#I don’t care if this comes off as vain to some. I’ve spent my entire life believing im not good enough for anything. I’m tired of that.

[k8epot8e]

Train in Vain: Chapter 8 Into the Fire

Summary:

Infiltrating the Donquixote family meeting was one thing but now that you got what you came for, how are you going to escape?

Notes:

Life is rough, friends! Sorry for the delay, but we're back on the tracks here. Here is Chapter 8, and I anticipate publishing Chapter 9 in the next couple of days. After that, I'm planning on returning to one a week as I've got big plans for Y/N and the boys to come.

TWs: Drug mentions, drug dealing mentions, cursing, alcohol mentions, drinking, sexual innuendo, anxiety, intimidation.

Trebol gestured you towards one of the open chairs on the left side of the room. All eyes were on you as you maneuvered into your seat, attempting to retain in your posture whatever confidence you could still scrape together. Trebol drooped his wide body into the last available chair just to your right. You sat like a princess with your legs pressed tightly together, discouraging any accidental contact that you could have with the man whose long legs were already slipping out from his chair in either direction.

“Why, she’s so demure. Like a little doormouse.” The woman with the gaudy necklace said, smiling over her shoulder devilishly.

“Not all of us can be as flamboyant as you, Giolla,” the man with the crew cut answered.

“You really should convince the precinct to let you wear better clothes, Vergo, the aesthetic of the entire police force leaves a lot to be desired.” Giolla huffed.

“I don’t think the pigs care about aesthetics,” the bicep-man laughed.

“Well, they ought to!” Giolla chuckled.

“Behehe” Trebol joined in.

“Alright everyone, cool it,” Joker said and the room snapped immediately into silence. “You all know there is no judgment on appearances in this family. I am a kind man. Everyone gets a fair shot as long as they’re loyal and get results.”

He paused. You could unfortunately sense that he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since you’d entered the room. The chilling grin he flashed in your direction seemed to be a permanent facial feature.

“You’re Monet.” He said, more a statement than a question. Your head reeled. The blood rushing through your veins screamed DANGER to every neuron it could find but none would listen. Your animal instinct was trying its best to save your sorry ass but your brain won the battle, knowing it was far too late.

You nodded at the man behind the desk, trying to not feel faint as you looked at him directly. The intensity of his attention was making you woozy. You started to regret having Sanji’s cosmo earlier.

“Go along to the party. We’re starting business.” Joker said to the beautiful woman in his lap. She giggled and floated out of the room.

“Because of the” Joker paused, “delicate nature of our collective situation. Monet has spent her time with us undercover. Like you, Vergo.”

The man with the crew cut nodded.

“We are happy that both of you could join us tonight. Welcome.” Joker extended his long hands out in an inviting gesture.

You managed to give a soft smile in return despite the distracting rhythm of your pulse throbbing in your ears.

Joker continued, “I’ve asked you all here tonight as a little status report. Also, to highlight some new product you’ll be supplying in the near future. After we conduct business, we’ll all join the party in the parlor. Take tonight as a show of faith for all of your hard work.”

“Let’s start with introductions. Monet, since you were the last to arrive, I’ll direct these to you. You already know Trebol. He is my, shall we say, Chief of Staff.”

You looked to Trebol who matched your gaze with a sweaty grin.

“In front of him is Bellamy, he is my distributor for West Brooklyn.”

Bellamy, the bicep-man, shot you a wink over his left shoulder.

“Next to him is Vergo, my distributor for East Brooklyn.”

Vergo nodded at you.

“And last but not least is Giolla who is my distributor for North Brooklyn.”

“Charmed,” Giolla said to you with a cheshire grin.

“Nice to finally meet you all,” you said returning your gaze to Joker. You switched tactics from biting the side of your tongue to stabbing your palm with one of your fingernails. The sharpness of your nail piercing the warm flesh of your palm gave you enough focus to speak and to keep your breathing regular.

“And I, of course, am Joker. Here, there is no need for secrets. Tonight, you can call me Doflamingo.” The man behind the desk said, a long tongue snaking out of his mouth to lap at his upper lip.

You tried your best not to react when you saw his tongue but your eyes must’ve widened in surprise as you watched his smirk grow sharper in amusement.

“So, now that we’re all acquainted, has anyone run into any issues on their turf?” Doflamingo asked, leaning his head to rest against the chair’s high back.

Bellamy spoke up first.

“I found out a couple of weeks ago that some small-timers were operating out of a club over in Fort Hamilton. They were moving similar product to ours so I shut it down. Haven’t heard anything since.” Bellamy said confidently.

“Everything is going swimmingly in North Brooklyn. The Williamsburg art shows are as hot as the product I’m moving through them!” Giolla laughed.

“Captain Smoker has been a pain in my ass down at the station but my guys on the force have been moving product smoothly, no hiccups,” Vergo said.

Everyone turned to look at you.

“South is going fine. Coney Island has been slower because of the time of year but that’s normal.” You said. You weren’t sure where this lie came from or how you said it so nonchalantly but it was something you thought, you hoped, made enough sense.

Doflamingo paused. “Good. Seems like no one is having any real issues. Now, let me show you our new product.”

The man opened up a drawer on the right-hand side of the desk. His long fingers gently placed what looked like a piece of hard candy down in front of him. The candy was white and red swirled, like the pinwheel colors of a mint. It was wrapped in clear plastic and twisted into bowties on either side.

“This is the Doc’s new creation. It’s more addictive than our other products and more potent. Despite this, I got him to ease the come-down to make it better for club usage. I also got him to make it cuter looking to sell better to young people.” Doflamingo explained. He went on at length about the drug, its chemical composition, and its effects. You tried your best to concentrate, but your anxiety was making it difficult.

“This will be included in the product package you each pick up on your designated days next week. Market it to young people in your regions, primarily young women who go clubbing. Once it’s used in certain areas by your better customers, word will spread and increase the market.”

“Young Master, it’s adorable!” Giolla giggled.

“It’s some of Doc’s finer work, I will say, fufufu” Doflamingo laughed. “Now that we’ve chatted, let’s join the party, shall we?”

Everyone waited for him to rise from their chairs. He hoisted his enormous body from his throne and pocketed the drug into his pink silk suit pants as he sauntered out of the room.

The five of you remaining in the office began to follow him out into the parlor.

You couldn’t believe you’d survived. You rose to your feet, feeling somewhat lightheaded from your heightened pulse. As overjoyed as you were that you’d made it this far, you quickly started to realize that you didn’t know how you were going to leave.

You almost flinched when you felt a hand rest on your left arm and an arm wrap around your shoulders. Giolla had slid you into an embrace on her right side.

“It’s not ALL serious work, dear. Let’s have some fun.” Giolla giggled as she led you through the doorway.

--

You, Giolla, Vergo, and Bellamy had entered the parlor to find Doflamingo across the room, already chatting with various guests at a blackjack table. Vergo was walking away from our group when Bellamy called him out.

“You’re not going home yet, are you Vergo?” Bellamy asked judgementally.

Vergo paused. “I’m going to the buffet table and then I’m leaving. Some of us have other jobs in addition to our work for the family, Bellamy. Monet understands.”

He turned and made a beeline for the buffet.

“Old man.” Bellamy scoffed and headed towards the bar.

Giolla pivoted you in the direction of the bar after him and Trebol followed.

A new sense of panic began to take hold of you as you were steered towards the bar. You may have gotten the recording you needed but how were you supposed to escape? Also, Smoker had said not to get too talkative but now you were expected to drink and chat with people at the party. You swallowed hard.

Bellamy leaned one of his long arms on the edge of the bar. “Jack and coke for me, what do you want Giolla?” He asked.

“A sidecar, dear.” Giolla laughed. “She’ll have one too.”

You turned to see that Trebol had disappeared. You couldn’t see him from across the room and wondered where he had gone. While you were curious, you were happy that there were fewer people around you. You had to make your way to the other end of the room so you could slip out, unnoticed. One down, two to go.

The bartender handed the three of you your drinks. You took one of the sidecars and Giolla held hers up in a toast.

