hoseok rasps, tearing your panties away once his lips reach the waistband, the flimsy lace ripped to shreds in his desperate grip. “Want you on your front, want you on your back, want you on my tongue—” His voice drops, rumbling through his chest and sending shivers through your entire body. “Want you. Wanted you for so long.”

And as if to reinforce his words, the velvety head of his cock nestles against the cleft of your backside, hot and slick.

Wordlessly, you arch your back, presenting him with the tempting swell of your rear. A glance over your shoulder reveals the strained clench of his jaw and the bob of his throat, his biceps tensed and his gaze unwavering. His control is undoubtedly dangling by a single thread at this point—a delicate, gossamer thread that’s on the verge of snapping. The delirium of his heat is overtaking his senses, his grip tightening on your hips, and ever so slowly, he begins to press forward until the tip of his thick cock is just beginning to part your walls. Already, the fit borders on excruciating, and your body tenses at the intrusion, stretched to the limit around his thick girth.

Hoseok exhales shakily, his primal instincts warring with his desire to ensure your comfort. Soft lips drop kiss after kiss onto your bare shoulders, your back, your neck—wherever he can reach as he whispers tender praises into your skin. “Breathe, princess,” he encourages lowly. “You can take it—I know you can. You were made for me.”

Obediently, you inhale, focusing on the way your lungs expand and contract as you draw air into them. The pain ebbs away with each breath you take, until all that is left is a low throb of pleasure. Your hips rock back against him, and Hoseok takes it as a sign to push forward once more, parting your walls until he’s fully seated inside you, your body stretched to the limit as you mold around him.

There’s no pain now—only an aching desire for more, more, more. He’s deep enough to reach parts of you that you’ve never been able to explore before—either alone or with other partners—and you moan brokenly when he rolls his hips experimentally. “More, Hoseok,” you whimper. “Please.”

He obliges. One thrust leads into another, the punishing pace he sets fueled by his heady desperation for relief. The full, heavy weight of his cock dragging along your walls ignites every nerve ending in your body, sizzling electricity blazing through your veins. It’s all you can do to plant your palms flat against the tapestried wall, fingers twitching at the woven fabric as Hoseok grabs your hips with enough force to bruise and pulls you back against him in time with his thrusts.

“Look at you,” he says hoarsely. “Love the way you feel, clenching around me like that. My perfect, pretty girl, taking my cock so well. I always knew you were made for me.” He grunts, forehead falling against your back, damp hair matting against your skin as he continues rutting against you. “Always—fuck—knew you were my mate.”

The particularly harsh thrust that follows his raspy declaration sends all coherent thought flying out of your head, taking your surprise along with it. All you can manage is a shuddery whine that vaguely resembles his name, the sound intermingling with the obscene smack of flesh against flesh and the continuous stream of praises Hoseok whispers into your skin.

There’s something building inside you—a dull, throbbing pressure at the point where your body joins with his. He’s still rolling up into you, but each subsequent thrust grows more and more shallow. The realization dawns on your dazed mind all at once, as you feel the growing swell at the base of his cock. Hoseok is rendered near immobile as he finally reaches his high, the entirety of his length sheathed firmly inside your pussy as he spills ropes of white against your fluttering walls. The swelling continues, filling you until you feel fit to burst.

“H-Hoseok,” you gasp. “I can’t. I can’t—you’re going to rip me in half.”

Soothing hands smooth along your sides, warm lips littering kisses onto your bare shoulders. “You can,” he murmurs tenderly. “You were made for me, and I for you. You can take it, princess. I know you can.”

The gentle repetition of his fingertips trailing nonsensical patterns into your skin eases your labored panting somewhat. Beneath his touch, you slowly relax, the pressure in your abdomen abating as his knot begins to subside.

“You did so well.” His voice is no more than a mumble, almost lost in the sweat and slick coating your skin.

You sag against the wall, taking a few moments to catch your breath before slowly easing off of him, the sudden loss leaving your core empty and aching. Gingerly, you turn around to face him, acutely aware of the way your combined juices immediately begin dribbling down your thighs.

“You said I was your mate,” you whisper, almost afraid that the sentiment will disappear if voiced aloud. “Did… did you mean that?”

“Every word,” Hoseok replies, equally soft. “Is that okay?”

A smile blooms across your face. Rising up to your tiptoes, you kiss him again—a soft, reassuring peck that he immediately leans into, seeking out your touch like a flower in the sun. “More than okay,” you breathe, feeling the way his lips stretch upward against yours. “I’m glad, Hobi.”

Hoseok sighs into your mouth, a slow smile settling across his features. “Now it’s your turn,” he says, and in an instant, he’s swept you off your feet, one arm beneath your bent knees and the other around your back. “And I’m planning to take my time with you, princess. You’re not leaving here until I say so.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, crossing your hands at his nape. “Fine by me,” you tell him, earning yourself a wide grin. His lips seek out yours again as he carries you down the darkened hallway and into the shadowy depths of his bedroom, pausing only to nudge the lightswitch on with his elbow. Golden light suffuses the room as he steps forward to lay you on his bed, your back sinking into the plush mattress and dipping further when he joins you. He hovers over you with an arm on either side of your head, and you reach up to trace the vein that lines his biceps with a gentle fingertip, giggling when he gives your bottom lip a punishing nip.

The kiss deepens from there. Hoseok parts your lips and seeks out your tongue with his own, subduing it into compliance. By the time you pull apart, all the oxygen has left your lungs, leaving you flushed and gasping. Hoseok chortles breathlessly and trails down to press a kiss to your navel, before traveling downward until he’s reached your clit. Gently, he wraps his lips around the sensitive nub, rumbling with laughter when you buck against him.

“So needy,” he murmurs. To your displeasure, he straightens back up to kneel between your spread thighs, but your complaint quickly dissolves into thin air when he edges forward until his knee is pressed against your aching clit. Desperate for more friction, you grind against him, your wetness soaking through his jeans in a matter of seconds.

It doesn’t take long for pressure to build up in your belly again, winding tight as a coiled spring. Hoseok is staring down at you, transfixed, and his undivided attention only serves to bring you closer to the edge, teetering on the very brink.

“Look at you.” His voice could almost be described as a purr, if he weren’t so utterly canine in mannerisms and appearance. “Such a greedy little thing, all desperate to get off. You’re making a mess of my new jeans, princess.”

You’re too far gone to care about the teasing lilt that colors his tone. The edge is rapidly approaching, and one last roll of your hips is enough to send you over, your walls convulsing around nothing as you ride out your high.

Hoseok doesn’t wait. In an instant, he’s back between your legs, having moved so quickly you didn’t even see when he’d started or stopped. His tongue darts out to lave at your folds, a growl rumbling through his chest when your hips jump on instinct. Immediately, he tightens his grip, strong arms winding around your thighs and anchoring at your waist to render you helpless in his grasp, only able to take what he sees fit to give.

“How is it that you taste even better than you smell?” Hoseok muses as he leans down to suck your clit into his mouth, lips curling up into a pleased smirk when you gasp out his name. “Cute,” he says, releasing the nub in favor of descending to your drenched entrance instead, flicking his tongue shallowly inside before withdrawing with a chuckle.

“Hoseok—” you begin, only to dissolve into a moan when he sheaths two fingers inside you without any warning, curling them up and in until you’re shaking in his grasp.

“Come for me,” he commands softly. “Go on, let me hear you.”

And you do, chanting his name like a mantra as a wave of pleasure overtakes you. Hoseok’s thumb circles your clit in just the right way to prolong your orgasm, and it isn’t until you’re cringing from overstimulation that he finally relents, descending down to mold his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. His lips part yours, tongue dipping out to explore as he sheds his shirt and shucks off his ruined jeans. His skin, when he presses against you, burns hot as a furnace wherever it touches. Against your stomach, his cock stirs back to life.

He’s gentler this time. Every movement is slow and deliberate and tender as he breaches you, murmuring your name reverentially as he fills you again. Your body bows to his willingly, stretching to accommodate him, and the spike of pleasure that lances through you when he bottoms out is almost enough to send your oversensitive body over the edge again, your walls fluttering around him.

There’s an unmistakable shift in the air when Hoseok starts up a slow rhythm, leaning down to kiss you again. His lips move against yours, soft and tender, before moving past your jugular and down to the crook of your neck, elongated canines scraping against the delicate skin in a silent question. You wind your arms around his neck and nod, giving him his answer. There’s no need for words.

And then his teeth are sinking into the spot he’s so lovingly scoped out, breaking the skin. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, and the pleasure intermingles with the pain of the bite until you are delirious, rendered boneless in his grasp. Hoseok’s hips stutter, his pace growing erratic as he soothes the wound over with his tongue.

You’re prepared for the swelling this time, but the fullness still manages to knock all the air out of your lungs, bordering on painful as his knot grows. Hoseok quells your whimpers with tender kisses, the instinct to comfort his mate paramount even as he paints your walls with ropes of creamy white. He traces a path from your lips down to where he’s marked and claimed you as his, imbuing your skin with a litany of praises that warm you from the inside out.

“My mate,” he murmurs, reverent. “Finally.”

You lean into his touch with a tired smile. “Finally? How long have you wanted this?”

His lips curl into a smile against your clavicle. “Ages. If I’m honest, I think I fell in love with you the day you set my tail on fire when we were kids. It’s always been you, {Name}. Only you.”

You can’t help it—you need to hear it from his mouth again. “You love me?”

Hoseok chuckles. “Of course I do. My tricky little minx—my perfect, pretty mate. I love you more than anything.” One hand reaches up to caress your cheek, running along the tender skin beneath your eye before cupping the back of your head so he can mold his mouth to yours. “Love you more than I can even explain,” he breathes, punctuating each word with a kiss. His hands blaze trails down the slopes of your body until he finally anchors below the crook of your legs. “So why don’t you let me show you instead?”

And he does. Over and over that night, and in the two days of his heat that follow, he shows you exactly how he feels. Propriety is forgotten, left by the wayside with his scorned fiancé and marriage. He is yours, and you are his.

Consequences be damned.

⇢ aftermath.

also set in this universe:

[myg]

6K notes · View notes

artnigth · 3 years

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Migraines Part 2

i made it!! Part 3 tomorrow BABY!! (probably)

MIGRAINES PART 2: Raz was walking all the way back to the Questionable Area, more specifically his family’s camp in the campgrounds. It had been a long day, he agreed to cover Gisu’s afternoon shift since she apparently had an “appointment” or something. Norma and Lizzie kept pestering him to see if Gisu actually had a date of sorts, but he knew as much as they did on that topic so that fun little conversation went nowhere. He was finally able to go home and take a nap, he was ten after all (and very tired). “RAZPUTIN!” A scream coming from above breaking his line of thought. Raising his gaze, Raz saw just as Ford Cruller flew to the spot in front of him. The senior Psyconaut might have been very old, but after Raz had fixed his mind it seemed that the senior was back in his prime. “Your brother needs help.”- the tone of Cruller's voice was concerned but not surprised, neither was Raz. “What are you talking about?” “Your brother is lost in the forest and- “QUEEPIE GOT LOST IN THE FORGETFUL FOREST?!” “Your other brother Razputin. Dion, was it? He got lost in the forest and is having a Psychic overload.”- Ford’s tone was calm but a little tired. “Dion? Having a Psychic overload? No offense agent Cruller but Dion isn’t a Psychic. But I do believe he could have gotten lost in the forgetful forest. Let’s go tell my family to go and search for him.” Both of the Psychonauts ran all the way to the Aquato camp, encountering Agustus at the entrance. “Dad! Dion got lost on the Forgetful Forest, we need to go look for him!”- Raz was tired, his tone was halfhearted and kind of over the whole situation. Agustus’ eyes were wide, he stepped back a little at the sight of Ford Cruller. Ford stayed back for Agustus’ sake, he was clearly not over what had happened and Ford couldn’t blame him at all. “How did Dion get lost in the woods?”- Agustus decided to ignore Ford’s presence focusing on his middle son and the dilemma that had been put into focus. “So that’s where that boy is… His friend came here a couple of hours ago and both her, Frazie and your mother have been looking for him since.”- Agustus sounded tense, but neither of the Psychonauts minded. “Friend? Dion has friends?”- Raz was a little surprised but not too much. “Yeah, that was Frazie’s reaction as well. Let me call them, I’m pretty sure they’re gonna be happy to finally find out where he is.” . “HE WHAT?!”- Donatella did NOT sound happy about finding out where her oldest son had been all this time, scaring her children and husband even if just a little. Frazie, Donatella, Raz, Agustus, and Ford were now standing at the entrance of the Forgetful Forest, with Dion’s “friend” not being there yet. “UNBELIEVABLE. I THOUGHT WE HAD TAUGHT THAT BOY BETTER THAN TO GO INTO THE WOODS ALONE! IF YOU FOUND HIM WHY DIDN’T YOU DRAG HIM BACK, FORD?!”- Donatella kept rambling for a while her temper getting worse with each word. “That’s what I’m trying to explain, Dion seems to be having some sort of Psychic overload. His abilities being so overwhelming to his mind that he can’t control what he does. I had similar experiences when I was a young Psychic, everything was to much to deal with.”- Ford was still standing at a distance from the family, his voice calm but still concerned. “FRAZIE!! DID YOU FIND HIM?!”- a voice was heard from high into the sky. A figure suddenly falling from the sky on a skateboard and landing between Ford and the Aquatos. It was Gisu on top of her skateboard, who stepped off to be at the same level as everyone else. “Gisu?! Aren’t you supposed to be at an appointment??”- Razputin sounded ofended and blindsided. “Appoinment? I never said that.”- Gisu was clearly confused on that topic. “Adam said you had an appointment and that he needed someone to cover your shift, were you here all the time?” “Yeah… I just told Adam I was leaving early, I never said anything about an appointment.” “But… But… You know what, nevermind.”- Raz sounded defeated, Norma and Lizzie were right, and he hated to admit it. And a possible date with his brother out of all people, ugh. “So… did you found Dion, it’s been hours…” “Agent Ford did, Dion’s apparently having a psychic overload in the forest. So we are going to start a search party into the forest.”- Frazie’s tone was her typical sarcastic annoyance but concern was still heard as a shadow in her voice. “Ok, I’ll go high to try and spot him from above.”- Gisu sounded a little desperate to find Dion clearly concerned. But she was still her determined and confident self. She stepped on her skateboard and suddenly she was gone, flying into the sky. The rest of the Aquatos, and Ford separated into the forest to look for Dion. Raz and Ford went north, meanwhile, Donatella and Agustus went east, Frazie stayed back to look after the kids and just in case Dion found a way back to the camp. . . . . .