“To the Young Master!” She said.

“Hear, hear!” Bellamy said, raising his glass.

You raised your coupe glass and clinked with the two people next to you. You took a swig from the sidecar, it was refreshing to have something to drink after all this time.

“Giolla! Darling!” You heard from behind you. You turned to see that an older man with a mustache was calling out to Giolla with his arms aloft.

“You bad man!” Giolla squealed and immediately ran to join her well-dressed acquaintance leaving you and Bellamy standing together at the bar. Glad to be rid of her, you breathed a little more deeply.

Bellamy was leaning on the bar, looking lasciviously around the room. He eyed the ass of a woman in a red cocktail dress peering over a roulette table. Getting rid of him was going to be too easy.

“You like what you see?” You asked him slyly.

“Hmm?” Bellamy grunted, obviously not listening.

“I said, do you want to fuck her?” You asked nonchalantly.

This statement made the man snap out of his lusty gaze. He looked down at you in surprise before busting into a laugh.

“Yeah, I do. Hah. I like you, Monet. You don’t talk too much, but when you do it’s cause you’ve got something to say.” He laughed.

You weren’t sure if that was a compliment but you’d take it.

“You should go talk to her.” You goaded him, eager to get him gone.

“You think so?” He asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah. You’re with Doflamingo and you’ve got great arms. I’m sure she’ll take a liking to you.” You said, taking another sip of your sidecar.

“You’ve got a point. Well, thanks for the encouragement. Hope you get some, yourself.” He said, kicking off the bar and winking at you as he stalked away.

Cheers erupted in your brain. You’d played this so well. Maybe you should be a professional sting-person, you thought to yourself. You kicked off the bar and started walking along the side of the room towards the exit. You knocked back the rest of the sidecar as you moseyed around the people milling about. Home free, you thought just as you’d reached the other side of the room.

While crossing in front of the fireplace a long arm bolted in front of you to rest on the mantle, blocking your path. You stopped abruptly as you turned to your right to see the enormous figure of Doflamingo leaning over you. His glasses stared into your eyes.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

#one piece x reader #eustass kid x killer x reader #eustass kid x reader #killer x reader #one piece fanfic

[wren-kitchens]

feelings (p2)

p1 took me 4 days, p2 took me 1

this is the first explicitly romantic fic i’ve done of desert duo and i’m pretty proud of it lol

grian has spent the last three days trying to understand what his feelings are towards scar, to no avail. he deeply cares about him, and the thought of anything happening to him makes his stomach turn, but he’s not sure what it means.

and sure, he knows that, written down, it looks as if he’s liked scar for ages— maybe even since the start of 3rd life— but he just isn’t sure. he hasn’t talked to anyone about it, not even scar. he doesn’t know how to, really.

it’s starting to get distracting now, though. every message in chat, every death alert catches his attention, and every time it isn’t scar, his heart sinks slightly. grian is pretty sure that’s not a normal thing. it certainly didn’t happen before.

he’s building the bridge around his base, when his communicator buzzes. grian almost drops it in his haste to read the message.

<goodtimewithscar> hey does anyone have any quartz, everything’s sold out

grian stares at the message, waiting for a reply from someone else. there isn’t one.

he hurries into his base, dumps all of his building materials into a chest, and flies up to the nether portal.

<grian> I can get some, give me a minute

he lands just on the edge, nearly falling back off. the communicator in his pocket buzzes just as he’s transported to the nether.

<goodtimewithscar> thank you! that’s very kind

grian’s face heats up, but he blames it on the nether’s temperature. it’s fine, it’s just.. hot in here.

he flies through the nether hub and out, travelling further to make sure he can actually find some quartz.

“honestly, the things i do.” grian mutters, stopping off at a nether wastes and starting to mine.

<grian> how much do you need?

<goodtimewithscar> just a couple stacks

<goodtimewithscar> it’s for one building so I don’t need too much

“alright, shouldn’t be too difficult.” he says to himself, moving onto a second vain of quartz. really, all the shops were sold out?

he’s never liked the  nether— it’s so dry and stagnant compared to the jungle, and the spores get stuck in his hair. he’s not entirely sure why he wanted to get quartz for scar himself so badly, but he’s here now and he’s not one to give up.

it takes about a quarter of an hour to gather up half an inventory full of quartz (he knows scar said he didn’t need much, but in his experience, you always need more than you think).

he flies so fast to scar’s base, he almost slams into one of his buildings.

“oh! oh, grian, you scared me.”

grian looks down to see scar, back in his wheelchair since their time in the afterlife. he’d forgotten how pretty he looked with long hair.

grian grins and glides down, landing in front of scar. it’s always annoyed him how little of a hight difference they have when scar is in his wheelchair. logically, he should be at least a bit taller than scar.

“I come baring gifts of quartz.” grian hands him the bag (well, it’s sack really) of quartz, and scar gasps when he sees how much of it there is.

“oh my goodness, you got so much!” he exclaims. “thank you!” he smiles at grian, and his heart flutters in his chest.

goddamn it.

“um- well, i’d better be off.” grian stammers, walking backwards. “lots of building to do, lots of resources to gather! bye!” he opens his wings and flies off, slightly lopsidedly.

of course, of course he likes him. how did he ever think he didn’t? and, if he’s thinking logically, how could he not? the way scar smiles, his kindness to him, his gentleness.

oh, he has got to talk to someone about this.

—-

“mumbo!” he yells, effectively scaring the skin off of his friend. “mumbo, I need to talk to you!”

“jesus, grian.” mumbo pops up from behind the vault wall, covered in redstone dust. “do you want to talk to me or give me a heart attack?”

“I gotta talk to you about something, but you can’t tell anyone else.” grian says, flying over the wall. “god, I forgot how tall you are.”  

“you have to talk to me about something..?” mumbo prompts.

“um, yes.” he says. suddenly he isn’t too sure about telling him, but he’s the only person he really trusts enough, and he needs to talk about it to someone. “well, I- and you can’t laugh.” he preempts. “but I think.. I think I like scar.”

mumbo blinks. “wait, I thought you two were together?”

“you- what?!” grian’s face flushes so fast, he might actually pass out.

“are you not?” mumbo is obviously suppressing a laugh. “oh, sorry, I didn’t-“ he presses his hand against his mouth. “no, no i’m not laughing. i’m not laughing.”

“you thought-“ grian can’t even be mad at him— he’s too flustered. “how did- when would we-“ he doesn’t finish any of those thoughts. mumbo gets the gist anyway.

“well, I thought, you know, in double life.” mumbo says, vaguely. “you got soulmates, right? and you and scar were soulmates.”

“that- it doesn’t mean we’re-“ grian’s voice has started to squeak. he clears his throat. “okay, we’re not together, but in the afterlife period, scar told me he- he loves me, and i wasn’t sure how I felt, but now I think-“ he cuts himself off, then takes a breath. “I think I feel the same way?”

“so, you want to be with him?” mumbo asks, brushing some of the redstone dust  out of his hair.

“no- well, yes, but- agh.” grian groans. “I don’t know.” he whines. “it’s just scary, you know? I know that I- um, I know how I feel about him, but it’s just so.. big.”

mumbo nods. “well, I mean you don’t have to date him if you’re not ready. that’s not a requirement for love.” he says, so simply,  grian isn’t entirely sure how he didn’t think of it before.

“oh.” he realises. “you’re right.”

“you should know by now that i’m always right.” mumbo says.

“mhm, and how did your mayoral campaign go?” grian grins.

“you didn’t vote for me either!” mumbo protests, and grian laughs. he feels a weight lift off his chest at it.

“okay, I think i’m gonna tell him.” grian says, though he’s not entirely sure how; he’s so bad at saying it out loud.

“you’d better tell me as soon as you do.” mumbo insists as grian starts to fly off. “also I want some credit!” he calls after him.

on the way to scar’s base (he is really hoping he’s there) grian decides on a plan of how to tell him. he doesn’t think there’s too much room for misinterpretation.

by the time he gets there, his stomach is full of nervous butterflies. it’s a good plan, he tells himself, there’s no way even scar can misunderstand.