Gisu was hovering above the Forgetful Forest scanning the area below as well as she could. She was looking for that dorky acrobat that she had gotten to know for the past two months, wondering how could he had managed to hide this type of issue long enough to have such a breakdown. Throwing agent Ford from the middle of the woods all the way to the campgrounds wasn’t a small action, levitating someone that far was impressive for someone who has repressed their powers for as long as Dion has. Her thoughts were interrupted when she got close to losing her balance and falling. A force trying to push her away from an exact spot in the forest, a small clear in the forest where there was a boulder. Trees were being pushed so hard away from that spot that some were being uprooted from the ground. Carefully Gisu did her best to go as close as she could in her skateboard, eventually she had to descend to the ground since she couldn’t move forward anymore. Gisu moved forward slowly, every step felt like if she was pushing a boulder that was getting heavier and heavier with each step. By the time Gisu had gotten to the boundaries of the clear, she had to hold on to a tree or else she would have been thrown away. Looking at the boulder she could see a familiar figure sitting in front of it, with his knees covering his face and his hair being an unrecognizable mess. There was Dion, shaking and sobbing in front of that boulder. Gisu was stunned. What happened to him?! Is he okay?! “Dion?!”- Gisu’s voice echoed through clear, her tone concerned. “GO AWAY!”- Dion’s voice roared into Gisu’s ears, almost deafening the girl. “You need to calm down, you’re destroying the forest!” “GISU YOU NEED TO LEAVE, I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU!”- misery emanated from the boy, in all of his seventeen years of life nothing like this had happened to him. He was terrified of himself and very much lost in his own despair. Gisu stabbed the ground with her skateboard, propelling herself forward and using said skateboard as a cane in order to get the closest she could to him. Using her own telepathy she tried her best to counter the force of Dion’s own psychic energy. The closer she got, the stronger Dion’s energy became, it was crazy and she didn’t know how to handle it. “GISU LEAVE!” She kept walking onward taking no mind of Dion’s words, just a few more steps and she would reach him, but it felt as if he were miles away. “GISU, STOP!” Her strength wavered, all of his force suddenly focused on her alone. His mind was tormented by screams, guilt invaded his body. HE had thrown Ford Cruller into the sky. HE levitated an old man and threw him to oblivion. HE had killed Ford Cruller, all because of… because… “DION PLEASE LET ME HELP! I’VE SEEN THIS HAPPEN A MILLION TIMES BEFORE. YOU JUST NEED TO CALM DOWN AND BREATH!”- Her cries resonated through the clear, her skateboard started to crack under pressure, she needed to act as fast as she could. She increased the energy she was putting into protecting herself and she kept moving forward. Dion felt hopeless, he needed to get Gisu away or he would hurt her like he hurt Ford. “GISU, PLEASE I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU TOO!” The whispers in his mind were long gone, replaced by screams of fury, guilt and fear. This time he knew all those voices were just him. HE was tormenting himself for what he had done, screaming into his mind until he broke and finally exploded. HE thought it was fair, he deserved to end like this. Not just for what he did to Ford but for how he treated Raz, how he annoyed Gisu with his stupid questions about psychics, how he treated the people around him, how he was bound to explode and no one, not even himself, could stop it from happening. But at least he would make sure to not take anyone down with him. Suddenly a soft sensation was felt on his shoulders, like a thin blanket. Dion looked up from his knees and there she was. Gisu holding on to her skateboard, her knuckles white from the effort. Her hair waving as if a storm was hitting her directly on her face. A soft smirk planted on her face. Her scarf missing from her shoulders and gently placed on his. Tears began to run down from his eyes, all the way to his chin. The pressure stopped, the screams wavered turning back into whispers and the world finally stopped spinning. Gisu took his hands and gently lifted them both to stand. Her hands were rough and cold from all of her mechanical projects with Otto, but for Dion they felt like a safe place, something he hadn’t felt from anyone ever since he was a child. “Let’s go back to the campgrounds your family is looking for you and it's getting dark.”- her voice was soft, a hint of relief on her tone. Dion nodded. They started walking out of the clear and reentering the forest. They had a long way back and Gisu knew it was better to hold her breath since the Aquato family were definitely going to have a rough night. END OF PART 2.

PART 1:

#dion aquato #headcanon: psychic dion #psychonauts #psychonauts2 #psychonauts gisu #psychonauts razputin #razputin aquato #ford cruller

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holykillercake · 3 years

Text

Barrels, Bets and Balls

pairing: Zoro x Drunk!Reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: The Straw hats are presented with millenary rum from an Ancient Giant Tribe and, well, no one is giving you that anymore.

higlight: ¨And then you said ¨maybe I should wear your underwear.¨

warning: Don´t read and drive.

notes: HOLD MY BEER! Hi, guys! This was a lovely request from @roronoatrash for a drunk s/o! I have to say this is my first time writing a drunk character so I´m a bit nervous hahaha I really really hope you like it! Have fun and drink responsibly! <3 @vemuabhi

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

¨Agh!¨ you mumbled when you tried to lift your head from the pillow. It felt like the Thousand Sunny had run over you a thousand times.

¨Hm?¨

¨Regret ... mhbeh ... thing...¨ your mouth was so dry that talking became almost impossible.

¨What´s that?¨ Zoro asked, definitely amused by your deplorable state.

¨Hmmm... I don´t... regret... anything.¨

¨Of course you don´t. You don´t remember anything.¨ he shifted on the bed, making it look like a black hole was opening in the mattress. ¨Here, take this.¨ He handed you something.

¨I don´t need your pity... ma-marimo.¨

¨This is not pity, Y/N. This is a painkiller. Come on, you´re gonna feel better.¨

When he helped you to sit on the bed, you noticed something stuck to the window, preventing the sun from entering and blinding you. The greenette removed a few locks of hair that laid plastered across your face before helping you with the herculean task of taking the pill.

¨If the stupid cook is not dead he must have made coffee.¨ he stood up, grabbing your slippers and placing them in front of you.

In the meantime, your mind tried to gather whatever useful information you had to understand what had happened, but everything was a void blank.

¨You ok?¨ he asked, hand on the doorknob. ¨Do you want me to bring it to you?¨

¨No, it´s ok...¨ you pinched the bridge of your nose, making one last effort to remember at least a crumb of the previous hours. You were fast to give up, though. ¨What happened?¨

¨Uhhh, you got drunk and passed out.¨ he said like it was no big deal.

¨Hmm, ok...¨ you took a few seconds to digest his words ¨but when you say ´you´ you mean ´you me´ or ´you guys´?¨

A chuckle left his mouth ¨Come and you´ll see.¨

The sun shone high in the sky, forcing you to wince back into your room like the time you had your shadow stolen. You stumbled and lowered yourself to the floor, crawling away from the light.

¨You go!¨ you said dramatically, covering your eyes ¨Run away and leave me! Tell everyone... that I fought until the last moment!¨

Zoro scoffed at your poorly performed scene, walking closer to you and squatting, back turned to you. ¨Hop, soldier. We don´t leave nakamas behind, right?¨

Your cheeks reddened with his gesture, and you hid your hungover smitten smile on the crook of his neck. ¨Hold tight, Y//N.¨

Oh, I will. Ouch, my head!

As soon as you reached the main deck, your eyes widened, ignoring the bright sun, and your mouth fell in a perfect O.

¨Oh my freaking... what happened here?¨

If it weren't for the countless barrels, you would have easily thought that you had been chewed up by a sea king.

The Straw Hats were scattered across the deck, mixed with garbage, blankets, and rolls of toilet paper. Their unorthodox positions would definitely grant them a stiff neck.

Zoro carried you to the kitchen where you found Usopp and Chopper talking at the kitchen table.

¨... like I fasted in a desert for forty nights, and then I survived... a buster call. And like... all of the battleships were pointed at me. And I was catching fire before that.¨ you heard Usopp whine to the doctor, who wrapped some bandages on him.

¨Oi, who made coffee?¨ Zoro asked purposely loud.

¨SHHHH!¨ you and the sniper hissed at him.

¨Sanji did.¨ Chopper answered ¨Oh, Y/N, how are you feeling?¨

¨Like my heart is beating in my head.¨

¨At least there´s a heartbeat.¨ the swordsman replied, putting you close to a chair so you could take a seat. ¨Hm, Chopper, I saw the cook dead outside.¨

¨Yeah, he made coffee and then passed out again.¨ Chopper discreetly pointed at Usopp´s bandages.

¨He passed out and spilled hot coffee on me!¨ he roared, stopping midway to whine.

¨But you two look pretty good, though.¨ You referred to Chopper and Zoro.

Not Usopp, definitely not Usopp.

¨Night watch. I didn´t drink last night.¨ the doctor sighed, relieved.

¨And I can handle my alcohol.¨ the greenette bragged, placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of you.

¨What happened anyway?¨

¨Oh! You don´t remember too, Y/N? That millenary rum was really strong!¨ Chopper asked, fascinated by the effects of the beverage.

¨Millenary rum?¨

¨Yeah! It was a gift from an Ancient Giant Tribe!¨

¨Giant tribe?¨ you kept repeating every word he said, double-checking to see if you were not hearing things.

¨Y/N, what´s the last thing you remember?¨

¨Hmm, let me see...¨ you rested your elbows on the table, hands covering your eyes. Wow, even thinking hurts.

<~>

¨I swear to God, Tony! When Luffy falls into the water, you can not jump after him!¨ you yelled, panting from climbing back to the ship and soaking wet of salty water.

He pouted and whined. You only called him ¨Tony¨ when you were upset with him.

¨So-Sorry Y/N... AaaAgh...¨ his voice trembled, and you couldn´t help but soften a little.

¨Ugh, forget it.¨ you laid down on the grass and sighed, the reindeer on your belly ¨Are you alright, Chopper?¨

¨Y-Yeah...¨

Zoro emerged a few seconds later, carrying Luffy on his shoulder.

You had engaged in a fight against some bandits who were causing trouble on an island called Gran Brabados. From what you could understand, they were descendants of the Ancient Giant Tribe who emancipated from Elbaf after years of conflict.

¨I don´t wanna be rude, but¨ Usopp spoke to one of them ¨I thought giants were warriors. Like Broggy and Dory. Those guys fought for over 100 years!¨

¨Well, most of us are, but some are not. That's why we left Elbaf.¨ the giant said ¨We're not interested in war, we're interested in rum!¨

All of you stopped for a second, wondering if you heard the same thing.

¨Eh?¨ you spoke.

¨We don´t make war! We make rum!¨ he threw his huge hands in the air, chest puffing out of pride.

¨Oi, really? Give us some!¨ Zoro immediately threw Luffy on the floor and ran towards the giant. Next thing you knew, the giant burst into laughter.

¨Gabababa!¨ he hunched as he laughed ¨Sorry, but tiny people like you can't handle it! Gababababa!¨

You were not sure what offended you the most, he calling you all, who just saved their asses, weak or having to dodge the huge drops of saliva that came out of his mouth.

After insisting a lot, he ended up giving in, presenting the straw hats with barrels and barrels of millenary rum. Yeah, millenary. Rum distilled for one thousand years, or at least that is what he said.

The celebration didn´t take long to begin. Because Luffy had decided to set sail that same day, you would all be bathed with a pleasant sunset as you partied.

¨Wow!¨ you shouted after chugging the first tankard. ¨Oooohh, this is good booze!¨ you shook your head, already feeling the kick.

¨Girl, you should go easy on this. It´s super strong.¨ Franky said, making you scoff at him, possessed by some waspish Viking demon.

¨And here I thought you were hard-boiled.¨

¨What?¨

¨O-Oi, Y/N...¨ Usopp said, worried, sipping his drink.

¨Haven´t you learned anything with Tom-san?¨ you clicked your tongue ¨Meh, I guess I´ll be the one making things with a DON around here!¨ you chugged more of the rum.

The shipwright glared at you with a red beam coming out of his left eye. You remember questioning yourself for a second. Maybe you had said too much, but it was just for a brief second before you insulted someone else.

Back at the kitchen table, flashes of the events from the last night began to pop in your mind. Guilt and embarrassment gushed over you, making you twist and cringe.

¨And then you said ¨maybe I should wear your underwear.¨ Chopper shivered as he quoted your words.

¨Nooo...¨ you cried out.

¨It gets worse, Y/N.¨

¨What?! How?!¨

¨Because after that,¨ Zoro started to speak, and you saw him struggle to stop a smile from cracking. That was not a good sign. ¨you said "your balls are so small Robin could have grabbed them with one hand!¨

The men laughed and slapped the table as you looked for a place to bury your head or a knife to stab yourself in the heart.

¨WHY DIDN´T YOU STOP ME?¨ you yelled, pulling your boyfriend by the collar and shaking him.

He placed a hand on your forehead, a silly thing he did every time you got too nervous. ¨Oi, you´re a big girl. You know what you´re doing.¨

¨Noo, obviously I don´t!¨ He smiled.

He would not be the one to tell you, but he did have to stop Franky from Radical Beam-ing the hell out of you several times. For some reason, you were very keen on insulting the cyborg's masculinity.

Another thing he wouldn´t tell you was that he didn´t touch the rum in the last night. He decided to remain sober and look after you, making sure you would not kill someone or get yourself killed.

However, despite all the trouble you gave him, he recognized your strength. Straw hat after straw hat, you managed to defeat everyone in a stupid drinking contest.

The biggest achievement was to drag Luffy into the game since he dislikes the taste of alcohol. When he denied being part of it, you teased him by saying,¨I think you are just scared, Luffy. You know what, maybe I should be the Captain of this ship! Maybe, I will be the Pirate King!¨

That was about the sixth punch Zoro took for you. Or because of you.

The darker the night fell, the wilder you all got. And then insults began to come from every direction to every direction. You were arguing, then laughing, then crying and apologizing. If it wasn´t for Zoro, Chopper would have had a heart attack.

¨Nami, you thief! Give me back my queen, or I´ll be forced to shoot a Bidori Moshi at you!¨ Usopp yelled, holding a bunch of cards in his hands.

¨Oi, Usopp! How dare you speak with a lady like that?! I´ll kick you in the face!¨

¨Bring it on, Sanji! I eat eggplants like you for breakfast every day! AND IT´S GOD USOPP FOR YOU!¨

¨Zoro...¨ Chopper cried, falling close to where the swordsman was sitting. ¨W-What are we going to do?¨

¨Uh? Ah, sit back and relax. You know these guys, they are ju-¨

¨Y/N-san, may I see your panties?¨

¨Well, too bad for you I´m not weari-¨

¨OI! Y/N!¨ Zoro dashed over, throwing you on his shoulder.

That was about the first punch Brook took for you. Or, again, because of you.

And then, as the number of biological hazards began to decline, managing the situation became easier and easier. Chopper took care of the fallen drunken, and Zoro threw blankets over them.

In the end, it was you and Luffy. You were still arguing about the things you said earlier. Both of you were exhausted but didn´t want to give in. The argument only ended when you withdrew your words, saying that he would be the one to become King of the Pirates.

Luffy fell dead asleep immediately, and Zoro took the cue to approach you. ¨Hey, Y/N. Our time, let´s go?¨

You turned to him and nodded, red cheeks and tired eyes. He had to scoop you up and carry you back to your room since your legs were not part of the equation anymore, and you would let go and fall every time he tried to carry you on his back.

¨Heeey, you´re not drunk!¨ you whined, almost falling asleep. ¨Why aren´t you drunk?¨

¨Cause you drank everything.¨

¨Noo, I can find s´more.¨ you uncovered yourself, trying to get out of bed.

¨I bet you can.¨ he said, covering you again and pulling you closer.

The warmth of his body, altogether with his hand gently rubbing your back, made your system shut down.

¨You know... I can kick your ass... in a drinking contest...¨

¨Yeah,¨ he chuckled ¨I bet you can.¨

That was definitely not true, but for you, well, for you he could pretend it was.

#one piece #oneshot #worst generation #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #franky #usopp #chopper #luffy #nami #brook #thousand sunny #elbaf #rum #pirate king #opfanfic

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Din Djaren x force sensitive reader - A Moment Of Bliss

Summary: You’re trying to meditate but your boys have other plans for you.

Warning: child being cute, fluff, SMUT, Din being the best space husband

Side note: wrote this before I learned the child’s name is Grogu, that is all.

Masterlist

You and your small clan of two have been stationed on a beautiful rolling grassland of a planet, ginormous stocky umbrella like trees sprouting from the flat land every couple miles from one another. They’re honestly quite the sight to behold, and something that you’re grateful for considering there’s no sand in sight. Honestly the most blessed thing of all that this wonderous planet has to offer, you can’t say you’re a real fan of the desert by any means.

Although you’re not exactly fond of the real reasoning why you’re here, it just so happened that Mando had gotten himself into some trouble when he captured the last bounty. A trafficking lord who just wasn’t as clever as he thought, earning himself some chains and a go around in a fun little thing called carbonite.

Nonetheless, his minions had tracked you two down after the bounty had been cashed in, slightly damaging the Razor Crest before Mando was able to lose them with some quick witted maneuvering. But you’re certain they’re still hunting you guys somewhere close by in the galaxy.

So for the time being, Din has decided for your band of three to lay low on this beautiful planet until he’s sure that the petty criminals have given up, or until you both get bored enough and decide to finish them off yourselves.

Which is all fine for you, what could be better then a tiny vacation away from shady scavengers and untrustworthy pimps? Nothing really, so to make the most out of your fortunately unfortunate escape/ temporary vacation. You’ve chosen to spend your afternoon helping the child practice his growing powers. Although it appears the little guy is more interested in a shiny purple crystal that he found minding its business on the gravely ground.

Sitting yourself in a criss cross position upon the soft grass, you close your eyes as you prepare to meditate when suddenly the child makes the most adorable babbling sound, with an amused smile you open your eyes to look down at him, “I’ll let that slide.” He gurgles while tilting his head to the side, his big green ears flopping ever so slightly as he possibly considers your comment.

Watching him decide to sit down and instead play with the purple crystal, earns a little smirk upon your face as you shut your eyes once again. This time he doesn’t do anything to break your concentration, so taking the blessed opportunity you’re finally able to zone in on the force. Laying your arms onto your folded legs you open your palms, feeling the world around you, sensing the energy flowing in as you begin to rise from the ground.

The child watches in silent awe as small fist sized rocks begin to float and flow in circles around you, your contact with the grass no more. For a couple minutes you’re able to sustain your deep meditation, then a tiny little coo is heard from below as it shuffles in the dirt. You almost lose focus at the intruding noise, but your zoned out enough to come back to the welcoming bleary void of the force.

Another couple minutes go by before an adorable noticeably louder coo pricks at your ears, letting out a huff, you remain in the air, the pebbles and rocks around you keeping themselves suspended just the same. You focus even harder, letting yourself feel weightless and in control as you levitate above the grass, the child deciding to coo and babble once more.

“Shut up you’re gonna break my concentration,” You whisper softly as you carefully continue to levitate mere inches off of the ground. Just then the child suddenly lets out a loud messy sneeze, your face falling in irritation, “Aaaand it’s gone.” You deadpan before falling on your butt with a hmph, the little guy giggling in amusement. You fake glare at him before falling back into the soft grass as you look up to the blue sea of sky when suddenly a dark shinning shadow towers above you.

“How’s the meditation going?” Wonders Din as he joins your little party from where he once was, tending to the ship that is.

Sighing, you pull yourself up from the grass and into a proper seated position as you turn your attention to Din, “Not terribly.” You reply with a love struck grin as you lightly pat the grassy spot next to you, “Sit with me?” He looks at the area before bringing himself down to your level.

“Couldn’t hurt to relax for a minute.” Inquires Din as you roll your eyes.

“We’re being hunted Din, I think this little get away vacation of ours calls for a bit more then just a minute of relaxation. Don’t you agree?” He turns his helmet to you, the black T of his armored face showing you back your own distorted reflection.

“Gives me time to work on the ship.”

Nudging his arm that’s mere inches from your own you look at him with a smile, “Okay so that’s how it’s gonna be, you’re just glad to be working on the ship?” You muse with a fake scoff while shaking your head at him, “I should have known.”

“What? No that’s not...that’s not what I meant Y/N.” He rushes worriedly as you scoot yourself closer to him.

Softly chuckling at his quick reaction, you lean into his side as you casually lace his gloved hand with your own, “I know what you meant. But just cause I’m me, I’d rather have you in my arms then fiddling with that hunk of metal.” You explain before setting your chin against his beskar covered shoulder. You can’t see it, but he’s smiling underneath that helmet of his, looking deeply into your loving gaze.

“Likewise.”

Snaking your arms around the one closest to you, he ever so slightly leans into your touch, “Please take off your helmet so I can see those enticing dark eyes of yours. Please?” You urge with a light squeeze of his arm, “I can’t exactly kiss you like this...no ones around to see anything....and anyways we’re married so I automatically get a free pass.”

He gently squeezes your hand before reaching his arms up to his head, you hear a soft click and a whoosh of air as he pulls off his helmet. A blissful smile breaks out onto your beaming face as his fluffy brown locks appear before you, styled every which way as they embrace their new freedom.

He sets his shiny silver helmet to the side before pulling off his gloves as his dark irises find your face, you’re unabashedly biting your lip while you take in every single feature of his handsome face, “It’s a good thing you wear that helmet of yours,” You lean in close, “cause all the ladies would be fighting each other for a chance to get with you. There’s no doubt in my mind.” You muse as the most adorable of smiles graces his stunning features while he leans his head against yours, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“I have a great suspicion that you’d fight them before they even had a chance to breath in my direction.” Retorts Din as his hands gently grasp your own.

“What? No way.....okay....maybe yes.” He smiles brightly before pulling back, only to let go of your hands as he engulfs you into a giant hug. You quickly squeeze back as you push him into the grass, laughing as the both of you fall onto the soft earth.

Your eyes find his shining dark ones as you lean in close, “We should stay here, disappear from the rest of the galaxy and go M.I.A forever.” He kisses you in reply, his lips are soft and inviting as he holds you impossibly close, the scruff of his day old unkept facial hair scratching your cheek.

He slowly pulls away, earning a pout from you once he’s able to see your face again, “That does sound appealing, but I know you’d get bored with the calmness. You like adventure too much to stay in one spot for very long.” He says with a knowing look as he leans in to plant soft kisses over your cheeks, “I know you Y/N.”

Rolling your eyes you lean down to kiss his nose, “That you do, Din. Sometimes annoyingly so.” You reply before breaking out into an abrupt laugh as you watch him study your face lovingly.

Suddenly you feel a little nudge by your boot, shifting your gaze away from Din you look over to your feet where the little womp rat is. He’s smiling adorably as he babbles some more, stretching his little arms out for one of you to take, making a cute grabby motion with his hands.

Heeding to his silent yearning you sit up to gently pick up the beaming child, “Oh and how could I forget you, my little green bean....you can have all the cuddles too.” He squeals in delight as you hold him close in your lap, Din scoots over so his head is by your thighs as he gently pets his little green son on his wrinkly head.

Running your fingers through Din’s helmet hair you make a funny face at the child causing him to laugh, “I guess staying here for another week couldn’t hurt. I’ve got my two favorite people in the whole galaxy....no need to rush things.” Mutters Din as he looks to you with the biggest heart eyes while you stick your tongue out at the child.

“I’d like that very much, our little green boy....you and me, alone, a ship all to ourselves...no one to bother us.” You add, a suggestive tone laced throughout your sly voice, Din’s eyebrows raise in interest at your intriguing words, much to your amusement.

“And I have time to work on my ship.” Replies Din, side eyeing you to see your reaction to his lackluster comment.

Shaking your head you lightly tug at his tangled hair while he laughs, “You little shit. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you...you fucker.” A giggle escapes from your lips as you try and keep a serious face, Din attempting to do the same, though you’re both about to crack.

The baby starts to babble, as he wiggles his little body from side to side in an attempt at gaining back the both of your wandering attentions. Not being able to handle the sheer silliness in the atmosphere you let out a loud burst of laughter, Din following suite.

You watch as the sides of his eyes crinkle in joy, his belly rippling with each new inhalation and exhalation of air, “Din, would you like to see what we’ve been practicing on?” You ask as he finally calms down again.

“You’ve been practicing with him?” He asks with a smile, “I’d love to.”

Turning to the child in your lap you grab his sides before gently setting him onto the ground, “Okay little guy, remember you’re training....what we we’re doing yesterday. First we stick our hand out....and then we focus really hard on wanting to lift up the rocks. Okay.” The child coos in excitement as he lifts his clawed hand out to mirror your own, “Now close your eyes and feel...feel the power around you, the wind, the earth...call to it, let it flow.”

He suddenly lets out a little tut of determination as he does his best to focus, Din watches silently in anticipation for what may happen next. A beaming smile breaks out onto your face as a couple tiny pebbles begin floating off of the grass, the child lets out an excited babble as he celebrates his achievement, “You’re doing fantastic my little love, I’m so proud of you.” He coos even more as you gush in amazement, the pebbles falling to the grass as he gets distracted by your words of encouragement.

“But can Y/N lift some little stones?” Jokes Din as he gently nudges your arm, you raise an eyebrow to him before using the force to lift him a couple inches off of the grass. His eyes go wide for a second, clearly not expecting you to mess with him before you drop him onto the soft grass once again.

He lands with a dramatic huff, you look to him and your heart skips a beat as he eyes you up like a wolf to his prey, you swallow just as he suddenly tackles you into the soft green grass. You fall back with a yelp as your Mandalorian pins you to the ground, his beaming face so close to your own as he stares into your eyes with his dark ones.

“You think you’re real funny, hmm Y/N?” His voice is low and husky, his breath fanning your smirking face as he attempts to take the upper hand, “Cause that kinda hurt my arm.”

You simply roll your eyes, “I’ve seen you get swallowed by a Krayt dragon, you reckless man. Tough it out my love, you don’t want to make a bad impression on the little guy now do yo...” His soft lips are suddenly on yours as he shuts you up with his soft plush lips. The child waddles over towards the Razor Crest, uninterested with training and with whatever wrestling game you and Din are becoming entangled in.

You smile into the kiss as Din rests his weight in between your opened thighs and stomach, he rests his forearm upon the grass as his other hand caresses the side of your face. You bask in his body as your hands feel through his soft wavy locks, he moans into your mouth at the pleasant sensation, earning an amused chuckle from you.

Your opened mouth giving him enough space to stick his tongue into it as he teases you, you answer back just the same, your tongues dancing in the dark as he consumes you. He feels rather nice, you can’t help but to begin feeling a bit heated in your nether regions from the close proximity in this compromising position he has you in. Your body erupts with electricity as he starts to grind into you, the slow small friction against your clothed womanhood sending you into another realm of pleasure, and he’s not even inside you yet.

“Right in the grass?” You mumble against his lips as he bucks against your hips, the sensation driving you insane.

Knowing exactly how it’s making you squirm, he feels rather proud of himself, “Ships too far.” Mutters Din between kisses as he reaches down to unclasp his belt.

Your lips stay locked, a surprised gasp leaving your mouth as Din tugs down your own pants. He sits up and quickly makes haste with discarding his armored torso, flinging off top clothing and undershirt as you lift up your arms for him to pull off yours. The fabric falling to the grass as the both of you take in each other’s nearly naked bodies, your thin undergarments the only pieces keeping you away from total bliss.

He rests himself upon his bent knees while dark pleading irises stare into your own, he’s asking silent permission to disrobe you of all clothing. A smile breaks out upon your flushed face, nodding in a silent yes, his eyes flash with excitement and lust as he reaches over to tug at the edges of the tight fabric, he gently pulls off your bra. Your breasts bounce once they’re free from their constraints, Din’s brows raising in excited surprise before leaning down to kiss each one before he captures your lips with his once more.

Din you have no idea what you do to me.

Deciding you’d quite like it if both of you were naked, you pull away, Din’s face following yours as he pouts. In reply to his protests you fall back into the grass, “My undies aren’t gonna take themselves off.” You muse with a lustful gaze upon your man, god you already feel so wet, Din’s most obviously hard and you’re so ready for him.

His cheeks are flushed as he gently grasps the hem of your underwear on either side of your hips, you lift your bum up when he slides them down your legs, abandoning them in the grassy field. Your heart soars when he leans down to plant a kiss on the inside of your bare thigh, then another and another as he trails up to your knee. He pulls away to look at you once again, his face a mask of pure love and adoration as he shimmies out of his bulging boxers.

Biting your lip, you lean up to meet his lips, he kisses you deeply as he rests his calloused hands into each one of your knees, ever so carefully he parts them. Your nerves sending a wave of heat into your core for the anticipation of what’s to come, both literally and figuratively. If not for the current events you’d be laughing, your wandering thoughts quickly dissipating away once he pushes you back so that you’re laying in the soft earth as he locks eyes with you.

Giving you the most beautiful of smiles he kisses your abdomen, then below your bellybutton, up to your stomach, and in between your breasts. He’s hovering annoyingly close to you. You arch into him, the skin of his torso meeting your exposed womanhood, a moan escapes him from the wet contact against his stomach. You let out a breathy laugh as he squeezes and kneads your left breast, his mouth consuming the other one, his tongue working wonders as he sucks and licks at your perked nibbles.

Your hands tangle in his wavy dark hair as he continues his pleasurable assault in your breasts, his fingers may cause a little discomfort as he squeezes but you’re enjoying it too much to give a shit. His hot wet tongue dances in circles around your skin, he lets go of your breast to then lick up your turned neck. Doing everything in your power to keep it all inside, you bite your lip in an attempt at suppressing a moan, your voice breaking free once his hardened member rubs past your entrance without warning.

“There’s that pretty voice of yours.” Mutters Din before capturing his lips with yours, his hands held firmly against the ground as he holds himself up inches from you.

How annoying you can be, Din. Just get closer you idiot.

You feel so warm and fuzzy, his body mere inches from your wanting skin, your legs already open and ready as his length stays firm only centimeters away from your lower abdomen. Tugging at his hair, he parts from your lips as a confused expression crosses his features, you simply chuckle, “Stop making me wait my love, I’m ready for you.” His eyes closing in bliss as you purr sweetly into his ear, “I need you in me, now.”

Heeding to your straightforward command, he reaches a hand down as he guides his hardened cock to your awaiting entrance. He rubs it against your clit in a teasing manner before he slowly pushes into you, your hands flying to his muscular back as your walls adjust to his length. With a soft moan from his sweet lips, he fills you entirely, for a couple seconds does he pause. Letting himself enjoy the sensation of his cock inside you as he presses butterfly kisses all over your face.

Yes, fucking finally.

Not being able to stand it anymore, you buck your hips into him, this giving Din the cue to start working his magic. He completely pulls out of you before slamming himself into your slickness once again, a gasp leaving your lips as he does it again and again and again. Until he decides to keep himself flush against you, his new close contact vigorous thrusts sending more waves of euphoria coursing throughout your entire vessel. All that’s heard in the breeze is the sounds of your moaning and the slabs of skin on skin as Din pumps relentlessly into you.

You’re honestly rather glad that those bastard scavengers ran you into hiding on this planet, it had been a while since you and Din had had any real intimate time together and this was the perfect opportunity. Humming in pleasure, you kiss his scruffy cheek as his head falls into the crook of your neck, “Din I fucking love you so much, you have no idea.” More deep strokes are thrust into you as he kisses the side of your head.

“Y/N ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.....” His all he manages to mutter as another satisfied moan escapes him. You chuckle at how absolutely adorable and hot he’s acting right now, another thrust into you emitting a moan from your lips. He feels so good with how he’s treating you in this special moment, your two bodies colliding like stars in the sky.

You suck in a breath as a warmness builds in the pit of your stomach, you can feel your orgasm slowly rising with each and every pump into you. Din hums as he pushes you into the grass even more now, you can tell from how much more rigorous his thrusts are becoming that he’s on the edge of paradise.

And soon after he grunts, does he spill into you, the new added sensation enough to drive you wild with bliss. Your own high finally reached as your body shakes with euphoria and the last sloppy thrusts that he’s giving you freely.

A whimper escapes from your mouth as he enjoys himself inside of you for a couple more seconds before he slowly pulls out and flops by your side on the soft grass. He’s breathing heavily as you let the cool breeze fan over your sensitive swollen womanhood, the wind doing wonders for your hot sweaty skin as you try and calm down from your buzz. You close your eyes with a satisfied smile upon your content face as Din turns over to you with an equally joyous grin.

You listen and feel as he scoots himself against your side so that he can rest his arm over your stomach, his scruffy face inches from your cheek as he gently kisses you before resting his head against your temple. You lift your arm up to lay it over top of his as he hugs your side, doing his best to keep you as close to him as physically possible.

A pleasant sigh departs from his pouty lips, fanning the side of your face as you smile, “Y/N, you are very special to me...I just thought that you should know. Incase you ever forget.”

A small chuckle escapes you at his soft words, “Din I don’t think I could ever forget, you mean more to me then all the stars in the sky...more than the most valuable gems to ever exist or even my lightsaber.” He kisses your temple once again, “I believe the force has brought me to you my love, and I’m forever grateful for that.” You voice is a soft whisper on the breeze, yet he hears it all the same.

“Y/N I love you more than life, you are too sweet my beloved.” Your heart skips at his truthful reply, a small lump in your throat forming as he presses his nose against your hairline.

You turn your head to see his face better, he locks eyes with your own as a shy smile appears on his face, “Din Djaren you’re going to make me cry, shut up.” You muse with a quick kiss to his lips, looking into his dark brown irises like they hold all the answers to the universe.

He smiles against your cheek, kissing you there once more, “Never.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x you #din djaren x you #din djarin #din djaren x reader #din djaren imagine #the child #grogu #pedro pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal

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louthestarspeaker · 3 years

Text

Water Dancer

I was paired up with @photowizard17 for the @tagminibang! Had a wonderful time collaberating. I wrote the story and they drew the lovely art. Quite proud of what we did here :D

***

When Gordon was underwater, Virgil was a watcher. He hovered above the waves, eyes on the holographic marker that was a little yellow sub, on the telemetry numbers that marked breath and pulse. Virgil was a guardian, ready to tear apart the ocean if his little brother needed him.

But, to be quite honest, when Gordon was underwater, he rarely needed anything. Because when he was in the water, Gordon was a dancer. As a swimmer or in a sub, Virgil had seen him carve through the blue, had watched Gordon hone his skills his whole life.

But it was a very different thing, a rare thing, to be standing at his brother’s back, looking out the same windshield and watching the ocean rush by. Blue like his own world, his sky, but darker- and this world shook.