“oh, hello grian!” scar’s cheerful voice says from behind him, and grian turns to see him smiling at him. “what brings you here again?”

he can do this.

“w-well, i’ve been thinking about what you said to me, back in the afterlife.” he starts, cursing his stammer. “and.. I think I have an answer.”

a soft pink creeps across scar’s face. it’s annoyingly attractive, and he isn’t sure if it’s going to make the next part harder or easier.

“yeah?” scar asks, failing to hide the hopeful look in his eyes. grian really wishes it wasn’t as endearing as it is.

“um, i’m- i’m not good at, uh, saying it out loud, so..” he mentally braces himself and leans in slightly, for once thankful for the lack of height difference between them. he doesn’t close the gap though — he wants scar to be able to choose.

and when scar’s lips meet his own, his heart might just burst out of his chest.

his eyes flutter shut on instinct, and he moves a hand up to cup scar’s face. he can feel scar smiling against his lips, and after a moment they both break the kiss with their quiet laughter.

scar wraps his arms around grian and pulls him into his lap, which startles an embarrassingly loud squawk out of him. scar laughs at it. now they’re both sat, scar is once again much taller, so he kisses the top of grian’s head, causing his face to go even redder than before.

“aw, don’t hide.” scar grins as grian ducks his head down. “it’s sweet.”

“I take it all back.” grian says, pretty certain he’s going to die of a heart attack within the next few minutes. “I hate you now.”

“yeah, yeah.” scar tilts grian’s head up and kisses his nose. “I love you too.”

#this is the one ending I actually like lmao #i very nearly forgot the cut #double life ficlet #hermitcraft ficlet #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #scarian #desert duo #dessert duo #reblogs are appreciated! likes don’t do anything #<— i don’t say that often but like i’m super proud of this so

[lubdubsworld]

Blackberry Winters.

PART 1 🌸 PART 2

Namjoon Werewolf Au!! 

Pack Head Alpha Namjoon and mate OC!

Arranged marriage sort of?

Pack dynamics / strangers to lovers. 

Part 3

“You did not think to tell him no? To demand that you had every right to stay there?” Her mother in law looked disappointed ,  eyes trained on her as Jiah carefully pulled the blouse of the tunic down over her tummy, frowning when she realized that it didn’t do a thing for her figure.

She felt self conscious, the grey cotton of the tunic making her feel drab and lifeless. Why did she always choose clothes in colors like this? Why did none of them fit her right? Why did she never make an effort to look at least a little good. Her hair was limp, a mousy brown and while it was thick, it had no luster… Why didn’t she use one of the hundred powdered mixtures the village healer liked to give the younger women?

“Jiah, are you listening to me?” Namjoon’s mother said sharply and Jiah jumped a bit, guilty.

“I didn’t want to be a bother..”  She said nervously, not sure how to handle her mother in law. On the one hand she seemed to be understanding of her many hang ups, but she also looked impatient and upset, anytime Jiah failed to stand up for herself.

Lady Kim drew herself up to her impressive height and Jiah cowered. She’d hung around enough pack bonfires to recognize that stance and that gaze. The woman was about to give her a piece of her mind.

Sure enough, her voice thundered when she addressed her.

“If you keep viewing yourself as a bother, I’m not sure how others will begin seeing you as anything else. You’re the head alpha’s mate. Your place is by his side, helping him with the crown on his head. It’s not a choice. Your duties are not mine and I am tired of doing them for you.” She snapped.

It stung. Guilt churned and Jiah could feel the beginnings of one of her episodes. The ones that always left her shaking and breathless. Much to her surprise, Lady Kim’s gaze softened at that and the next second she was being drawn into a warm embrace.

“Good lord child, why are you so terrified? Has my family not been kind enough to take away this stark terror out of your veins?” She sighed deeply. “You must not let your fears dictate your life. I want you to live your life, pleasing the person you’re bound to .”

Jiah felt her shoulders sag. Please the person she was bound to.  Of course. Namjoon. It all came down to the alpha wolf. And how was she supposed to please him, if he couldn’t bear to be in the same room as her?

“Yourself.” Lady Kim’s voice, laced with amusement made her jump.

Jiah frowned, pulling back to look at the older woman in confusion.

“You’re bound only to yourself , Jiah. You need to please yourself. To do and be the person you want to be. And then everything else will fall into place.”

Jiah watched as the woman went back to the door, calling for and directing a few more workers as they finished setting up the outer courtyard of her living quarters. Still a little chilled, she grabbed a thick coat from the small cupboard by the door, draping it over herself and tying it together with the sash. She moved quickly to the door, watching her mother in law talk to the workers, looking them straight in the eye , firm and clear in her instructions.

It was fascinating.

Lady Kim’s stance fairly vibrated with power and her voice brooked no disobedience. People looked at her and listened. They saw someone who knew what she was talking about and many a time, Jiah had felt it herself, the comfort of someone reliable. Someone who wished no ill on anyone.

Namjoon’s mother had lost her husband at a young age. Namjoon had scarcely been a babe of two when it had happened and the entire pack had expected the young wolf to lose his birthright as the heir. It was unheard of for a mate to take over the head alpha’s duties but Lady Kim had risen to the occasion with an elegance that had stunned everyone. The woman had met pack leaders and settled disputes, had negotiated boundary conflicts and made elaborate plans for new buildings , all while carrying around a babe that was still fed at her breast.

What was more, she had defended her position against the men who had wanted to usurp it. Mnhyuk and Jaejoon were two of her husband’s cousins, eager to sink their fangs into the woman to mate her, just to be able to get their hands on the pack. They were terrible men , even worse wolves. Their ideas on how the pack ought to be run dripping with archaic ideals and oppression of women.

But Lady Kim had humiliated them, told the whole pack in no uncertain terms that the next pack alpha would be Kim Namjoon. Her son would be raised to rule the pack with kindness and understanding and she would make sure of it.

The tales were told with hushed tones of disbelief and admiration and Jiah had listened to them with hunger and aching. Had felt such a huge surge of affection for the matron , had wanted to hug her and tell her she had done a great job.

And standing here as her daughter in law, she realized that she would be a fool not to listen to her. Not to learn from her. Especially when it was obvious that in the entire pack, the only one who didn’t seem to hold Kim Namjoon on a pedestal, was ironically his own mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ They’re going to challenge you again. I can feel it.” Taehyung said gruffly, dropping the bundle of scrolls on the table and Namjoon flinched, head throbbing.

“That bad?” He asked hesitantly and Taehyung nodded.

“They want you to re-negotiate that treaty about courtesans owning property. Think it would make them quit the profession… if you let them own stuff” Seokjin said quietly and Namjoon bristled.

“They are no different from any of us. They work for their pay too. Why shouldn’t they be allowed to do what they wish with money that they’ve earned?” He demanded angrily.

“You’re a good man Namjoon. A fair one. And you’re striving to build a pack that treats all it members as equals . Obviously people who thrive on abusing their power aren’t going to like that. Especially Minhyuk and Jaejoon’s pups. Those two are terrible.”

“You should accept their challenge and just rip their throats out someday.” Taehyung said firmly AND Namjoon gave him a glare.

“I’m not going to shed blood without cause, Taehyung. Don’t suggest that. Even in passing.” He said firmly and the younger beta bowed politely in apology.

“Where is Jiah?” Seokjin asked casually.

Namjoon glanced at him, brows raised.

“Since when are you so familiar with my mate, hyung?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“She used to come sit with me, when I watched over the herds on the outer pastures. Sweet little thing really. Very funny too.”

That made Namjoon pause.

“Funny?” He asked, completely confused.

“Witty. She would make these clever little riddles and jokes that would always leave me in stitches. We made a game of it. I would give her one of my funny jokes and she would give me a riddle. Is she feeling better now?”

Namjoon who was still kind of struck dumb by the idea of his cowering, reticent mate doing something as…. Normal and friendly as laughing and being witty….. could only stare at Seokjin in confusion.

“I…. Yes. She’s well. We’re expecting a pup.” He said softly.

Both Taehyung and Seokjin went still.