“Seaquake!” Gordon shouted, his eyes going sharp and grip tightening on the controls. “Virgil, buckle up!”

The warning came too late. The cockpit shuddered violently and Virgil grunted as he crashed into the wall before he could catch himself. Four made a sharp turn and sent him sliding the short distance across the glass floor before colliding with Gordon’s chair, the air blown out of him.

Virgil found himself staring through Four’s belly, his cheek pressed to the cool of the glass, high beams piercing through the dark.

They were in the worst place you could be during a seaquake, deep in an underwater mountain range with jagged rock walls jutting up high on either side of them. They were crumbling, and Gordon, with expert maneuvering, wove Four through the falling boulders, trying to climb for the surface.

It was loud.

There were screams coming from the passenger compartment, Gordon on the speakers telling them to stay calm. The deep rumble and sharp cracks as the world split apart around them. Deafening, even through the hull.

A foot nudged at Virgil’s side. “Virge! You okay?” Gordon asked, shouting over the destruction outside. His eyes were still pinned to the windshield, but there was a crease of worry between his brows that had nothing to do with piloting.

“I’m okay.” Virgil quickly assured him. Don’t make your little brother worry.

Virgil gripped the back of Gordon’s chair and hauled himself to his feet, securing a tether to keep him from pin-balling around the cockpit again, and pulling on his helmet for good measure.

Gordon chanced a glance over his shoulder, eyes meeting Virgil’s for a split second, making sure he was telling the truth.

“I’m fine.” Virgil repeated. There was a dull ache in his shoulder and another in his side, but nothing he couldn’t walk off. Gordon had bigger things to worry about.

Four gave another great shudder.

“Come on, girl, come on.” Gordon mumbled to his sub between clenched teeth, eyes flicking rapidly from windshield to readouts and back again.

Virgil kept a hand braced to the wall, trying to keep steady.

A seaquake was nothing like turbulence. Air had a direction, a forward movement, you could learn to ride even the strongest winds if you had the skill. But quakes had no rhyme or reason to them, they seized you and shook you like you were caught in the jaws of some animal. There was no riding one, only enduring it.

But eventually, because it always did, the shaking did stop.

“That was a long one,” Gordon muttered under his breath as the cockpit stabilized. He relaxed a fraction, but not by much. They were still in a danger zone.

Boulders began to hit the seafloor, and the silt rushed up and enveloped them. Visibility petered out to zero and Gordon was relying entirely on his instruments and instincts to climb them out of the fog.

A slab of stone fell into their path, appearing only as a shadow in the silt, plummeting for the seafloor and eager to take them all down with it. Gordon maneuvered Four through a narrow gap, only a few feet of open space on either side of them.

Piloting Four was highly instinctual, the controls wrapped around Gordon’s arms like armor, designed so he could feel the weight of the current. His movements were quick and sharp as he darted through the falling rock, but they had a rhythm to them, a tide of their own.

Gordon was an ocean unto himself, dual sided in personality and skill.

He was the obvious, the sparkling sunlit surfaces, the skipping waves and playful banter. And he was the hidden, the deep midnight blue in the depths, rarely seen in the light.

Well, they were far from the sunlight now.

The sub swerved sharply, and Virgil struggled on his feet. A new alarm tore through the cockpit and Gordon swore, voice all sharp edges and hard surface.

"Okay, hold on, I think we're in trouble." Gordon said, the words slipped out of him in a breath.

Virgil leaned over to glance Gordon’s instruments. There was a boulder three times the size of Four free falling towards them.

Virgil swore too.

Gordon’s eyes ticked quickly back and forth, from his instruments to his blinded windshield, imagining the things Virgil didn’t know how to, and he could see the gears turning.

“Hold on, I’ve got a stupid plan.” Gordon said.

“Better than no plan.”

For from his usual response when a brother said something along those lines, but right now the options were either stupid or crushed and Virgil had a preference.

Gordon kicked Four faster, sending her barreling upward, tight to the cavern wall, straight for the boulder. There was a narrow strip of negative space, was that what Gordon was aiming for?

Virgil bit his lip. It was too small.

They couldn’t even see the distance closing. Gordon had the numbers, the meters decreasing, Virgil had the cadence of the proximity alarm, screeching louder, louder, louder.

Staring out and seeing nothing was scarier somehow.

Gordon hit the speaker button for the passenger compartment. “Everyone brace yourselves! We’re gonna hit!”

The lights switched to a pulsing red as they neared and it matched the heart beat thumping wildly in Vigil’s ears and chest.

“Helmet!” Gordon shouted. Virgil snatched his brother’s helmet out of a locker and slipped it quickly over Gordon’s head.

This was all him. There was nothing Virgil could do. Adrenaline surged and it made his fingers shake.

But the fear in him didn’t matter, because he wasn’t the one sitting in the pilot’s seat, because the person who was was a water dancer. And never had Virgil trusted him more than here, surrounded by the currents and the stone.

Never more than now.

Gordon breathed.

And the world went dark.

The impact sent Virgil crashing into the side of the pilot’s chair, and there was a metallic thunk as Gordon’s head flung forward against the dash.

The screeching of the alarms bled together with the screams from the back compartment, melding together into blank, white noise in Virgil’s ears. A high pitched whine stretching out into infinity.

But infinity ended fairly quickly. And then that was it.

The red emergency lights blinked on again. Virgil’s shoulder smarted worse now but he was still in one piece.

Gordon sat up from the dash, looking a bit dazed but no worse for wear. “We okay? You okay?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“All good.” Gordon grinned and rapped a fist against his helmet. “Nice to have a copilot.”

Virgil cracked a smile at that one.

He peered out the windshields. Outside the glass was a more solid darkness than the hazy shadows of before. “Gords, are we… in a cave?”

“Cave is being kind of generous.” Gordon said, taking stock of Four’s controls. “But I thought this hollow could give us some cover.”

“Are we stuck?”

“Totally. But lucky for us I’ve got a secret weapon.” There was a grin that was decidedly more cheeky little brother than reassuring rescue operative. “Check the depth gauge, bro.”

Virgil looked over Gordon’s instruments and found a number he recognized. They were right on the edge of the threshold for Two’s rescue cable.

“I tried to get us a little closer to the surface.” Gordon said, watching his brother’s face. “But you could probably still fish us out.”

“I’m your plan B?” Virgil said, and the words were just a little incredulous. They were in an environment where Gordon was masterful, while Virgil was usually leagues away.

But Gordon just looked at him, aquanaut and submariner and water dancer, and his face said duh. “You’re always my plan B.”

Which shouldn’t have been surprising, but in this instance it was. Gordon dove miles deep into the ocean, and Virgil waited for him far above. And sure he thought of himself as a guardian for his little brother but he couldn’t really tear apart the ocean if he tried.

If he needed to.

Still. Virgil could understand it on some level. John’s voice in his ear could calm him like no other. And it was always easier to fly with Scott on his wing. Virgil had just never considered he could provide that kind assurance from so far away.

Though Gordon, apparently, felt differently.

Virgil called Two to rendez-vous directly above them, and lowered the rescue claw to it’s maximum length.

It was a bit of a stretch, and had him pulling Two closer to the ocean than he would’ve liked, but her cable reached them. A hand reaching down from far away.

Virgil dig them out as quickly as he was able without ringing down more of the mountain. Gordon ran through a quick systems check, gave another word of reassurance to their passengers, then began to take them up. No one wanted to stay in the area any longer than strictly necessary.

The cockpit grew steadily lighter as Four climbed for the surface, trading the silt for the sunlight. Gordon piloted with a careful frown, maneuvering his sub with practiced ease.

Carving through the blue as sure as ever.

Virgil felt a smile on his lips. “Nice job, Gords.”

Gordon looked up at him, crinkling eyes. “Nice job, yourself.”

#thunderbirds are go #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #photowizard17 #tagminibang2021 #lou writes things

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my-funky-little-cowboy · 3 years

Text

This is a really delayed @rdr-secret-cupid piece for the wonderful @alwaysbeliev. This one got re-assigned pretty late, but I do hope you enjoy. I wrote a little piece about how Arthur got into art. I included a little drawing of Arthur’s first sketch, since it was so late, I hope you enjoy!

Leather and Graphite

Characters: Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews, Bessie Matthews Themes: Fluff Warnings: None Words: 2,929

“What the hell were you thinking?” Hosea growled, releasing Arthur’s arm as they approached a bored looking horse.

“The guy started it!” Arthur argued, rubbing his arm.

“We were supposed to be scouting only, now we gotta move on, they are gonna be on alert now.” Hosea couldn’t look at the boy and he stepped into the saddle.

He thrust out a hand for Arthur, who climbed sullenly onto the horse. The ride back to their camp outside of town was silent.

“Oh, you’re back early!” Bessie looked up from her darning, putting her work down as Hosea and Arthur dismounted.

Her smile fell as she looked up at Hosea’s face, her eyes slowly moving to Arthur’s shrunken form behind him. “Is everything alright?”

Hosea scowled and turned to face Arthur. “Why don’t you tell her about our trip to town.”

The kid held his hat in his hands, a sheepish and pained look on his face. Hosea turned and took the reins, leading Amelia off to get her settled with the rest of the horses. Bessie patted the crate next to her.

“Come and sit, tell me what happened.”

Arthur plopped heavily beside her, his heels digging into the soft earth as he pushed his lanky legs out in front of him. He had grown so much in the last couple years, Bessie thought, looking down at him. She knew what this was about, he had started another fight, blown their cover.

“So, what was it this time.” She said gently, picking up the pair of trousers she needed to mend.

“It weren’t all my fault!” Arthur started, his voice cracking.

“It never is,” Bessie hummed.

-- || --

Bessie looked up from her journal, as Hosea stepped into their tent, he had been quiet and distant all night. His frustrations with Arthur had been bubbling all evening and she worried, it was unlike him to get so angry. He sighed heavily as he changed for bed.

“What’s wrong?” she said quietly, closing her journal.

“It was a good tip, Bessie, and now we are going to have to move on.” Hosea grumbled, “maybe it was a mistake to bring him along.”

“Oh, you don’t mean that, it was a little disagreement.”

“This is the third time this month he has gotten into a fight with someone in town! That anger of his is gonna get him caught, or worse, killed!” Hosea’s voice caught in his throat.

Bessie smiled knowingly. That was it, he wasn’t mad at Arthur, he was scared and worried for the boy.

“Mr. Matthews, is that concern I hear?” she said jokingly. “He just needs another outlet. What happened to that journal you bought him?”

Hosea scoffed, and shrugged. “I couldn’t get him to do his writing lessons in it, much less anything else.”

He crossed the space, settling down onto their pallet. He pinched the bridge of his nose, Hosea didn’t know what to do about Arthur. The teen had been letting his anger get the best of him more and more lately. Bessie was right, he needed another outlet, but the only things the kid seemed interested in were horses and fighting. He laid back, cradling his head in his arms.

“We could get him a horse?” Hosea mulled the idea over in his head. “No, then we would have another horse to take care of.”

Bessie chuckled lightly and snuffed the lantern, joining Hosea on the pallet. She kissed him gently on the cheek before resting her head against his chest.

“I may have an idea, I’ll talk to Arthur in the morning.” She felt Hosea’s arm snake around her, pulling her close and she hummed contently.

“What would I do without you?” Hosea said quietly, pressing a light kiss to the crown of her head.

-- || --

Arthur was a fairly early riser, the kid seemed to have a lot of trouble sleeping, and Bessie had taken advantage of the early morning peace more than a few times with him. He sat quietly, stoking the fire with a stick, the percolator bubbling with coffee he had undoubtedly brewed more than once this morning.

“Good morning, Arthur.” Bessie said softly so as not to spook him.

He looked up, dropping the stick into the flames. “Mornin’, missus Matthews.”

Bessie smiled and took a seat on a log near the fire, pulling out her journal. She flipped to an open page and began sketching quietly. Arthur watched her curiously, he had always wondered what she was putting in that journal. Hosea had gotten him one a while back to practice his writing, but what did he need that for? They were outlaws and crooks, so he hadn’t seen the point.

Her hands danced quickly across the page in long strokes, and Arthur found himself entranced. He wanted desperately to see what she was working on, what could possibly keep her interest, it was just writing, it wasn't like one of those fancy stories Hosea would get him.

He poured himself another coffee. “Ya want some coffee?”

Arthur held out a cup as Bessie looked up from her journal, laying her pencil down, she took the cup from him.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” She smiled, cradling the cup in her hands.

Arthur looked to the floor, a blush blooming across his cheeks. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No problem at all,” he muttered. “You workin’ on a story or something?” He glanced down at her journal.

Bessie took a sip from her cup, she had snagged him.

“Oh, just capturing the moment.” She said over the top of her cup. “I like to capture moments I want to look back on.” She motioned for Arthur to join her on the log.

He cocked an eyebrow, settling next to her. “Capturing the moment?” He furrowed his brow, looking down at her journal.

His eyes scanned the page, the camp was laid out roughly, the lake just beyond the tents a gentle mist etched over the water. He was there, tending to the fire, just like he had been when Bessie had joined him.

“You draw missus Matthews?” He asked, unable to take his eyes off the page. “Why?”

“Why not? I enjoy it. You ever tried?” She turned to a blank page, offering the journal to Arthur.

“When I was a kid,” he held up his hands, “but I ain’t ever seen the point.”

Bessie raised an eyebrow incredulously. She flipped the journal back to the beginning, running her fingers over the page to flatten it out.

Arthur’s eyes scanned down the page, he recognized the scene, the small town nestled in the valley as they had come through the mountains on their way east last spring. The sun had filtered through the clouds and the shadows danced through the valley. Arthur remembered that day, he had done his best to commit it to his memory. Beside the image was a page of beautifully written words, they looked nothing like Arthur’s own handwriting, sloppy and slanted and uncertain.

Bessie flipped the page, and he saw his own smiling face, holding up the rabbit from his first hunt with Hosea. They went through the journal, through each memory, so many that Arthur had forgotten. He looked up at Bessie as she flipped to a new page.

“I like to sketch out the good memories, ones I don’t want to ever forget. “I’ve learned something over all these years. Even your most life-changing memories fade with time. The ones you swore you’d never forget, might someday not be quite as clear. But if I sketch them, it’s like leaving myself an open window.”

Arthur traced his hand over one of the pages. He’d never thought about it like that, he’d forgotten about his first hunting trip with Hosea, it had seemed so long ago. They’d been spitting out birdshot all night. He was sure he had damn near chipped a tooth eating that rabbit, but it had been fun. He looked back up at Bessie.

“You think you could teach me to draw, miss Bessie?”

“Ain’t much to it,” she smiled, “just look at what’s around you and try and capture it on paper.”

She looked around camp, seeing the horses grazing lazily under some trees. Flipping to a new page in the journal she handed it to Arthur, pointing over to the herd.

“Draw what you see, let’s try with the horses. Just capture the shapes first.” She held out the pencil for him.

He took the pencil from her hesitantly, looking down at it in his hand.

“I can’t draw horses!”

“Have you tried?” Bessie countered, “Just try, break them down to shapes and go from there.”

Arthur huffed and put the pencil to the paper, looking up at the herd as they grazed. The pencil moved shakily across the page, trying his best to break down the shapes. Bessie smiled, watching as he worked. He was doing pretty well, each of the horses’ forms coming together on the page.

He felt her eyes on him and looked up, her smile reassuring him. He glanced again at the herd, who had started to stir as the sun climbed higher into the sky. He closed his eyes, biting his lip in concentration, willing the image of them as they were into his memory.

“Looks like your subjects are moving on.” Bessie placed her hand gently on his shoulder. “That’s okay, it happens like that sometimes. But if you get down the shapes, you can go back to it later.”

She stood, leaving Arthur with the journal as she went to start her chores. He had gotten a good start, his lines were a bit shaky but she expected as such. He had seemed so focused, the normal boundless morning energy of the teen quieted by the experience. She would check back with him in a bit, knowing how unsettling it can be to have someone standing over you while you work.

Arthur put the pencil to paper again, closing his eyes as he pulled up the image of the horses in his head. He sketched lines, following the shapes he had created, connecting them and fleshing them out to match what he saw in his mind.

He sat back and looking down at what he had done, the shaky lines and vague shapes made his heart sink. He flipped back to the image that Bessie had been working earlier, running his fingers over her smooth lines, her looping and elegant handwriting. The frustration started to bubble within him and he closed the journal.

“What you got there, Arthur?” Hosea poured himself a coffee.

“Oh, I--” Arthur’s hands moved to cover the journal.

“He asked me if I could teach him how to draw.” Bessie replied for him, hefting the stew pot from the fire.

Arthur scrambled to help her, taking the pot from her and delivering it to the butcher table.

“Is that so?” Hosea glanced slyly at Bessie.

“Ye-yeah! She is showing me how to draw horses! Though, can’t say I’m much good at it.” He picked the journal up off the ground offering it back to her.

“It’s just a matter of practice,” she took the book, “it’ll become second nature in no time.”

Bessie flipped through the pages, finding Arthur’s sketch. He had done much better than her first time, his lines were a bit uncertain, but they very much looked like horses, and he had been able to capture a decent amount before his subjects had moved on.

“This is a wonderful start, Arthur. I know exactly what I’m looking at! Which is more than I could say about Hosea’s first try.” Her lips curling into a mischievous smile.

“My dear, you wound me.” Hosea gasped, grabbing his chest dramatically.

“Hosea draws too?” Arthur furrowed his brow. “How come I ain’t ever seen you draw anything then?”

“Not my fault you never asked.” Hosea said dismissively, shrugging. “You finish up your chores this mornin’?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Want to go fishing with me? I’m sure Miss Bessie would love to change it up, and I could really go for some fish stew.” Hosea winked at Bessie and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah!” Arthur said excitedly.

“Go get your things then, and get the horses ready.” He watched as Arthur scampered off before turning to Bessie.

“I can’t say I ever thought you’d get him to sit still for five minutes, let alone start drawing.” Hosea wrapped his arms around Bessie’s waist, peppering her neck with light kisses.

“He didn’t need much of a push, he’s really quite good. He has a good eye for detail.” She held up the journal for Hosea. “Those horses moved on shortly after he got the shapes down.”

Hosea chuckled, running his hand gently over the lines.

“Let’s hope he keeps with it. Maybe someday he can make a living out of it, get out of this life.”

-- || --

The afternoon had been quiet, the fish bit lazily at their lines and Hosea moved around the other side of the lake to see if he could have better luck. Arthur’s line moved slowly with the breeze. They had been at it for hours but only had a few small perch to show for it. Hosea had been convinced that this lake had some big bass, but they’d yet to pull a single one.

He liked these quiet afternoons with Hosea, the man had become something like a father to him. He wasn’t sure if fishing was his favorite, but Hosea loved it, and it got him time away from chores.

Arthur watched as Hosea cast his line into the clear water, the ripples reflecting the sun’s rays, creating a pattern of perfect rings on the glassy surface. His mind wandered back to what Bessie had said about why she kept a journal and he dug his rod into the soft earth near the water.

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the journal that Hosea had given him back when they were teaching him to write. Flipping to a blank page near the back he settled down on one of the fallen logs by the shore to write.

Spent some time with Hosea today, I never know if the man is telling me the truth or spinning me a tale. But he’s kind to me, even when I don’t deserve it. I know he was madder than a tom cat yesterday that I got into that fight. Today we went fishing, not much biting, but that didn’t stop Hosea from having a good time.

I’m trying out this journal again, ain’t quite sure what to say, but missus Bessie says it’s a nice way to look back on things we may not always remember. So I’m gonna try.

Bessie is teaching me to draw. She draws the most beautiful pictures I’ve ever seen, and her handwriting is real pretty, nothing like my chicken scratch. Maybe she can teach me how to make them fancy looping letters, that’d be nice.

He sketched Hosea down near the water, the ripples from his line breaking up the surface of the lake. It was easier than the horses from earlier, Hosea had committed to his spot and only a light breeze blew through the trees and across the water.

The clicks of his reel pulled him out of the drawing and he looked up to see the tip of his rod arching toward the water. He snatched it up pulling back to set the hook, feeling the line go taut as the fish fought against him.

He pulled the fish from the water, it put up enough of a fight to draw Hosea’s attention and he had made his way back over.

“Looks like a decent fish, what you got there, Arthur?”

Arthur held up the fish, “Seems like maybe some kind of bass?”

Hosea clapped excitedly. “Our white whale!” He chuckled “Few more of those and we’ll have a proper stew!”

-- || --

“How’d that lead shake out?” Bessie looked up over the top of her journal as Hosea ducked into their tent.

“Looks promising. That couple is sitting on quite a bit of cash. I’m sure they wouldn’t miss some of it.” Hosea pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“How’d Arthur do?” Bessie closed her journal as Hosea joined her on their palet.

“The kid should have been an actor.” Hosea smiled, leaning back.

Bessie glanced over, raising an eyebrow. Hosea sighed, knowing the look all too well.

“I shouldn’t have to say it, you know it’s true.” He rolled his eyes, trying to hide the smile.

“His improvement is amazing. The way he sees the world, I have never seen anything like it. It’s like he sees the world in pictures, that he can pull from with such incredible detail. He’s nearly filled that journal. I think it’s been good for him. To have a place to keep his thoughts.”

Hosea was quiet for a moment. Arthur had seemed calmer, the kid appeared to enjoy the journal, whatever he was putting in there. He had been a bit hesitant to ask him what he was doing, worried it would discourage him.

“I imagine it is, he’s a kid. We’re adults, he doesn’t have anyone his age to talk to, so an outlet probably does him some good.” He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. “You were right, per usual.”

She pressed a kiss to his jaw, closing her journal. “I know,” she said gently, wrapping her arm around him.

#rdr secret cupid 2021 #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #hosea matthews #bessie matthews #rdr2 fanfic #fluff #horses #hyde tries writing #hyde draws shit

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jessie-writes-things · 3 years

Text

From the Darkness | Part 1

This is a commission from the lovely @grogusmum! I'm so so so sorry for how late this is love! Life got in the way a bit. Originally I was gonna do this as one giant piece, but you've been waiting too long and so I just needed to get something out. This ended up being a bit more soft-angst rather than fluff but I tried my best to balance it out. The next part will be full-on found family fluff though! 🥰

This whole thing stemmed from that throwaway line 'I've spent much time on Tatooine' from The Marshall. Basically, I just liked the idea of Din having a somewhat secret life hidden away there. It gets explained a bit more in the second part, but that's really all the context you need right now. 😅🥰

Pairing: Din Djarin x Neutral Reader

Words: 2.5k

Genre: Found family, fluff, soft angst

Warnings: Star Wars level violence, vague mentions of PTSD/Trauma, nightmares

Summary: Din comes home to Tattooine and you spend the night on the Razor Crest.

You always heard the Razor Crest before you saw it. The loud hum of the clunky engine made you jump every single time and you had always wondered how long it would be until the ship just dropped out the sky.

Your answer came quicker than you thought. It was around midnight when the first signs came, snippets of voices fluttered by like quiet, sleep-laced whispers on the wind.

See you we do! Coming home we are!

Then came the ship barrelling onto the landing pad, and you weren’t dramatic in saying you thought the planet was about to explode; walls rumbling, ground vibrating. Peli had been prompted to spew out a few choice words, stepping outside just as you did to watch the slivers of silver moonlight spring off the ship as it finally settled down.

The landing had been…less than graceful to say the least. The engine sounded worse than you’ve ever heard. One of her feet had been ripped clear off, making her tilt to the side at an unnerving angle and you didn’t even want to think about the number of outer plates there were to replace.

What worried you more was the look of annoyance on your boss’s face, pinched and red, and you just had enough time to convince her to head back to bed, promising to deal with The Mandalorian until morning. And thank every planet in the galaxy she listened because if the Crest hadn’t woken up the neighbourhood, you knew she sure as hell would of.

There was an etiquette, you learned through years of working on the hanger; you should never enter a person’s ship first. To regulars, it was like walking into someone’s home without being invited. But so early in the morning you weren’t for niceties.

You walked up that ramp like pray on a hunt, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and you may have stumbled a bit, but it was a hunt.

The Mandalorian was clearly waiting for you, sitting in the cockpit, the baby asleep in his pod although you had no doubt he was listening to every word.

Very out of character, he was the first to speak, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘It’s okay.’ It wasn’t…well, it was. You were just grumpy and tired and wanted to go back to bed, ‘She looks a mess.’

‘Can you fix her?’

You had assumed her mess from the work of another bounty gone wrong, maybe Mar again but you weren’t in the right mind to ask. ‘Depends.’

‘On?’

‘What you’re about to ask me to do next.’

There was a silence, a comfortable one but silence, nevertheless. Eyes heavy, you were fading fast, head resting against the passenger seat you had claimed as your own. You weren’t too sure if you had fallen asleep or not. You closed your eyes for what felt like a moment too long and when they opened again, Din had shifted his seat to look at you.

‘We need to stay for a few days.’ His head tilted like a little puppy dog. Helmet still on, you were left trying to imagine how he looked in that moment; eyes squinted, crinkled around the sides in admiration.

Not the exact words you wanted to hear, but not surprising in the slightest.

You decided to push again, ‘Anything else?’

He was smiling, at least you were sure he was, his voice sounding a little lighter despite the artificial muffle of the modulator, ‘Come to bed?’

---

I caught a frog today. Very big frog. I wanted to show you. But ManDad was not very happy with the frog in the big ship. So I ate it, I did. Miss you lots, I did. And so did ManDad. Smiles when he thinks about you, he does. I feel the happiness. Thank you for making him happy.

---

Turns out it hadn’t been Mar that took a hit at his ship.

There had been an incident, Din told you in the quiet of darkness, arms wrapped around you, his head buried safely. Long tufts of hair tickled your jaw and chin whenever he moved or talked, about due for a haircut but that was a battle for another day.

‘Moff Gideon is dead.’ But so was Kuill, the kind Ugnaught who had helped at the start of all this mess. Whatever was left of the Empire was still after the kid and Din still needed to find the Jedi. ‘Karga’s still alive.’

‘I thought he double-crossed you?’ At some point his head had moved onto your chest, letting your fingers card through his hair. You could just about see his face in the small cracks of light, not that he needed to hide anymore, sometimes you think the dark was comforting for him.

The smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips and you really hoped it was because of your touch and not the thought of the Guild agent. Small wins and all that, you guessed. Better to have Greef around than no one at all.

‘I can’t stay long.’ His voice wavered, ever so slightly. You had become accustomed to the bittersweetness of it all, stroking the back of his neck as your heavy eyes began to droop again.

‘That’s okay.’ While it felt like a brick being thrown at your chest, you understood. Truly. The entire Empire was after the kid and, subsequently, him. Not to mention the constant battle against other hunters who had it out for his head.

Because while you knew time was finite with him, at least you had something.

---

Happy to be home we are. ManDad gets lonely sometimes. Feel it I do. I try my best to make him smile but sometimes it does not work. Make him happy, you do. A man should not be lonely for too long, he must not, for loneliness can be deadly. When I am gone, look after him you must. Promise?

---

Quiet moments in the dark were always the loudest for Grogu. Like father like son, you guessed. Neither of them liked the stillness much, both of their minds racing faster than the speed of light. It was always easier to read them in these moments. Flashes of images blended into a mosaic behind your eyes as you tried to hold down a specific part of a memory or a dream.

Some nights it was easier than others. There were times Grogu would sense you in his mind and would purposefully push an image forward, always something he thought was silly like a particularly funny looking frog or a memory of Din singing to some cheesy eighties song you had left behind on a CD during their last visit.

The colourful rhythm and syncopated beats making the walls of the Razor Crest dance along with them and you did everything not to burst out laughing in the still night, biting your lip only for a small snort to escape. Din caught on, barely opening his eyes a crack to mumble out some half-arsed are you okay before rolling over and heading back to sleep again.

It was easier to read Din when he was asleep. Not that you did it much or even intended to in the first place. But sleep tore down the walls he had spent years building up, subconsciously pushing the dreams into your mind. If Grogu’s thoughts were a lulled whisper, Din’s were white noise. Fuzzy static took up most of the space, at times slipping to let through blips of voices or a grainy picture of long past memories. They were too quick to get a full idea of what he was dreaming about.

A boy.

The pop of blasters.

A woman screaming.

One deep breath and the image faded. Din would wake for a moment, eyes closed and he’d turn back to face you. His chest shook, barely and nothing noticeable normally, but you caught it, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and mumbling a soft it’s okay as he settled back into you.

---

Today was not so bad, it was not. But sometimes I still think about the dark place. Scary and lonely was I. For a long, long time. Then there’s light and I see ManDad for the first time. And then everything is better, it is! No longer do I need to fear the dark.

---

Like always, Grogu climbed out of his pod early morning and forced the doors of the sleeping pad open, giving him room to wiggle his way between Din and you. These were the times you’d feel the tug of his mind at the doors of yours, asking permission to be allowed in.

If your consciousness was awake enough, you’d let him, letting the Green Bean explore the distorted images of Earth and your past life. You would find him standing next to you, present you, in the middle of the dirtied street, dark and damp as rain pounded on the concrete around you, drowning out the screams of the people as they rushed by.

He’d hold his arms up, a quiet hold me please passing by and you’d take him in your arms, holding him close. Sparks of fear rolled through you, weighed down by dread and it was hard to tell if it was coming from Grogu or your past self.

Clouds filled the sky like grey shadows. It had taken you a long time to realise they weren’t normal, that the clouds were too big, were floating by too quick to be anything natural.

That had been the first time you saw them. Aliens. Or what people on Earth would think of as aliens. Tall, grey, slimy, the stuff you had only ever seen on TV and they were now shooting from the skies in streaks of red light. Streets pathed in dust that smelt like ash and day-old water.

The two of you walked through the mess like ghosts, people running left and right and through you, some in slow motion while some were ungodly in their speed. They all died in the end. Zapped out of existence by a singular lazar.

Someone yelled about children. Save the children. Spare the children. Collect the children. Round them up near the hanger, discard the ones we don’t need, you know the ones I mean, don’t talk back to me. Their voice washed over you in cold chills, sounding so far underwater that they might as well not be there at all.

A man stopped in front of you. Tall dressed in all black. A human man staring right at you. He didn’t look panicked like the rest, was calm and collected as he pulled out his gun and aimed so perfectly right at your head. You didn’t move, didn’t duck for cover as he pulled the trigger.

You should know better than to look.

There’s a woman behind you. Was a woman behind you. She’s dead when you turn around, a pile of smoking ash on the cobbled path, already being washed away by the rain.

Then there was the child, arms still stretched out to hold their mother’s hand, eyes wide in fear but they don’t cry. No matter how much their heart is racing. No matter how much they want to scream as the man grabs their arm and drags them away, throwing them in line with the rest of them, waiting for their turn to be scanned and thrown in the hanger.

They don’t scream, even when the doors slam shut and darkness is all that’s left.

---

Awake, are you? Sleep I cannot. Wonder if ManDad knows how much I love him, I do. ManDad is amazing he is. He saved me from the dark and keeps me safe, he does. Let’s me eat cookies, he does. Such lovely cookies. Try some, you must. But ManDad hurts, I feel. Feel his heavy heart, I do. So much pain and loss cause a man to be sad. Want him to be sad I do not. When I am gone, please tell him all the time that he is special, he is. Always be my buir, he will.

---

‘Buir.’ Grogu sat on your stomach, watching with wide, curious eyes as he followed your finger to where Din moved back and forth getting ready to head out. It was just some low-level bounty, armature work really, but that didn’t stop the anxiety from budding in the pit of your stomach. Distractions curved the nausea, curled up with the pod door open, blanket tucked under your chin with the residual warmth of his body still hugging you, ‘He’s your buir.’

Din hadn’t put his helmet back on yet, the roll of his eyes contrasted with the small half-smile on his lips. In the light, it was easier to see the damage he had taken during his last fight. There was only so much an ex-bounty-turned-nursing droid and some bacta spray could do. The large gash across his forehead looked painful and you made a mental note to check it over when he returned.

‘Don��t teach him that.’

‘Why not?’

There was a pause. You caught the way the small smile faltered, wavering with doubt and uncertainty and maybe a hint of sadness although that last part was hard to tell. And while the wall Din had built around himself was thick, sadness was strong enough to creep through the cracks. Even Grogu noticed, large ears pricking, head tilting in ManDad’s direction with a small coo.

‘Aliit ori'shya tal'din.’

‘You’ve been practicing.’ The words were light, a brow quirked in your direction and you knew what it meant; you’re adorable. Thank you for trying. At least he was smiling, finishing up the last buckle on his holster ‘Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.’