“What?!!! Why didn’t you say that first?!!” Taehyung exclaimed, offended.

“It’s not that important…” Namjoon waved it off, reaching for the scrolls , “ what about the treaties, then? You did tell Jungkook we aren’t changing anything right?”  

Seokjin scoffed.

“ Only you would say that these treaties are more important than your own pup.” He snapped.

Namjoon sighed a bit at that.

“I don’t mean that. I’m just saying, what she needs now is to rest and take care of herself and the baby. I’m not what she needs . I’ve arranged for her to stay in some private quarters with the other women.”

Seokjin sighed deeply. After years of being one of Namjoon’s trusted friends, he could feel his heart ache for the younger and all that he hid from the people around him. He reached out and gently placed a palm on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“ Namjoon, you don’t have to do all of this by yourself. Tae and I , we can take over duties a couple of days a week… You can relax… Maybe spend some time with your new wife….”

“She hates me.” Namjoon said softly. “ I spent a whole month trying to talk to her, all she did was tremble and shake. Even when we…” Namjoon exhaled sharply, “ Even in bed , she made me feel like I was some kind of…. Predator.”

Taehyung bit his lips, looking worried.

“You’re not… You’re not going to break the bond are you?” He asked nervously.

Namjoon sighed.

“I’m not. I may have considered it, before . But now… She’s with pup. I can’t do that to her. I don’t want to either.”

“Why did you pick her?”

Namjoon stayed quiet.

“Because you wanted a wife who wouldn’t ask or demand or complain.” Taehyung said distastefully.

“That’s not… You make it sound so terrible. I’m supposed to be taking over pack duties, supposed to renegotiate every single treaty we’ve drawn in the past twenty years, not to mention get the entire pack ready for the winter…. Of course I wanted a wife who would adjust. Have you seen the omegas in our clan? The ones I could court ? They want to leave on trips… They want to visit the neighbouring packs…. They want me to arrange festivities and feasts for every damn thing…. You think I can marry someone like that??” Namjoon snapped angrily. “none of them understand a damn thing about helping me out. They’re shallow and vain. Jiah… I chose her because she didn’t seem like one of them. She seemed like she could understand what it means to be my wife. But I was wrong. I thought she understood my responsibilities and was giving me my space…. Turns out she just thinks I’m some kind of monster she needs to run and hide from.”

Seokjin reached out, patting his back soothingly.

“Namjoon I understand… It’s been hard on you, and you’ve been doing all of it by yourself. Its bound to take a toll. And that’s why I think you should take a few days off, a week. Give us all the instructions. We’ll carry it all out. You can relax.”

“That’s exactly what my uncles want. For me to slack off. They’ll summon the council and want to challenge me again. I can’t afford it. “ Namjoon shook his head.” Not until the babe is born and my position as pack alpha is solidified. I can’t let them use this against me.”

Seokjin and Taehyung exchanged looks.

“Joon-ah….”

Namjoon gave both of them a tired smile.

“I’ll be fine hyung. It’s going to be okay.”  He said reassuringly. “ The council’s meeting tomorrow right? I’ll try to go over these tonight.”

“Its already past sundown.” Taehyung said worriedly.

“Then I better ask the maids to keep enough oil for the lamp to last.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing here?” Namjoon blinked, staring at her like she was out of her mind and Jiah flinched. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. But the sight of him made something curl in the pit of her stomach. He looked exhausted. Like he had been up all night. She wondered if perhaps she ought to retreat. Go back to the private quarters he’d arranged for her.

No. No , you will not chicken out of this.

“ You have a council meeting, this evening. Could I come with you?.” She said softly, watching his face carefully. She tried to read his emotions, tried to look for traces of irritation or anger but all she found was a sort of hopeless resignment. Like he had stopped trying to fight whatever was bringing him down.

“Come with me….?? ” Namjoon stared at her like he wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about.

She inhaled sharply.

“Your mother told me I could go. As your mate, I’m allowed to sit in on council meetings. She told me it’s a new provision. That you were the one who had it written in. So perhaps, you should… let me come with you.”

“My mother-“ He paused, sighing. “ You don’t have to do everything my mother asks you to.”

She blinked, the words throwing her off. The truth was, she had been the one, tailing the older woman all day, trying to see what she did and how she did it. Lady Kim had merely offered to help her do her duties. She had mentioned in passing, that for centuries , mates hadn’t been granted many rights of their own. Namjoon had spent the past couple of years making a lot of amendments to pack laws and the council hadn’t taken to kindly to all of them.

“ Of course. I just thought that, as I am your mate , perhaps I should accompany you. ” It was a miracle, the way her voice came out, steady . Not at all betraying the nervousness coursing through her veins.

“Jiah…. I’m not sure.” His voice dripped with hesitation and she flinched. Oh, well, no one could blame her for not trying.

“If you don’t want me there, that’s fine.” She said quickly.” I’ll go…”

She turned around, feeling her face burn red as she quickly descended the stairs to the courtyard.

“Jiah wait!!” His voice made her still.

She turned around swiftly.

“I didn’t mean to imply that I did not want you there. I just….Council meetings aren’t short. They tend to go on for hours. Will you be alright?” He asked gently, gaze dropping surreptitiously to her middle.  

It took her a minute to understand what he was even talking about.

“I… Oh.” She quickly pressed her palms to her stomach, confused. “ I mean… I may have to be excused a couple of times to relieve myself. I’ve been doing that way more often than usual.” She laughed.

Namjoon’s lips quirked in a hint of a smile and she flushed. Surely, her stern mate didn’t want to hear about her body functions? What was she even doing…

“But, yes. I wouldn’t mind sitting with you. Truly.” She said quickly.

Namjoon nodded.

“Well, then. You can come with me. It’s an hour before sundown… I’ll come fetch you myself.”

“Yes , alpha.” She said brightly, curtsying lightly and immediately feeling like a fool.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“They’re called red feathers …” The healer, a middle aged woman called Selma,  opened a small earthenware jar to show her the contents. Jiah peered into the jar, catching sight of a bundle of dried flowers and roots.

“These can help me…?” She asked dubiously and Selma gave a quiet chuckle.

“They help you sleep better and also help you relax. They’re good for you. You won’t feel this anxious if you take them regularly.” She said calmly.

“Oh… alright.” Jiah nodded, glancing carefully at her mother in law who was standing elsewhere, looking through an assortment of salves and tinctures. “ Can I…. is this safe for Namjoon?”

Lady Kim stilled, turning around to glance at her sharply and Jiah stiffened. God, her impulsive mouth. She wasn’t even sure why she said it. Just the whole , helps sleep better , had immediately reminded her of how tired Namjoon had looked.

“I’ve already tried to get him to drink some of it. He refuses.” Lady Kim said tiredly. “ He feels that it may affect his mental faculties”

“Auntie Selma?” A high, soft voice rang through the hut and Jiah glanced up. She went still, catching sight of Jisoo, dressed in red velvet and all of her ornate jewelry.

“Ah… Jisoo…you’re back.” Selma said cheerfully. “ How can I help you child?”

Jisoo stared at her, eyes steady and unreadable.

“I need some wild carrot seeds and ginger roots.” She said softly and Lady Kim scoffed.

“I hope the man you’re taking into your bed is not who I think it is , Jisoo.” She growled. The younger woman merely bowed.

“I’m but a courtesan, my lady. I go where I am asked to.” She said softly.

Lady Kim sighed.

“Then perhaps you should go back home. Now.” She said sharply and jisoo flushed and ugly red.

“Your son wants me to visit him for tea , this evening. I was hoping to meet my lovely lady there…but I hear you no longer stay in his hut.” Jisoo turned to her, tone dripping with acid and Jiah swallowed nervously.

“I… I’m…” She couldn’t quite talk, much less think of something to say.

“Because she is with child.” Lady Kim said sharply, a hint of triumph in her tone. “ Namjoon’s child.”

Jisoo had gone paper white, her face pale and bloodless.

“What?” She whispered.