Maybe you should have been more surprised by the slip of his tongue. The way he carried on getting dressed, not even pausing once at his mistake.

You had heard him say those words before a hundrad times or more. But you wondered how long he had meant those words. Months? Years? Was it a new development? Was it something he had always known?

But there was no surprise. Instead, a warmth planted itself in your chest, and it grew, branches stretching to fill every ounce of your being until it was all you could feel.

‘Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.’ His eyes widened at your mimicked words. The pronunciation was still a bit off and sometimes the emphasis was stressed on the wrong bits, but it was nice to know you were close enough that he understood you, ‘I know what it means now. You can’t trick me anymore.’

Din picked up the helmet and put it on before you had the chance to see the full smile that bloomed, but you heard it, the hints of pure happiness shining through the modulated, ‘I was never trying to trick you.’

You fought back your own smile. The heat spreading across your cheeks told a different story though, serving as a reminder of years old built-up emotions neither of you had time to unpack at that moment.

So, you did what you both did best. You quickly changed the topic, shifting your attention back to the Green Bean plopped on your stomach, happily teething on the small silver ball he sneakily snatched from the controls. A few seconds later and his attention found yours, giving you a gleeful smile as he held out the ball as a peace offering.

‘Ba'buir.’ You pointed back at Din and Grogu laughed, ‘He’s your Ba'buir.’

But Din was already out of sight, halfway to the door when he called back, ‘He’s older than me!’

Older, I surely am. And wiser. Yet know, you do not. Be careful ManDad For space can be dark and dangerous.

The lock hissed as it opened, seemingly louder in the suddenly quiet Razor Crest, ‘Be careful.’

‘Always.’

---

buir = parent

Aliit ori'shya tal'din = "Family is more than blood."

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum ="I love you."; literally: "I will know you forever."

Ba'buir = grandparent

#jessie writes #grogusmum #commission #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian soft angst #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst #din djarin fanfic #grogu #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fluff

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shinydelirium · 3 years

Text

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 21 (Kiro) Part 3 [Taking a Risk] & [Little Star] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

For previous translations of chapter 21: Part 1/ Part 2

[Taking A Risk]

Warm light reflects off the vintage crystal chandelier, casting fine shadows on the wall.

I returned to my room the next day. The service of storing Evol seemed to require a special number to be called.

I looked at the introduction in the hotel guide and dialed the number written on it.

Waiter: Hello, what can I do for you?

MC: Ahem, hello, I want to enjoy the service of storing Evol. How do I do it?

Waiter: What is your Evol type?

MC: ….My Evol deals with memory.

Waiter: Okay, the information has been registered for you.

Waiter: Please wait in the room for a moment. We will send a dedicated service staff to serve you.

I put down the phone and looked at Helios standing to the side with a worried look.

Helios: Now, we wait.

However, a few hours passed and there was still no sign of movement.

I leaned on the soft pillow a little nervously, looked towards the cabinet opposite me, and spoke quietly.

MC: …Helios, are you asleep?

After a while, a questioning sound came from the cabinet.

Helios: I’m asleep.

Hearing what he said, I couldn’t help but smile.

MC: Then Mr. Sleep Talker, shouldn’t you open the cabinet door a little bit to let some air out?

MC: Besides, this room has been checked and there’s no monitor, so you don’t have to hide so soon.

The air fell silent again and soon the cabinet door creaked to reveal a gap.

The light outside the door instantly spilled in, making those azure blue eyes clearer.

I lowered my head and looked at the closet. The space inside was really small. He could only sit down on the wooden board with his legs bent and his knees pressed to his chest.

Such a well-behaved sitting position matched with that expression.

I snickered in my heart and rested my head on my hand.

MC: After we leave this place, shall we go on a walk together and bask in the sun?

Helios: ….

The cabinet door became quiet again and occasionally I could hear shallow breathing.

I was about to change the subject when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Almost instantly, the faint beam of light from the cabinet door disappeared once more.

??: Dear guest, the service you requested has been processed.

??: If you’re ready, please press the button inside the handle.

MC: Okay.

I walked past the closet and knocked lightly with my fingertips. I went to the door and bent down.

With his reminder, I noticed that there was an extremely tiny button on the deep side of the handle.

MC: …This is too secretive.

The moment the button was pressed, the side wall suddenly pushed back and slowly pulled away to the left.

A waiter stood behind the hidden door and politely bowed.

Waiter: Pardon me.

MC: …Don’t you think this is a bit scary?

Waiter: In order to ensure the privacy of each guest, I am sorry that it has brought you a bad experience. We will make better improvements next time.

MC: …..

Waiter: Please follow me.

I walked into the secret door with no expression on my face. Then, I turned a corner into a deep corridor and I secretly felt that it was no wonder that Helios couldn’t find it.

This is too well hidden.

We walked into the elevator and the waiter pressed the only button on the panel.

The elevator shook slightly. The waiter frowned and looked up.

I vaguely guessed the reason for the elevator shaking so I spoke up. ***Is Helios gonna take a ride on top of the elevator??? So badass!!!***

MC: What’s the matter?

Waiter: Ah, I’m apologize for making you feel anxious.

Waiter: This elevator doesn’t normally shake.

MC: Probably your imagination? This elevator feels very stable to me. ***MC is getting better at her acting skills 😆***

The waiter nodded and faced the elevator door again.

The ride took longer than expected and it took about a minute before the elevator slowly came to a stop.

After we walked another long corridor, we finally stopped in front of a wooden door. The waiter knocked gently on the door before pushing it away, turned around and made an inviting gesture with his hand to me.

I walked in and found that it was just an extremely normal room. There was nothing around that indicated a device to store Evol.

At the table in the middle of the room was a man who looked seventy or eighty years old, and behind him stood a very burly man.

The elderly man was very old. His thick eyelids were pulled down low, almost covering both eyes.

He raised his eyes laboriously, reached out his fingers and tapped on the table, motioning me to sit down.

I sat in front of the old man. My other hand quietly touched the anesthesia gun at my waist.

Old man: Extend your hand.

MC: Before I do that, can you tell me the process of how Evol is stored first?

MC: Even though I requested the service, I also have the right to ask how it works.

The old man didn’t speak as if he was about to fall asleep.

Man: Guest, your hand is part of the process.

The man behind him replied in a low voice and walked to my side with a sense of unspeakable oppression.

MC: …

Man: Guest, is there a problem?

??: The problem is you.

An intense silver light appeared behind the man like a ghost and the chilling light made those blue eyes look even colder.

Almost instantaneously, his question was interrupted by the sound of broken bones in the air.

The swift figure resembled a crescent silver moon, leaving traces like a shadow.

The man was unresponsive as if he didn’t care about his slightly twisted arm. A silver pillar made iron steel condensed in the palm of his hand and he swung it at Helios.

Helios pulled out two handles from behind his waist. The knife blades clashed against the silver pillar, making a harsh rubbing sound.

At the same time, I immediately grabbed the stiff and somewhat lethargic old man and hid off to the side.

This old man is definitely a certain key and we can’t let him get injured here.

I can’t help much at this time but at least I won’t hinder Helios.

A look of surprise flashed in the man’s eyes. After thinking for a bit, he waved his hand and countless small, silver needles appeared in the air, shooting them straight at Helios.

Only the silver light is no longer there.

In the moment of confusion, Helios had already appeared behind him. The cold knife reflecting the man’s terrified eyes.

Helios: Fool.

There was not even a scream but a faint voice came.

Helios held the dagger and walked towards the old man with a blank face, covering most of the light in the room, looking at him condescendingly.

Helios: I don’t have time for nonsense.

Helios: Who are you?

[Little Star]

The old man shivered at the figure shining in the cold light, breathless with fear.

Old man: Don’t kill me. I, I was threatened….

He opened his mouth blankly, ready to say something.

All of a sudden, the air around him instantly became distorted, gradually swallowing his body and began to dissipate like a bubble.

In the middle of disappearing, the old man tried hard to hold onto Helios’ hand.

But it only passed through his body.

Old man: Please, you….must help me….

In the silent room, there was only a trembling echo, as if the old man was never there.

I stared blankly at what was happening, a bit in disbelief.

MC: Helios, he’s…

Helios: Leave here first.

As he said that, he stretched out his hand to pull me.

Suddenly, the floor under our feet began to shake, and an inexplicable sense of dizziness filled my entire brain which caused me to lean back.

Helios: MC!

A black line ran across us suddenly like a crack. I stretched out my hand and in my peripheral vision, I saw Helios preparing to jump—

In the next second, the entire space seemed to rotate violently and the huge inertia forced me to slam into the wall on my right.

The scenery in front of me is like a pop-up book that has been quickly flipped through, continuously changing and becoming blurry.

I curled up in pain. The heavy pain constantly eroding my willpower.

MC: Helios…

I feel like I lost consciousness.

Under the night sky, in the center of the fountain with exquisite patterns, water gushed out of the nozzle from the statue.

A man was sitting on a recliner by the fountain, looking at a Rubik’s Cube suspended diagonally in the air.

He raised his head, staring alertly at the old man sitting on the ground.

??: You’re really going to cause trouble for me.

While he said this, the man’s eyes flashed with excitement and madness, his fingers shaking.

The Rubik’s Cube began to flicker with strange lights and flipped over.

??: But I also see that he’s been quite the eyesore for a long time. I can finally crush him now, right?

Helios: ….

Helios: ….MC.

Helios: Kilo, display location.

Amongst the chaos, I vaguely heard an extremely anxious and nervous voice reach my ears.

Helios: Damn it.

Helios: MC!! Can you hear me?!

I opened my eyes slowly and my body felt like it was falling apart. I wanted to lift my right arm to prop myself up, but immediately felt the sharp pain.

The scene in front me seemed to be split with half of it that was the room I was previously in and the other half a dense bamboo forest.

MC: ….I can hear you.

As soon as I made a sound, the rapid breathing in my ear seemed to stop for a moment.

Helios: Are you hurt anywhere?

I smiled bitterly, pulled myself and sat in a corner, trying hard to stand up.

MC: It seems that I hit arm when I crashed into the wall.

Although it was very painful that I wanted to cry, I managed to make my voice not sound so weak.

Helios: …Does it hurt?

His voice was very soft, with some far-off and familiar tenderness in it, making my nose tingle instantly.

For a while, I was a little confused, either from the intense pain or the softness that I hadn’t heard for a long time.

***If you choose the top answer: “It hurts”***

MC: ….It hurts.

MC: *sniffles*….It really hurts.

I couldn’t hold back the emotions surging in my heart and the grievances I had suppressed also came pouring out.

Helios: …Don’t cry.

I rarely heard his voice sound so flustered. It sounds just like the bewildered boy in my memory.

***If you choose the bottom answer: “It doesn’t hurt”***

MC: I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt at all.

I was full of vigor and laughed, holding my arm. Gritting my teeth, tears came from my eyes unconsciously.

MC: What about you? Are you okay...?

Helios: MC.

On the other side of the line, Helios interrupted me smoothly.

Helios: The sound of your tears falling on the ground is loud.

I blinked, pressed my mouth, and vigorously wiped the tears with the back of my hand.

MC: How can that be...

A soft laugh came to my ears, like a feather, warming my heart.

Helios: I will be by your side soon so don’t cry.

MC: Then sing to me and I’ll stop.

Helios: ….

As soon as I spoke, I heard the sound of heavy objects rolling along the ground.

The sound of the wind kept passing by and Helios seemed to be running quickly, with a slight gasp from time to time.

My heart lurched suddenly and I felt a bad premonition rise up.

MC: What happened to you…..? Are you in some dangerous space again?

After a moment of silence, Helios replied with an answer that was completely irrelevant to my question.

Helios: What do want to hear me sing?

I was stunned. The whistling sound in my ear continued.

MC: It doesn’t matter. You must ensure your safety first!

Helios: How about “Little Star” (aka “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star)?

MC: ….

The sound of the heavy objects rolling was getting closer and closer in my ears as if they wanted to run him over.

In the huge roar, a leisurely singing voice rang in my ears.

Helios: Twinkle twinkle, little star….

Helios: How I wonder what you are.

Those loud noises seemed to be shielded by a transparent film and only his faint singing voice remained in the whole world.

Gentle and firm.

His singing was mixed with rapid breaths and at this moment, it was like a soft embrace that enveloped me in it.

When the last melody descended softly, the chilling sound of a dagger being thrown ended the roar altogether and the world fell silent.

Helios: Don’t cry anymore.

His uncertain questions made me rub my eyes dumbfoundedly.

MC: Amazing, it doesn’t hurt anymore.

A soft laugh came from my ear and I seemed to be able to imagine his helpless smile.

MC: Helios, where do I go?

Helios: You’re injured so stay where you are.

MC: My hand is fine! Although I still don’t understand the operating structure of this space….

MC: But if we both head in the same direction, it will definitely be quicker!

Helios: ….

MC: Let’s go together.

I straightened up, looked at the door I front of me and said firmly to him.

The silent sound of running and the “whoosh” of a knife blade rushed into my ears. I quietly waited for his response.

Helios: Alright.

Helios: Let’s do it.

He let out a long sigh of relief, without saying a word, as if looking for our next route.

Helios: Open the door behind you.

Helios: Walk slowly.

MC: Roger!

I held out my arm and opened the door without hesitation in accordance with his instructions and strode inside.

I looked around and found myself standing on the stairs of an abandoned building. His voice immediately came to my ears.

Helios: Go up and push open the door on the top floor.

I turned and moved precisely according to his directions.

Obviously we are far apart from each other, but he knows where I am at this moment. It felt like he was right beside me.

I opened the door and was greeted by the bright sun shining in my eyes.

Taking a look, I found myself standing on the roof of a bell tower.

Helios: Grab hold of something. The Rubik’s Cube is about to turn.

I reacted instinctively and immediately grabbed a heavy rope after hearing his words.

Right afterwards, the familiar feeling of inversion came and I closed my eyes and held onto the rope tightly, waiting for the rotation to stop.

Soon the world returned back to normal. I opened my eyes and found that the scene in front of me hadn’t changed much.

***THIS IS SO INSANE AND I LOVE IT!!!***

Helios: Is your arm okay?

MC: No worries!

He was quiet for a while as if deciding on something.

Helios: MC, jump down.

I couldn’t help being startled, moving my feet and looking down.

The bell tower extends into the clouds. Thick clouds hang in the air and the howling wind beats against me, constantly reminding me of how high the bell tower is.

Breathing deeply, I climbed to the edge of the clock tower.

Helios: You can also wait for me to come see you.

He seemed to guess what I was thinking and his tone was softer than before.

MC: It’s no good if only one person is doing all the running.

After speaking, I took a deep breath and jumped.

The light, shadow and wind rushed past my ears, but I didn’t have the slightest timidness in my heart.

Because I know that this can get me a little bit closer to him. ***YES!!! THAT’S MY GIRL!!! GO TO YOUR MAN!!!😭😭😭 KIRO AND MC RUNNING TOWARDS EACH OTHER HENCE THE REASON WHY THE KARMA IS CALLED “RUN TO YOU” 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕

As I continued to fall, the space on the ground became distorted again until finally forming a door.

On the other end of the gate is a net woven with countless colorful soft bands which safely stopped my fall.

I steadied my heartbeat and looked up to find that this was a trampoline.

Sponges of different shapes were staggered and stacked and there was a door on the diving platform directly above.

MC: Helios, there’s a door on the platform not far away. Should I go there?

Helios: MC, go…

His voice became sporadic until a harsh electric static rang out and then nothing.

MC: Helios….?

I called his name but I didn’t hear any response.

MC: Did the communication get interrupted?

I looked at the door in the distance, thinking about what Helios didn’t finish saying.

Does he want me to go there? Or does he want me to choose another door?

I pursed my mouth, looked around, and found that there were several identical doors in the distance.

I hesitated and finally my eyes came back to the door on the diving platform.

Inexplicable intuition told me that he wanted me to go through this door.

MC: Take a gamble.

I stood up, climbed onto the platform, and grabbed the upper door handle—

Then, I was met by an endless stream of cars whizzing past me.

[End of Part 3]

This chapter is crazy!!! So much excitement, action, and sweet moments between Kiro and MC!!! My heart!!!🥺💕

#spoilers #mlqc #mlqc spoilers #translations #mlqc translations #mlqc season 2 translations #mlqc season 2 #kiro #kiro spoilers #kiro season 2 #helios #helios spoilers #helios season 2 #love and producer #mr love queen's choice #mr love dream date #mldd

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fairytsuk1 · 3 years

Text

sweet japan breeze | (f)

pairing: izuku midoriya x reader

genre: fluff

words: 3.2k

summary:

Midoriya grins as he traces the soft bridge of your nose, immediately looking away when you turn.