“It’s true. She carries my son’s heir. You know what that means, Jisoo. It means they are bound, for life. I like you. I respect your courage and admire your talents. You are beautiful and you deserve a mate of your own. Do not pursue my son.” Lady Kim said firmly.

Jisoo didn’t respond for a few seconds.  

And then she bowed again .

“Like I said, my lady. I only go where I am called.” She said quietly.

She turned on her heels, stalking away and Jiah could only stare after her, heart pounding a bit at what had just happened. She wasn’t sure why she felt so much disquiet. She’d never had high hopes of fidelity from Namjoon. The entire village knew that Jisoo had been his paramour. But now that she had seen how dismissive the younger girl was of her, she felt the unaccountable urge to fight back. To stake her claim.

“You look pretty upset. Don’t let her bother you. Namjoon will not break his vows.” Lady Kim said quietly and Jiah gave her a soft smile, although her heart still raced. She remembered how pretty the girl had looked in all her brocades and velvets. She stared down at her own murky yellow dress. She couldn’t go to the council meeting, dressed worse than a courtesan. Couldn’t embarrass Namjoon like that.

“ My Lady….” She turned to her mother in law. The older woman hummed, returning to examining the shelves.

“What is it, child?”

“Can we stop at the seamstress’ hut on our way back?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whatever Namjoon had been expecting, as he knocked on his wife’s private quarters, it hadn’t been this.

He stared , or to be more accurate, gaped at his wife, completely thrown by her appearance.

She looked…. Cheerful.

That was the only word he could think of, taking in the warm yellow and green fabric of her gown, all with an abundance of ribbons and lace. She had also clearly made some effort to tame her hair.

Not a very successfully attempt, considering the dozen strands sticking out of her bun and curling over her bare neck and shoulders …..but an attempt nonetheless.

Which reminded him.

Why was her neck bare?

“I…. have you forgotten… part of your dress…?” He asked awkwardly, gaze trained on the pale, blemish less expanse of skin in front of him. Too much of it was on display he felt.

“Oh?” Jiah twirled about for a second, glancing at herself. “ Not at all, my alpha. This is how it is.”

Namjoon blinked.

“Right… the night is getting colder. Perhaps a shawl?” He suggested tactfully.

Jiah frowned, sticking a hand out of the door as though to the gauge the night air.

“Really? Feels quite warm to me.” She said thoughtfully.  

“It may be cold for the baby.” He said quickly and that made her pause. She glanced back down at her tummy and he wondered what she expected to see, every time she did that.

“Perhaps you’re right alpha….let me be back.” She floated back into the hut and he sighed in relief when she reappeared with a white fleece shawl over her shoulders.

“Shall we go ?” She asked quietly and he hesitated before slowly offering her his arm. She gripped it lightly, and they began the short walk to the main village square where the council usually convened.

“You… You’re better adjusted to this place now?” He asked carefully, trying to find the girl he had taken to his bed. The terrified, nervous , trembling young girl.

Jiah didn’t respond at once.

“I… I’ve been drinking some of Selma’s potions. They help.” She said quietly and he frowned.

“Potions? Potions for what?”

“They help with my nerves. I get scared easily…imagine things ….” She trailed off nervously.” I’m very anxious by nature and it gets worse in a new place. With new people.”

Namjoon considered that carefully. That made sense. Perhaps, that was why she had been so odd.

“The potions help?” He asked carefully and she nodded.

“Yes…that and your mother.”

“My mother?”

“She’s very kind to me.”

Namjoon laughed a bit at that. In all the years he has had people talking to him about his mother, the word ‘kind ‘ had never come up.

“ I’m being honest….she has helped me adapt to this place. To see how things are run. I… I don’t want to be a bother. I want to pull my weight. In the pack. To help in any way I can…”

Namjoon felt a sudden unaccountable fondness bloom in his chest at the innocent words.

“ That’s very virtuous of you.” He said seriously and she flushed.

They didn’t say anything else, continuing the rest of the path in companionable silence Namjoon spotted the seven council members gathered around a blazing fire and lightly stepped closer to her.

“You can stay close to me. You don’t have to answer them.  If they try to draw you into any controversial topic, just ignore them. I’ll handle it.” He said quickly.

Jiah gave him a wide eyed, nervous look but nodded quickly, fingers moving from his forearm to his palm , linking with his own and gripping tight.

“I’m here. You’re not alone.” She said quickly and it was ridiculous, how the words actually helped him relax just a little.

Taking a deep breath, he led her on to the meeting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : i thinks its about time i accepted that this is a full blown fic and not just a drabble. fuck my life. 

Note : Red feathers are actually herbal medicines used as anti depressants. So this is just werewolf au equivalent of therapy. 

#namjoon au #namjoon werewolf au #bts werewolf au #alpha namjoon #namjoon smut #bts smut #bts au #bts fics #bts fanfics

[bxllafanficc]

Lady of mischief- Part five

Pairing: Loki x Greek!goddess f!reader

Summary: Asgard is having a change of power so there are several events Loki has to get right before he can announce victory against his brother as the next king. But one lady’s approval will change the whole outcome if the stakes are right. That lady is you, intended heir to the throne of Olympus but tied down to a marriage of convenience with one of the princes of Asgard. The prince you choose to marry will be the next king but you refuse to let yourself be a pawn in this game for power. Loki, with his intentions to take you as his queen has far greater reason to marry you than just for the reason of being king. You however, would rather cut off your left arm than exposing yourself for the fact that there’s another purpose besides Loki getting a throne to sit on.

One week later and you found yourself at a sea cliff on Asgard’s largest known bay. You’d brought Henna with you, just like every other day since you got officially banished. Now you couldn’t stand being in the castle and spent almost every waking hour in the city, avoiding the royal family at all cost. Odin even demanded you ate breakfast with them since you were an honored guest but of course you never showed.

Zeus left the day after the banquet and not a word from your parents. They probably didn’t even blink the second he told them their daughter had been locked in with an entire castle of self-centered gods.

“Gods are assholes!” You threw a rock at the size of a basketball into the water and glared at the splash, secretly hoping your father Poseidon would sense it and feel guilt. That was impossible, of course. A Greek god holds no power at the realm of Norse gods.

“My lady, you’re a god.” Henna stayed seated at a comfy rock she found the first day coming to the cliff. She said it was the perfect fit for her to relax her always perfect posture without sloping. You always told her you don’t care if she sloped at non-formal occasions.

“Yes, Henna. Me included.” You were just surprised she didn’t faint because you used such a mundane word, a thing you picked up from the humans on a visit once.

“I can’t stop thinking about what I said to the prince. It was a decade ago, yes, but he still remembers it. Probably thinks about it every time he sees me!” You tried to concentrate on the real reason you were here. To practice. You’d never win anyone’s respect if you couldn’t control your powers. You started with the hardest, the sea; a force that doesn’t want to be tamed.

A pulsing body of water drove up from the sea and flew in front of you. The goal was to force it into a perfect shaped globe, forcing the sea to obey so thoroughly. To your luck the liquid started obeying your wish when you put all your concentration to use. Almost a solid globe. You’d only need a few more seconds to-

“And I’ve already said you should apologize to him. Who knows, you two might hug it out and the next thing you know you wake up naked in his chambers the next day.”

The almost globe burst into millions of droplets and salt burned in your eyes at the shock. Your vision blurred out and you coughed on the water that went down your airways. Heat went to your cheeks and you looked down at your soaked clothes.

“Goodness, Henna! You’ve spent too much time with the Asgardian maids.

You can’t say stuff like that!” Your voice was still faint from the couching as you scolded her. You had to put your focus to use once again to extract the water into fine droplets hanging midair in front of you. The dress was far too pretty to get stained with saltwater. The jewelry looked surreal in the light the dress radiated. Every thread of the fabric seemed to be created of pure shining starlight or liquid diamond. The dress held the beauty of a thousand stars.

No one knew where it appeared from, however. You had your own guess, of course. It laid neatly folded on your work desk one afternoon and if it was the first born prince, he would’ve left some grand note with it as well. The dress just laid there in absence of anyone claiming the rights. An apology for sure.

“Well, you said asshole if I’m not mistaken.” There it was. Henna cleared her throat as a sign to drop the subject but you knew she had a big smirk on her lips. You didn’t want to turn around to confirm it.

“Let’s try again, my lady. Why don’t you try claiming the entire wave coming right there?”

You analyzed the wave and realized what Henna was asking. The size of it was huge and it would surely crash into the cliff side underneath you. Your job was to stop that impact and lift it up to your level.

It was dead silent as you waited for the wave to arrive. With a last big engaging try you felt the power of the sea surging through you. Blocking the impact of the wave lashing itself forwards was similar feeling to getting that same wave right in the face like a wall of bricks. But it was not in vain. The water started to rise to the cliff you stood on and you had to replace your feet for a better stance. Every second the sea threatened to leash out of your hold.

“How mighty.” A soothing voice, yet laced with viciousness, appeared only a hot breath away from your ear and you screamed.

The scent of new books hit you too late and the wave had already been unleashed on the threat behind you. The water had devided around your frame, covering Henna and Loki from head to toe in seawater without showing mercy. The sea held no mercy. Right…

A moment of silence and Loki still had his eyes tightly shut, his entire body frozen in place. He’d been less than an inch from you and you hadn’t noticed. He was still less than an inch from your bodies touching.

He slowly went to wipe one of his eyes clean of water and tasted the layer of salt glancing his lips. You cursed yourself for noticing the shameful way his tongue swiped across his bottom lip. Did he take the warm weather with him somehow or why was it suddenly growing hot again? And why did he look so different with the drenched clothes hugging his frame, hair slicked back. The dripping from the each strand fell and caressed the heavy outline of his collarbones.

What were you even thinking about. He must’ve done something. A spell of some sort.

“That was unnecessary.” He said it as simple as ever and it made you grit your teeth.

Stop staring at his abs, dammit!, you thought.

It had to be a spell. This couldn’t be real.

“Why are you here?” You weren’t prepared for this. He was supposed to be on a mandatory meeting right now. Did he just right up ditch that?

“You’re no fun… I came with a proposition.”

“Of what sorts?” You eyed him with careful detail, trying to sense a trick of some sort. His gaze lingered on your appearance a little too long from what seemed appropriate. It was a thorough scan up and down and the soul behind the eyes held a strange glow. Of course he was shocked you wore the dress he bought.

“We can teach each other things. You tell me stories and history of the Ancient Greece, your kind’s gracious era and I teach you illusion magic.” He could tell your raised eyebrow was a sense of confusion. “Like, combining water and light into something entirely new. I’ll teach you how to conjure spells-“

“Like the one you’re doing now?” It just slipped out of you and it was too late to ignore. It was now his turn to look confused. The tip of his tongue came out once again to wipe off some salt and you looked away.

“What?” He asked.

“Whaaat?” You repeated along with a dumb giggle you had no idea where it came from. The already tight fabric of Loki’s shirt was riding up from the wet fabric rolling itself up. You really did try not to think about how the pearls of droplets looked like glitter in the sun on his toned stomach, but realized that you already failed. You swallowed a hot lump of dryness that caught in your throat.

So no spell then?

Loki sighed and cracked a tense muscle in his neck, a green light drying him and his clothes from bottom and up in a matter of a second (Henna remained drenched).

“Just say no quickly, there’s no reason to drag it out. I’ll leave you be when you’ve answered.” You bit your bottom lip and actually took a moment to think about it.

“Actually, it doesn’t sound too awful. But don’t you already know everything about my realm there is to know?” That earned a genuine smile from him and you thought about how that was a rare sight.

“You’d be surprised of how understocked Asgard’s library is when it comes to your history, your highness.”

“And stop calling me that! It’s weird. You never did it before so why do it now?”

“I thought you disliked me being informal.”

“Oh do shut up!”

Loki laughed and nodded in agreement. It was just then you realized how you were still inappropriately close to him and how his breath smelled of something sweet. Something brushed past your hand and Loki retracted his own with a flinch and an apologetic look.

“I’m s-“ Loki started but Henna’s loud cough and pointed glare.

“Wait!”

“Yes?”

“I don’t… I don’t find you disgusting.” You watched his expression and expected him to get upset but nothing in his body language seemed tense. If anything, his jaw and shoulders seemingly dropped.

“That’s like the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” His chuckle was bright but your gut still twisted in shame.

“No but like, I don’t find your touch disgusting. I never did, actually-“ The amount of truth you entrusted this man with was almost too much. The words were so tense on the way out that you started coughing.

“Then why did you-“

“I don’t know! No more questions though. All I know is that it was far from unpleasant and that’s all you need to know for now.” Loki raised his eyebrow, lips slightly parted. You understood you’d talked before your brain caught up with you again.

“No, that came out wrong. But you know what I mean!” Your hands fiddled on the edges of the dress, only to flatten out the fabric right after. The dry lump just couldn’t seem to go down.

“Oh I sure do… And I agree with you on how we speak to each other. I hate speaking to you formally! It doesn’t sit right for me especially. Then I wouldn’t be able to say the stuff I actually want.”

“Like what?” You regretted asking immediately but couldn’t bring yourself to step back as he leaned in.

Lips brushed against your earlobe and his scent was all up in your world, along with the surreal warmth that always seemed to follow him.

“That dress looks absolutely ravishing on you, (Y/n). I never thought you’d wear it to be honest. We’re you really planning on fleeing the castle on such an occasion and not letting me see any of the beauty?” His voice turned low again and the always present rasp seemed extra present today.

The dry lump finally went down.

“You could’ve gifted it to someone else if you wanted to see the dress on an actual body instead of a hanger.”

A low rumbling came from his chest and erupted in his throat. It took you a moment to realize that the sound was a chuckle.

“See, I don’t think that’s true. Yes, any person could wear it, but I can’t think of anyone else who could wear one of the most beautiful things crafted ever and the most beautiful thing in the room would still remain the person in it.”

You couldn’t move your body. It was frozen in place even though the blood in your veins was literally boiling. You were almost thankful that he was so close. That way he wouldn’t see your red cheeks.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Why would I lie about it? Meet me in the library tomorrow after breakfast. I look forward to our time together.”

(A/N: Hi! Don’t hesitate to comment on each chapter what you thought about it/if you liked it since that keeps me motivated to keep writing. Also reblog so my story reaches a wider audience, if you really liked it! Your support is much appreciated. Also let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this series. Have a good day, lovelies!)

Find the other parts in my MASTERLIST

Tag list: @liffydaze

@queen-of-mischief

@girl-obsessed-with-things

@obsessivelysearching

@reverse-iak

@perpetually-exhausted-and-tired

#inspiration #marvel imagine #marvel #fanfiction #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki x y/n #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x you #loki imagine #loki series #loki x reader #mcu loki #thor of asgard #thor x reader #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel characters

[punkpoemprose]

A Convenient Arrangement Part 10

Universe: Canonverse Arranged Marriage AU Rating:T Length: 8805 Words A/N: Long chapter-- distance makes the heart grow fonder, fluffy date time, questions answered, and Kristoff definitely finds his wife attractive.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9]

The week was a long one. They both would agree when or if asked, but if it wasn’t related to festival plans, no one was asking either one of them anything. When they rose in the morning, they scarcely had time to greet each other in the hall or over breakfast before knocks at the door would pull them each their own way.

Kristoff spent most of his days with Kai, learning all that he could about royal manners, the history of the kingdom, peerage, and the other pertinent information and skills required of a prince consort. He’d be the first to admit it, most of it went over his head. Sometimes when Kai spoke to him he thought that he understood the words well enough individually, but when they were strung together as they were, they may as well have been in French.  

He really had no real interest in knowing whether it was more appropriate to bow or be bowed to when he met other members of the aristocracy which he was now technically a part of. He was doing his best to absorb what he could for Anna’s sake. He hated the idea that his lack of knowledge would reflect poorly on her because at the end of the day, even barely seeing her for a week, he cared deeply for her. He knew that part of making their marriage work was putting the effort in to understand her world.