"Is there something on my face?"

"No! No, not at all."

Just the lack of a kiss, is all.

Sweat soaks through your white collared shirt and a string of curses towards the Department of Rare-Quirked Animals goes with it. Gracing you with a uniform more befitting of a tennis player, you grumble noisily. The net handle nearly slips out of your slick hands until you fumble and hold it with a grip that turns your palms white. You can see Midoriya’s green hair appear in your field of vision. He’s trying to act as if he isn’t squinting and analyzing your every behavior, but he is. The look makes you feel like you’re the rare-quirked animal.

“...What,” you squint back at him, squaring your shoulders to face him head on, “are you looking at?”

“What?! Sorry, were you concentrating? You just looked really stressed so I thought you might want a snack,” Midoriya whips his head left and right before sheepishly smiling at you, “I think we’re off trail anyways, my bad!”

You can’t find it in yourself to be annoyed with him, he’s been your partner since you first joined the DORQA. Your head aches at the thought of the insufferable acronym. If you had to see one more poster promoting their stupid monogram, you might need to be locked up.

But him. Your partner Izuku Midoriya...he always had a gleam in his emerald eyes no matter the job, and he always regarded you with a warm smile! He was the epitome of warmth and sunshine, your heart twinged at the thought of you ruining that with your sourpuss attitude.

Your hand brushes his as you take the protein bar, Midoriya’s face lighting up into beautiful shades of salmon. His back straightens and the apples of his cheeks lift. He’s so inexperienced that it’s funny to watch. He was also definitely a people-pleaser; normally you’d poke fun of him but you were too exhausted to do anything but munch on the almond-chocolate bar.

“I’m gonna radio back to headquarters so we can go back to our tent and get some dinner.”

He pulls his radio out and extends the antenna before turning away to call. A realization dawns on you whilst scanning the clear sky. It’s been four days and the white speckled fox was nowhere to be found. There hadn’t even been droppings or footprints; classifying it as extinct would make your life a lot easier but would lead to repercussions in Aizawa’s office. Aizawa...well, you didn’t want to know what would happen if you even dared to think about it.

There was absolutely no way you were going to let him call headquarters and let them know you’d failed on the excursion you begged to go on. It was just plain humiliating; the thought of Bakugou’s smug grin made you want to strangle someone. Bakugou wasn’t even here!

Midoriya had been moments away from speaking until a big fat finger slammed onto the hang-up button. Your foot beat on the ground, aura reeking of stubbornness. Midoriya cried out and turned to remedy the building lecture he was going to receive from Aizawa. You were quicker than him, swiping like a cat and jerking the phone from his grasp. The device cascaded into soft dirt and was nearly squashed under steel-toed boots.

“No way are we telling headquarters we haven’t found that damn fox yet, we’ll be here till we die as far as I’m concerned,”

“But I feel like we’re getting burnt out! Aizawa will understand!”

A loud sigh rings out as you press your palm to your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut as an attempt to calm down. “Understand my ass!” Retrieving his phone, you toss it to the boy and he lets out a sigh of relief.

“Let’s just go back to camp, okay? I can sway you with more food, can’t I?”

Your cheek twitches with the urge to smile as your eyes roll, settling on him dramatically. You cross your arms, he wasn’t going to win this battle.

“You think I’m gonna listen to you?”

“No, but I think I’m the more responsible one out of the two of us so I should at least try!”

Your shoulders drop as your jaw opens, a gasp of disbelief coming from your lips. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve screamed about the toxicity in the workplace as you stomped to Toshinori’s office. But in this moment, all you could feel was warmth washing over you. Embarrassment, you were responsible!

“I can be very responsible for your information, write that down in your little notebook!”

Picking up the forgotten net with a harrumph, you stomp your shoe to kick off dirt before walking away. Only two steps ahead, your body quickly turns around adorning the smile of someone who was losing their mind.

“You may be more responsible, but I’m more determined! I’m finding that fucking fox and you can come with me or not!”

You secretly pray he won’t report this, the termination letter left on your desk would be the final straw, your new life beginning by moving countries away and living within a secluded cabin. A strand of hair falls into your face and frustration explodes out of you with ascream. Shaking your hair out before tying it back up, Midoriya’s lips are strawberry and swollen at that point. With the way he’s biting them; they’ll turn into a pretty cherry red soon.

He shakes his head too, clearing the budding laugh in his lungs. He might’ve even looked a bit beautiful had he not been laughing at you.

He was such a nerd.

“Of course I’m coming, what kind of partner would I be if I didn’t? Besides, you need someone to keep you from losing your mind,” he settles his net on his back (firmly strapped in, he would never let you forget that important tip.) You find yourself looking away. Your eyes tug at the wants of your consciousness, desperate to admire the way his forearm flexed when adjusting his belt.

“Did you know this fox is patient and a hard-worker? Looks like you two are total opposites.”

You don’t miss the subtle dig and there’s a bruise to your ego with the way he smirks at you. Retaliation comes easy when your arms swing to capture his head in your net, a proud grin covering up the hearty laugh.

“Whoops! Looks like I caught a total dork in the wild, how’d that happen?”

His voice feels like the sunshine shining on your skin as he shakes his hair out, fluffy with his sweat gleaming under the rays. You only had a few hours left till you were blinded, only able to see his freckles in the shadow of an orange fire. The cool air that would breeze through as the two of you sat in silence, tension soon replacing the chilling wind. You slept in separate tents, professionalism was still a thing.

But you did wonder how it would feel to cuddle up under his arm and stare at the tent ceiling together. Maybe even the sky on a grassy patch in the summer. You envied your daydreams.

Every once in a while, Midoriya’s tracker beeped to remind you of where you are (well, not really, it was so you didn’t die out in the middle of nowhere) which knocks you completely out of your haze. There was no red, white, speckles, or fox anywhere. Anger courses through you at the thought of having to return back to camp empty-handed; your shoes stomping harder into mud. You rub your eyes before taking a deep breath, ready to zero in on the next nearby animal.

“We should probably go back soon, I think I might run out of water unless we find a stream but then…”

Your partner’s voice fades into obscurity when you see it, a flash of white in the corner of your eye. So fast you might have almost missed it if it weren’t for your keen senses. You could practically hear the crunching of leaves as it ran behind a bush.

In that moment it would’ve been much better to yell shhh and come at it with an element of your surprise. Your mind blanks, legs springing into action with a fierce jump. Your vocal chords could only make out one word.

“FOX!”

Both bodies soar through the air, Midoriya following your lead as you crash through the bush. Bramble sticks you in your side and your eyes shut to embrace the impact your elbows, your whole body really, were about to receive. Wind knocks out of you as you grin once you can feel yourself fully settled on the ground.

“I got you, you little…” your eyes open. You blink once, twice, you even squeeze them a bit, “...bastard.”

There is no fox, even the trees have gone silent. The pinecone with white sparkles on it sits perched perfectly on its bottom, it’s mocking you. Surely.

“That’s—”

“I know what it is, Midoriya.”

Shivers run across his skin at your cold throaty voice. Your head plunks into the ground, you lay there for a bit. It hurts so bad, if only the Earth could crack open and swallow you whole. Maybe falling into the Earth’s crust wasn’t so bad, burning to death must be colder than the shame that courses through your veins.

You can practically taste it in your saliva.

How was it possible to have made this...this rookie mistake?

“I want to die, Midoriya.”

He shushes you and lays a warm, large hand between your shoulder blades to comfort you. He winces when the shirt drags across your skin due to the moisture soaked through it.

Gross. He opts for patting your back lightly.

“It’s alright, we all make mistakes.”

“I’m considering quitting the field. How much do accountants make?”

You can hear the smile in his voice, “an actual accountant? Or is that a metaphor for something else?” He’s holding back his laugh, snorts coming out every few seconds.

Your head shoots up to give him an incredulous look, you didn’t even think he knew about that type of stuff. Let alone have the bravery to say it, your mouth opens and closes as you scramble to find something to say.

“You’re a pervert!”

His laugh echoes in your ears again like before, your own sounding out at the absolute ridiculousness of it all. Leaping towards a pinecone and now lying with a mud stain on your pristine white shirt. Things could not have gone any worse with this type of turn around. Maybe this was the good ending.

Midoriya’s hand reaches to his pocket, digging out his tracker and standing from his squat.

“Ready to go eat some nice soup from a can?”

You snort and push yourself up, kicking the pinecone with the remnants of your anger before turning to him, “soup in a can?”

“It’s all we have…” he trails off and fiddles with his tracker, “soup. Soup is all we have…”

“Yeah, you said that. What’s up? Don’t tell me...did Aizawa find out I did that?! Did you leave your radio on?” you reach towards your pocket and pull your radio out, “did I?...”

The incessant beeping you were used to hearing was silent now. When Midoriya sheepishly looks at you, flashing the dark screen of his device you think you might try to find the nearest cliff.

“Oh wow, oh great. That’s just, it broke? Like just now, it decided to fucking break?”

Rapid nods in quick succession.

“Okay. This isn’t a joke or anything right?”

“No. It is broken and you left yours.”

You spend a few minutes screaming with a stick in your mouth at the sky, the makeshift gag effective at silencing you but the rage still swirls like a storm inside you as you pace incessantly. Midoriya sits on a log, trying to radio in or charge the tracker with sun power (“it doesn’t have that capability!”) but it’s a lost cause.

You’re stuck in the forest.

“Fuck! ”

It’s not long before you’ve given up hope. You’re going to die out here to some sort of animal that will eat the meat off your bones like a plate of ribs.

“Midoriya, I feel like we’re walking in circles. I’m also going to starve to death so we should call it quits.”

“I didn’t know you were so weak! I told you we should've gone back earlier, but you’re stubborn!”

He’s mildly irritated, you can tell by the way his jaw clenches while he looks rapidly for a familiar landmark. You feel bad, you didn’t mean to be so rude. He was way more put together than you were, you needed him.

Your eyes search the surroundings, looking for something to possibly cheer him up. “Berries!” Your hand leaves the back of his shirt and you miss his disappointed frown from the disappearance of your warmth.

“We can eat these, maybe there’s hope after all.”

These are poisonous, you learn this within the first few days. If there was one thing Midoriya liked, it was teaching. You were sure if he weren’t here, he’d be helping some little kid realize their dreams of working in the safari.

“Well, aren’t those like-the poisonous ones?! Don’t put anything in your mouth!” He grabs the bush branch and shakes it away from you, the berries falling with little thumps on the ground.

You grin.

“I must be going crazy, we have got to find a way home before I mistake you for a nice piece of broccoli.”

“Shush. Look, remember when I went to pee? I found a water source.”

You blink, a dead look in your face.

“Listen, I may think you’re attractive but I’m not drinking your pee.”

He scrambles for words and shakes his head with wide eyes.

“Attractive?! I was just-there was a stream so I took the time to purify it!”

“Oh! Well, I just thought you were taking a shit.”

“You’re being inappropriate!”

Had someone been listening in, all they would be able to hear were the pleads from a male and the wonderful laugh of his partner.

Midoriya always felt golden light flow through his chest when you were around. The trail you two were on continued downhill, a man-made path making itself known once the two of you kicked astrew leaves away, it was mutually agreed to head downhill as you (possibly) recalled going uphill to get where you were in the first place.

The stars were beginning to rear their pretty heads, speckling in and out of the sky and it left a heavy feeling in your chest. You didn’t want something to happen to either of you, unconsciously clinging to Midoriya harder, you sighed shakily.

“I was joking before, but I'm actually getting a little nervous.”

You admire his freckled jawline, illuminated by the lantern he’d broken out. He gives you a quick side glance, searching for a trick being placed before nodding.

“Me too. I’m really sorry about the tracker, I should’ve charged it!”

A huff escapes you from the way he was so utterly wrong, you were the one mistaking pinecones for foxes and being ridiculous.

“No way! I was the one being immature, I’m sorry about that one. We should’ve gone back like you said.”

His shoulders square a bit more, your frame shrinking in tandem. You two were like two animals, one protecting the other with its teeth bared and stance wide.

“You’re...You’re really the reason I’m here.”

“What?”

A beat of silence passes through the both of you, your lips ruby red from the way you gnawed on them with your anxiety chilling you.

“I just mean, you’re the reason I joined. You were so little, prattling on and on...It inspired me too. I probably wouldn’t have been able to get here if it wasn’t for you.”

He’s a bit shocked, half his face is lit and you can tell he doesn’t know what to say. His mouth opens and he can’t even resist the ear to ear grin making its way to imprint his feature.

“I-I mean...well! I’m glad,” he takes a deep breath, “I have to tell you something.”

Midoriya’s hands clench at his side, dripping with sweat as you look at him with big eyes, eagerly anticipating his anecdote.

You watch as if it’s slow motion, he takes a breath and the ghost of a word escapes him but the sound of a tiny scream beats him to the finish line. You’re sure he said something, but your eyes flit past his shoulder, lower, to stare dead in the eyes of a white speckled fox.

The two of you stare in a locked gaze as it’s tail swishes back and forth. You don’t even breath, blood rushing in your ears.

“You motherfucker.”

“Huh?”

You bound past Midoriya, heels digging so hard into the ground that dirt flies up in a cloud. It was like you nearly disappeared.

“The fox Midoriya, the fox!” you cry, “I need you!”

He wasn’t sure if it was the fact he’d confessed and your selective hearing had kicked in, or the fact that it was his job. He didn’t know what made him feel so happy, maybe it was the part of you saying you needed him.

A phrase so simple that struck him in the heart. His feet dashed behind you, lantern outstretched as he cried for you, “I’m coming!”

It was like life or death, but it wasn’t. Why did everything feel so emotionally charged? Your thighs ached and the threat of collapsing was gaining on you.

It hit you though, jumping from rock to rock, that red tailing practically swishing in your face.

“I like you. More than partners, like! I want us to, you know, date and stuff.”

It was totally jerky and awkward, but the words registered in your mind when the fox darted into its burrow. You pause, careful to not ruin it’s precious home. Midoriya comes barreling beside you, barely even panting while a stitch in your side wrecks your lungs.

“Did you get it?!”

“You like me?”

Midoriya gives you an incredulous look, “you’re asking that after we just ran all the way here?!”

“It has a family.”

He sighs a loud breath and squats, “yeah. It does.”

You stare at the opening and listen to the soft squeaks in the nighttime air.

“I like you too.”

His head snaps up, voice wavering while you two share an interlocked gaze.

“Really?”

A familiar smirk quirks up, “duh. What kind of a girl follows a boy into the same field if she doesn't like him?”

Oh! He supposed it should’ve been more obvious when it was worded like that. You plop down next to him, leaning fully against him.

“We can’t capture her. She is a mother.”

“I’m glad we agree.”

The stars shine the brightest at this moment, you can’t exactly see his freckles the way you could before but you know they’re still there.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight.”

“I’m glad I could share it with you.”

A soft nudge is given to your shoulder, “I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

You snort and let your head hang. Midoriya resists the urge to kiss you right then and there.

“I don’t know, I guess foxes just do it for me.”

A wordless hum reverberates through his chest, shifting to wrap an arm around you. The moment’s sweet.

“So, how are we going to get back home?”

“I have no idea.”

#izuku x you #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #izuku midoriya fluff

49 notes · View notes

rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

heart of gold (chapter one)

pairing: robert plant x florence bennett (oc)

warnings: domestic abuse, misogyny, description of (past) injury, just... absolute fuckery

words: 3.3k

summary: trapped in a loveless marriage to a powerful man, florence bennett lives every day in despair. after a chance encounter with a golden-haired actor, florence finds that her life will never be the same again.

author’s note: so. this is a nice little period piece, because what else am i gonna do with the history degree i'm studying for. please note that the views of one mr. bennett (and friends) are not my own. hope you enjoy :) feedback, as always, is appreciated!

masterlist

playlist

------

Nightgown swaying in the soft breeze of a crisp fall morning, Florence stands outside the door of the ornate music room. Notes of beautiful melancholy and bitter hope filter softly through the wooden door, slightly ajar, a broken barrier to the outside world.

Looking through the small crack, Florence gazes upon the face of her friend and confidante, John Paul Jones. Too enthralled in his playing to notice the distraction, he never lets up, heavenly melodies echoing against the marble walls.