When the lessons ended for the day, he would sometimes, but not always, have dinner with her. It felt like a small blessing to just be in her space since the announcement of the festival celebrating their engagement. He thought that it might be prudent to spend more time with her given that they were meant to at least appear a happy and doting couple to the public, but that detail seemed to be moot to whoever had decided to plan their days apart.

He supposed that he would seem in love with her regardless because he did have a fondness for her. He was beginning to understand the meaning of “distance makes the heart grow fonder” with each passing day. Every time they managed to dine together, he could often barely calm the racing of his heart while watching her enter the dining room, watching her sit across from him, close enough to look, but not to touch.

She’d ask him about what he had done each day and would share, in return, the plans she’d been making with her sister and the staff for the festival. He’d watch her carefully as they dined, noting the exhaustion in her posture that kept them from discussing much of anything past that. It was usually his only interaction with her each day, and it was always entirely too short.

Every night since the start of their overscheduled days, he’d slept in his room alone. Anna was usually needed elsewhere after dinner, attending to decisions and meetings that had been pushed late into the night. Sometimes she was being stolen for a fitting for her festival gown, other times decoration choices, and at least once she’d been taken for a chocolate tasting. That at least seemed to be the least objectionable way for her to spend her evenings of the lot.  Each night he’d waited for her to return in vain, and each night he’d eventually headed to bed alone.

It had become strangely lonely to climb into his bed at the end of each day, knowing that she would do the same on the opposite side of their shared door. He’d slept alone for his entire life, but after only a few nights with Anna in his arms, he hated the way it felt to lay in the large empty bed without her. Some nights he would stay awake a short while, expecting to hear her knock or laying there wondering if she wanted him to knock. He’d never heard her knock though, he’d just hear the opening of her door, the soft thuds of drawers and doors as she prepared for bed, and then silence.

From across the room, the small chest he stored his things in would taunt him with the memory of something she’d said just a few days before. A crystal sat amongst his belongings, untouched, waiting for him to work up the courage to remove it from its wrappings.

It would make things so much simpler.

Or infinitely more complicated.

He’d fall asleep like that, wondering whether he should knock, whether he should bring her the gem, whether he should just let things be, or whether he should just go spend the night in the stables with Sven and his worries.

At least then I’d have someone to talk to. I don’t even care that he doesn’t speak back.

He slept in his bed each night, and when he woke each morning, he’d feel like he’d barely slept. By the end of the week, he could see the bags under his eyes when he shaved. Only two weeks living in the lap of luxury and it was already exacting a price from him.

At this rate I’ll be grey in a month.

When the knock came again, he sighed, cleaned the remaining soap from his face and shouted for the knocker to enter. He assumed that Kai was arriving with another of his famously packed schedules. While Kristoff rather liked the man, he’d begun to dread his morning arrival. He’d lived his entire life unscheduled, never bothering to pay much attention to the calendar or clock, and he wasn’t particularly thrilled by the concept of time being his master instead of he being the master of it.

The door swung open behind him with only a light sound of protest from the hinges that were still getting used to the room having an occupant. It had been unoccupied for many years, and the door seemed to have enjoyed its time off as even oiling it hadn’t stopped its protest. The soft click of its closure came immediately after, and Kristoff awaited the address from Kai that didn’t come.

There was, instead, a soft clicking of heeled shoes on the wood floor behind him as he wiped the water from his face. He didn’t think much of it or course, not until he heard another familiar voice that made his heart race.

“Kristoff?”

Anna’s voice startled him. Of course, they usually had a quick morning conversation over breakfast, but she hadn’t been in his room, nor he in hers, in a week. He turned to see her, red faced and staring at his chest.

She looked tired as well and there was a sort of tearfulness to her eye that made him nervous. She clearly hadn’t been sleeping well, and he wondered if she had been upset by something. He could admit to being a little more emotional than usual when he was tired, so he could relate, but he couldn’t quite read what was going on with Anna as she stared at him.

He tossed the towel aside. His hair, which he had been about to comb, was still wet and he could feel rivulets of water dripping down his back and over his chest. Despite the warmth of the sun through his window, he felt cool, hairs standing up on his arms as he closed the space between them in long strides.

As he approached, she was still staring at him, her face flushed, and her lips parted slightly as if she were about to say something. She said nothing though, and he started to understand her expression a bit better. There was exhaustion there of course, but it was only serving to exacerbate the absolute frazzled countenance and posture she was currently performing.

It made him relax a bit. She didn’t look upset per say and he did know that his wife was not a morning person. He also had the sneaking suspicion that there was a small tinge of embarrassment in her eye and that it could explain the flush on her cheeks.

She blinked after a moment and looked up from his chest to meet his eye. He started to get the sense from as quickly as she looked away and to the floor that he understood.

Embarrassment.

It was a feeling that he had become remarkably familiar with in the last couple weeks. He’d spent years of his life half or completely naked in the woods, not knowing what it was like to worry about how he looked or sounded, but the castle was quickly making him aware of just how embarrassed he should be about, well, everything.

It was a feeling that he wasn’t particularly fond of in any way shape or form, but it was something he was getting used to. There was something at least a little bit reassuring in being comfortable with discomfort, knowing it was part of the process. Kai had been kind enough to show him that in their lessons, telling him that he was in the perfect position to always act as if he’d done nothing wrong even when he slipped up, and that if he didn’t react it didn’t give anyone else the room to do so either.

“I’m…” she started to stretch her hand out, reaching for him like she was going to press her palm into his chest.

He didn’t back away or shift from her reach, but her hand fell anyway.

“Sorry. I’m… I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting you to be… well that is… I didn’t know you were still getting ready. I’ll, oh gosh. I’ll leave.”

It all clicked into place then, and Kristoff couldn’t help but feel oddly amused. He felt a smile creeping to his face, completely unbidden, for the first time in a long while. He shook his head.

“No, you’re fine. I just finished up. I just need to put a shirt on and comb my hair. Did you need something?”

She seemed to collect herself somewhat as he responded. He watched as she nodded in return, still flushing, but focusing a bit more on making eye contact with him despite it.

“I thought that we could, um, skip the meetings today? I had Kai clear your schedule. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it would be nice to just get out for the day.”

Her voice went soft when she added, quietly, “I’ve missed you.”

He felt like she’d just handed him the most perfect gift he’d ever received. There was nothing he could imagine ever wanting more than spending time away from the castle with her. There was no greater gift than a break from the frustrating monotony of lessons with the built-in bonus of having her at his side.

“I’ve missed you too.”

He turned from her for a moment, crossing the room back to his dressing table. It was a motion with a twofold intention, allowing her to flush again without the scrutiny of his eye, and allowing him to dress and get ready as soon as possible. He could all but feel her relax behind him once his shirt was on, and it almost made him chuckle.

He remembered her sleeping against his bare chest, her face smushed against him as she slept in the most ridiculous and endearing way possible. It was a happy and sad memory, still fresh in his thoughts from how recent it had been. He’d enjoyed feeling her against him, but still remembered what it had felt like to have her shaking, crying into his shirt just before they slept. He pondered why seeing him without a shirt in the light of day was somehow more blush-worthy but decided that he’d rather not dig too deep into it. He’d be happy if they saw a day where she wasn’t embarrassed around him at all. She had no reason to be.

“You look nice,” she said after a short time.

He’d felt her eyes on him as he’d finished readying himself for the day. He walked over to her, tying his sash around his waist as he went.

He hadn’t been convinced by Kai to change his style of dress, and he had been grateful that the man hadn’t really tried to convince him to do so at all. As a result of this, he was told that he had more clothes coming to him than he’d ever owned before, and that they would be in finer fabrics than he’d ever ben about to afford. He was grateful though that they would mostly mimic the styles he’d always worn, and that they would fit. He couldn’t ask for a better outcome to his tailoring situation than that.

He would have locked himself in the palace’s dungeon before he would have worn all the frills and layers of other men of station. He understood the need for a good suit but would never quite be on board with lace. He evidently had a set of formalwear arriving soon, and while he wasn’t particularly excited about it, he had been promised that his daily wear would not be nearly so embellished and that what he had coming was downright innocuous compared to the season’s fashions. Kai had called it “timeless” and he hoped that what he meant by that was “simple”.