John was rather short, thin, with straight tawny hair that framed his strong jaw, softening his face. His stormy gray eyes and high cheekbones give the immediate impression of royalty, of which he was not. A lowly servant of the master of the gorgeous manor, Mr. Allen Bennett, John’s time was divided between his seemingly never-ending list of chores and his music.

An orphan from an early age, John was adopted into the local church and took what little knowledge of the piano that remained from his childhood and put it to good use. Listening to the man playing now, it is apparent that he had kept this skill sharp.

“That is a beautiful song, John,” Florence giggles, a beaming smile on her face at the sight of her friend sitting at the sleek grand piano. “I would appreciate you teaching me to play this well, though I know that my lovely husband would rather die than to see me touch a single key on this beautiful instrument. The bloody bastard.”

“Ah, what lovely words from a lovely woman… Florence, I don’t necessarily disagree with you, but I’m not sure we should be insulting your husband in such an open space.”

“John, my dear friend, I do apologize for my sharp tongue, but I believe it is warranted,” Florence says, taking a seat beside John, smoothing her lace nightgown. John’s fingers still press softly on the piano keys, as he plays a simple tune. “I’ve seen the way he treats you and the servants. As much as I wish to change this for you and the others, I am powerless. This is the only way I may hope to keep my sanity.”

“Very well,” John says, a soft laugh punctuating the end of his sentence. “Though I hope, for your sake, that he doesn’t catch wind of this, or else we are both in trouble!”

“John, pardon me, but I do need to take Florence off your hands for now.”

John’s hands pause, the room falling into silence.

A soft voice belonging to one James Page filters through the open door, interrupting the moment between the two friends. A lean man of average height, with a shock of long midnight curls and eyes a kaleidoscope of colour, James Page is yet another servant indebted to the cruel Mr. Bennett. Whereas John tends to steer clear of the man, and subsequently, punishment, James witnesses Bennett’s anger much too often. Unwilling to submit to Bennett’s furious dictatorship, he often receives the brunt of the man’s mistreatment.

Upon entering the music room, a dark bruise is visible, blossoming on the man’s eye, surely another ‘reward’ for his defiance. James sends the pair a shy smile, and with twin looks of concern, John and Florence take in the state of their friend.

“James! My goodness, your eye looksー”

“It’s nothing, John.”

“Nothing? That certainly looks likeー”

“It is nothing that hasn’t happened before. Please leave it, Florence.”

“A-Alright… What did you need, James?” Florence says, absentmindedly twiddling her fingers, a nervous habit of hers.

“Well, my friend, a certain someone is going to be requesting your presence very soon. I thought it best to warn you ahead of time, so you can prepare.”

With a smile thrown to John over her shoulder, Florence bounds over to her raven-haired friend, hooking an arm through his. James, comfortable with the casual touch of the woman, leads her to her room with a final wave to John.

Navigating through the maze of grand halls of the manor, the wealth of the owner is more noticeable. Shades of red and gold flirt with rich browns, lit by immense crystal chandeliers. Priceless paintings adorn the walls, trapped, much like the lady of the house, in embellished shining frames, just expensive enough to throw shadows on the pain and suffering that happens under the surface.

Not yet rid of the worry that James’s beaten appearance had brought her, Florence unlinks their arms. Ensuring the door to her bedroom is shut, she pulls James closer to her with a hand on his elbow. Her other hand flies to his face, assessing the damage done to it.

“James, I am aware that you do not wish to submit to my husband. That is your choice to make. I will stand by you, always.”

“I appreciate this, my friend.”

“But you must be careful. You don’t know what he is capable of, and neither do I,” says Florence, a grave look of concern gracing her features. “James, I need you here with John and I, not 6 feet underground in an unmarked grave. I know it is not in your nature, but please do try and be careful?”

“I will try,” James’ hand raises, landing in his long dark hair. Raking his nails across his scalp, his lips lift into a crooked smirk. “Though this is an interesting development.”

“Pardon me?”

“The wife of the madman has a heart. And I thought this trope was only found in the books shelved in that gigantic library of yours.” James’ chuckle echoes across the grand hallway. Usually filled with suffocating silence, the halls of the manor serve as another reminder of the terror that fills its occupants. “Now, I understand that you have afternoon tea with Mr. Bennett and his mother, so I will leave you to prepare.”

And with that, the stubborn servant is gone with a click of the closing door.

Minutes later, Florence, finally dressed in a ruffled scarlet dress, a sunhat perched on her head, reaches out to turn the doorknob.

A second too slow.

The door is opened from the other side, and the woman is met with the face of her husband, mouth contorted into a permanent frown.

Allen Bennett was a short, burly man, with close-cropped hair and dark eyes. What he lacked in height he made up for in power and prestige, swindling people out of their money in back alley deals at night, and running the city as mayor by day. This man is not to be crossed, and he knows it. Everybody does.

Gazing at his wife with disinterest, he scoffs, immediately glimpsing the beautiful dress she is wearing. His eyes almost glow in their anger.

“Hm. I thought I had told you that dress looks atrocious on you before. Take it off right this instant. You are not a whore, my love, so you will not dress like one.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Wonderful. I expect you in the foyer in 20 minutes, not a minute later. We must attend a meeting with my mother. I am sure you have been notified of this.”

“Yes, dear.”

With a quick peck on the lips of his wife, Mr. Bennett is gone, and the unfortunate Ms. Bennett feels as though she can finally breathe again. Changing into a sky blue number, she is struck by the thought that this cannot last forever. This treatment of the servants and of Florence herself. The control this vile man has over everyone. The unhappiness and unease he supplies wherever he goes.

This simply cannot last, can it?

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

“Florence. Are you listening, dearie?” A grating, sickly sweet voice breaks the woman from her reverie, a storm in her sea of dreams. Florence takes a sip of her tea and smiles apologetically at the older woman across from her. The woman, satisfied once more, launches into a tedious story about her shopping excursion the day before. Feigning delight at the tale, Florence’s eyes travel around the sun-lit tearoom, with its gleaming surfaces and tall, gold-lined ceilings. Truly a beautiful creation.

“... And, my son, as I was exiting the shop on St. Thomas’s Street, you know the one…” Florence catches the eyes of her husband, glaringly angry as per usual, and at this, she realizes the older woman had paused in her story once more, shooting her an irate scowl.

“Mrs. Bennett, I must apologize for my inattention. My mind was indeed elsewhere, I am terribly sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, girl. Does my son deal with this offensive daydreaming as well? If he does, we must fix this immediately!” Mrs. Bennett titters, cigarette dangling precariously from her lips.

“Mother, it’s quite alright. You mustn't worry about this,” Allen says, leering at his wife as though she was a prize to be won. “My wife knows her place. At least I do hope she does…” The mother and son erupt into giddy laughter at the horrible joke, Florence following uncomfortably, quivering smile creasing her face.

“My goodness,” Mrs. Bennett wipes her eyes of phantom tears with a lily white handkerchief. The woman takes a drag of her cigarette, and huffs a plume of smoke in Florence’s face. “How old are you now, dearie?”

“A month ago, I reached my 23rd birthday. Allen bought a beautifully crafted sapphire bracelet for the occasion.”

“So thoughtful, my son. You are of age, of course. May I ask when you two are planning to conceive?”

“Well, as of this moment, we were notー”

“You may still be… young, but the only use you are to us, my dear, is to create a wonderful child,” Mrs. Bennett, eyes scrunched up in mock kindness, takes the young woman’s hands from across the table and strokes her thumb across the elegant wrist. “I know you would be a very capable mother. As a result of this, I am expecting a lovely grandson or daughter to call my own.”

“O-of course… Thank you for your counsel, Mrs. Bennett.”

“My pleasure, dear. Now, my son, where was I…?” The woman says, launching into her story once more. “Ah, yes…”

Florence, try as she had, could not take her mind off of the words of the matriarch. As a young girl, she had wished to be a writer, a musician, maybe. What she had not planned for was a truly unhappy marriage to an evil man, doomed to the static life of a housewife. She had loved Allen once. In the beginning. He had supported her and her dreams, and she had loved him in return. She had loved his humour, and his chivalry. His treatment of others. This was but a ruse, of course.

A year after their courting had transformed into a union, Allen Bennett had changed. Florence had finally met the man behind the mask of charisma and kindness. She had gotten too close, and now she is stuck, like a bird with a shattered wing, unable to escape.

“Thank you for a lovely time, Mother, as always,” says Allen, placing twin kisses on her heavily rouged cheeks. “Come now, Florence, we must return home immediately.”

“Thank you Ms. Bennett, for your advice and hospitality. We must do this again sometime.”

“Lovely idea, dearie. Hopefully, the next time I will be able to finish my story without you nodding off!” Ms. Bennett drawls, smirk hanging off her lips like the fancy cigarettes she so often smokes.

Formalities over and done with, the couple step out into the fresh afternoon air and into the waiting carriage that had brought them. Once inside, Mr. Bennett shoots out a strong hand, clutching his wife’s arm in a bruising grip. She lets out a surprised gasp, caught off guard by the sudden pain dealt to her by the man.

“Florence, Florence, Florence… What on God’s green earth will we do with you?” says the man, squeezing harder with each repetition of his wife’s name. “You are incapable of paying attention. You can only dream of meeting my mother’s expectations, the way you have acted today.”

“Allen, I am tryingー”

“You are not trying hard enough! You never have! Why I married a whore like you, I have no idea.”

The vice grip on Florence’s arm grows ever stronger, and she feels wretched anger in her heart, climbing up her throat. With a gaze of fire, she retaliates. “Allen, let go of me! I have done nothing wrong, and as a reward I receive your anger and a bruise to boot!”

Gazing into Allen’s eyes, Florence is confused, frightened even, at the horrible amusement dancing in them. Quick as lighting, before she could even register the action, the woman feels a sharp pain grace her cheek, and, with growing horror, she witnesses Allen’s raised hand begin to lower.

“My dear, you must know your place in this house,” whispers Allen in a venomous tone, bringing his wife ever-closer to him. “You will stay quiet and obedient. There is no other option for you, I’m afraid. Alright?”

“Y-yes.”

“Lovely. Tonight, we must attend a play at the theatre you love so much. This is an important appearance, very good for business. Please do try not to ruin it.”

Florence nods minutely, pressing her palm to her burning cheek. A crimson streak spoils the otherwise pristine white of her glove. She had forgotten that Allen wore rings.

“You will not speak to anyone. You will appear happy and in love, the image of a perfect wife. You will dress in your best garments,” Allen rattles off, smugness dripping from his features. He’s proud of this; proud of the power he holds over her. The power he holds over everyone. “That is all I ask of you. A list of tasks that someone as useless as you could complete with ease. Is that clear?”

“Yes, dear.”

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

“Flo—”

“John, I—”

“My Goodness, your cheek! What happened?” The dulcet voice of one John Paul Jones rang through the quiet of the hall. Florence, caught in her attempt to make it to her room unnoticed, deflates and faces her friend.

“John… I’m sorry, but I do not have time to talk right now,” Florence rushes out, face pinched as she checks the time on the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the foyer. Must have costed a million, though it meant nothing to Allen, of course. “I am attending a performance at the theatre with Mr. Bennett, and time is… of the essence, I’m afraid.”

“I understand, I truly do, but Florence… was this Mr. Bennett’s doing? You must tell me what happened.” John gestures to the woman’s cheek, which is tinted red from the force used against her.

Sighing, Florence takes John’s hand and leads him into her room, once again the door is shut and promptly locked. She takes a seat on the immaculately-made bed and gestures for her longtime friend to follow suit. John sits, smoothing out his work-wrinkled shirt, and looks down at Florence expectantly.

Taking the man’s hand, she looks into his gemstone eyes, and recounts the story of what had transpired early that day.

“After all that had happened, I was, in my opinion, justifiably angry, so I took a page, pardon the pun, out of James’ book. It seems that my beloved was not a fan of this particular chapter, and he made that quite clear.”

“And the cut? The blood on your glove?”

“I had forgotten that Allen had the propensity to wear rings,” Florence whispers with an acerbic giggle, eyes pained and downcast now. “I doubt that I will be forgetting this anytime soon.”

John meets the woman’s gaze, and notices the beginning of tears brimming her eyes. He takes Florence’s hand in his, a silent offer of comfort that she would never refuse.

“John, as much as I adore your company,” says Florence with a peal of wet laughter. He knows Florence is avoiding the subject, but he lets her. She’ll talk to him, eventually. “I must get dressed for the performance. Hopefully, after we return, I could witness some of your incredible talent on the piano?”

“Of course, of course!” John exclaims, standing now, as, once again, he gently takes hold of Florence’s hands, now rid of the soiled glove. “But Florence, before I leave… Please be careful. James and I, we couldn’t bear to see further pain come to you. Please, for us, be cautious.”

“I will do my best, John. Thank you.”

John presses a quick kiss to Florence’s cheek in passing, and exits the room, and the woman is left alone again. Slipping on a lovely ensemble painted lilac and silver, the woman lets her thoughts wander.

She’s been alone quite often lately, after all. Her only friends in the house are John and James after all, the other servants too frightened by the man she married. Florence certainly does not blame them. She can’t say that she minds the solitude either, if it gets her away from Allen.

The intricately paneled door opens with a sharp click, and Allen waltzes in, leering at his wife, as if the thoughts drifting through her mind were audible to the man.

“Ah, Florence. I am glad that you've finally learned to dress yourself. Thank God himself for that.”

Florence, cheek still stinging from the blow dealt to it earlier, has only the mind to nod and smile as warmly as she can manage. This is taken as permission by Bennett, who caresses his wife’s uninjured cheek with the tips of his fingers, as if he thought her to be precious. Florence bristles at the touch, a string of rather unladylike words at the ready, but she holds her tongue, remembering her promise to John. She would be cautious, act like the perfect wife. She would be safe.

“Come now, my love,” whispers Allen, into his wife’s ear, beckoning her closer with a finger under her chin. “We have a show to attend.”

Palm outstretched towards his wife, Allen helps Florence into the waiting carriage, uncharacteristically gentle, as he always is in public. Public image means everything, and Allen Bennett is picture-perfect in that respect.

“My love, I remember how you love the theatre. I do hope this play captures your attention.”

“As do I, dear,” Florence says, voice wavering ever-so-slightly under the scrutiny of her husband. “Though I do not know if I have knowledge of this particular play.”

“I believe it’s called ‘The Voysey Inheritance’. It details the scandals of a family thought to be perfect, polite and proper. Interesting, is it not?” At that, Allen has pasted on a cheshire grin.

Sounds familiar, Florence thinks, silently cursing her husband and his monstrous greed. If only she had known, walking into this. Known about the sides, dangerous, that he hadn’t shown until it was too late. Until she was trapped.

Finding their seats, the couple take in the gorgeous marble pillars and the ruby, velvetine seats. The shining wood of the stage is visible from the upper flights, where elite folk like Sir Bennett make themselves at home. The massive carmine curtains remain closed, shielding the growing audience from the scenes that are set to come to life. Florence has always loved the beauty of this theatre, and, though it has been years since she has last stepped foot inside of it, she is charmed anew.

The lights of the theatre dim, signalling the start of the show. Florence grins into the still darkness, excitement for the performance growing. Casting her eyes to the stage below, she puts aside her worries. She completely forgets about the vile man sitting next to her, mind filling with the orchestral opening music of the play. She is home.

The curtains open slowly, and Florence loses her breath. There, on stage, is the most beautiful man Florence has ever laid eyes on. She cannot focus on the words flowing from his thin lips, for she is distracted by the halo of golden curls surrounding the man. His romanesque nose is prominent and his eyes, stormy skies in an ocean of blue, are captivating. His curls, spun silk, bounce across his broad shoulders, as he commands the stage. The actor’s luxurious suit glints navy in the blinding lights on him, accentuating his muscled body. He is not phased in the slightest by the attention firmly placed on him. Completely in his element.

He enchants her, as though he was a wizard, and she, the poor soul under his spell. A snake charmer that she’s read about in books found in the gigantesque manor library, and her, the sin-riddled reptile under his control. He is forbidden fruit, and she wants a taste.

The performer is ethereal, and Florence cannot take her eyes off of him. She must find out who he is, somehow.

------

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#heart of gold #robert plant #led zeppelin #led zeppelin fanfic #robert plant fanfiction #robert plant fanfic #robert plant x oc #classic rock fanfic

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