Anna seemed cautious when she walked to his side after offering the compliment. Kristoff held his breath when she reached out a hand and gently smoothed a wrinkle in the front of his shirt with her palm.

Having her hands on him always felt good. There was no denying the fact that he enjoyed her attentions, and he couldn’t help but grin when her touch lingered a little longer than strictly necessary. He’d been longing to see her for days, to hold her hand, to even stand near her side.

“Thank you,” he said quietly after he allowed himself to breathe again.

He turned his attention to what she wore. It was perhaps the simplest dress he’d ever seen her wear, save of course for her nightgowns. It was dark green with some small embroidered details around the neck. It looked a bit like little flowers and birds, though he didn’t dare dip his head down towards her neck to investigate further. He didn’t think he could keep himself from pressing a kiss to her neck if he did. Even without further inspection, the fabric seemed light, like if he touched her waist while she wore it, she might be able to feel the roughness of his fingers through it.

“You look beautiful.”

She grinned at the compliment and he couldn’t help but feel grateful that she was happy to hear such a thing from him of all people.

“Thank you.”

He watched as she laced her fingers together behind her back and fidgeted a bit. Her nervousness came through when she spoke again.

“Since we’re going out I didn’t want to wear anything that would draw too much attention. I’m glad you still like it.”

He almost laughed, but held the reaction in. He wondered how she could ever be nervous about her appearance, as if she weren’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. As if he wouldn’t have thought that she was gorgeous even if they weren’t married. As if every man with eyes in a mile wouldn’t notice her even if she wore rags.

“I’ve told you before Anna, you’ll still turn heads. It has nothing to do with what you wear.”

He meant it, and he was rewarded by a shy smile and the unlacing of her fingers from each other, only to slip between his. The way his heart raced from her simply holding his hand made his face red.

Does she know how easily I’d fall apart for her?

He had to chase the thought away. He had to focus on the moment they were in before he said something he shouldn’t, something they weren’t ready for yet.

“So,” he asked, “What are we doing today?”

She shrugged a bit, then started to pull him toward the door to the hallway with her. He didn’t resist, letting himself be tugged along at her mercy.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

Every time she smiled, with every moment he spent holding her hand, he fell in love a bit deeper.

***

Anna’s morning had, thus far, not gone according to plan. Of course, there had barely been a plan to begin with, but blushing like a schoolgirl over seeing her husband shirtless and having her sister find out about her intentions to leave the castle weren’t exactly indicative of what it was that she’d had in mind.

As a consequence of the latter unplanned component of her day, she now found herself and her fortunately-and-unfortunately-fully-dressed husband being followed by a royal guard in full uniform. She felt like she was thirteen, being chaperoned on a date instead of being an adult woman out on a walk with her husband.

It’s not like I’m planning to snog him in the middle of the market.

Then a more judicious thought.

Of course, I didn’t plan a lot of things that have been happening lately.

She shook it off and instead focused on her recollection of her conversation with her sister.

“There’s still some unrest amongst the people Anna, what would you do if someone decided to take their anxiety out on you?”

She’d wanted to respond in several ways, most of which were incredibly sarcastic, but the forerunners had been each unique in their ability to elicit a response from her sister.

I would survive. You’ve taken your anxieties out on me twice.

From Elsa: Sadness.

I would fight them.

From Elsa: Long suffering exhaustion.

I would let my incredibly big and strong husband take care of it for me while I ogle him from the sidelines because while I love to fight my own battles, I also think it would be nice to watch him fight someone for me so I could watch those biceps flex.

Embarrassment on both of their parts.

Anna had, in the last week of barely seeing him but at meals and in passing, taken a particular interest in her husband’s physique. The morning’s events were not even close to the first time she’d looked at him and thought about what it would be like to be in his arms again, to have his large hands spanning her waist, lifting her off her feet and up closer to him.

So close that we could kiss.

She’d been longing for his touch since the first night she’d slept along. All week, once she managed to slip into a fitful sleep, she’d dreamt of him kissing her. She could still remember how real it had felt in her sleep, not that she knew what it would really feel like. They’d kissed at their wedding, her first and only “real” kiss, but the sort of deep, attentive kiss she’d received from him in her dream was something she’d never experienced.

I want to. I desperately want to.

They were in the residential district of the city. The cobbles of the path were fairly worn, but even below her feet. There were places here and there that she was already mentally noting needed improvement. A few lamps had cracked glass that likely made them unreliable on breezy evenings, some places in the road were low and held water that didn’t drain off easily. She would tell Elsa and ensure that a more formal investigation of the city and national infrastructure was eventually made. Personally, she thought that such a thing might be the better way to improve public opinion of the monarchy than a grand display of power and wealth, but she couldn’t pretend that her wedding hadn’t improved things.

Every now and then as they walked, she’d catch someone looking at her twice. Most people were away from home, working or learning at school, but a few people were home or in the area. Older people and young mothers mostly looked at her with recognition, and she did her best to give them a shy smile without giving the indication that she was available to stop and chat. It was a delicate dance. She liked to speak with her people, of course, but she truly just wanted to spend some time with her husband. One tagalong is already bad enough.

She’d wanted to go to the market. She’d thought it might be enjoyable to see the wares she’d only watched traded from above, but her unwanted guard had insisted that “her royal highness and her consort refrain from entering any highly trafficked and indefensible zones” which had, essentially made a trip to the market impossible unless she wanted a full guard detail.

That would certainly inspire confidence in the monarchy. Hello peasants, we don’t trust you to not murder our Princess, don’t mind the platoon of men you may or may not know who are, at any moment, prepared to stab you!

She’d all but felt Kristoff rolling his eyes in response to the guard’s words. It was like she sensed the expression he was making at her side before she’d even caught him actually making it.

“It’s just a little further… I think,” she said a bit nervously, squeezing Kristoff’s arm as they walked down the street together.

There were a few specialty shops that weren’t housed in the market district, and while she hadn’t visited any of them in many years, she thought that she’d recalled the location of the shop she was after. Thought, of course was the appropriate term given that nothing looked exactly as it had the last time she’d been in the area. The years had a funny way of changing things, and she hadn’t been to the shop without her mother which was indicative of the time that had passed since she’d seen it last.

Kristoff didn’t seem to mind the somewhat aimless walking they were doing. Anna suspected that if she told him the locations she desired to reach, he’d have an answer for her, but she liked keeping it a secret. It gave some small crumb of fun back to the adventure which had been intended to be more daring before their escort had been assigned.

“I bet you know these streets better than I do,” she said after a few more moments of walking, giving voice to her thoughts.

Mostly she was just endeavoring to break the silence between them. He’d seemed rather thrilled to leave the castle, but he’d been quiet since they left. She had a feeling that their unwelcome follower was making him as uncomfortable as it was making her annoyed.

“Not so much in these side streets,” he replied.

He pulled her ever so slightly right as they walked, helping her to avoid a puddle she hadn’t noticed until he was steering her around it. It was sweet, she thought, that he was saving her shoes from getting damp. She also didn’t mind how easily he’d pulled her even closer to his side with the gesture, putting her even more in his space.

“I do know the market fairly well though. When I sell ice I tend to stay over that way.”

Anna nodded and gave him an appreciative squeeze for the assistance with the puddle. He was absolutely the helpful sort, but somehow she doubted that he advertised himself that way. She got the distinct sense in his interactions with the guards, the staff, and anyone else she’d seen him forced to interact with, that he’d rather be seen as gruff and unapproachable. He wasn’t overly so with her, but she sometimes felt that he acted like a grump when in reality he just felt awkward or uncomfortable.

She tended to talk a lot when she felt the same way. It was something she knew about herself, that she dealt with anxiety with exuberance and self-deprecation. She was trying to get a better handle on it, and now with Kristoff at her side she found that it was easier to lean on him for support when she was feeling out of control. She hoped that he’d find he could do the same with her.

When she noticed the shop she was looking for nestled between two houses to their left she excitedly tugged Kristoff in return. She hadn’t been there in a great many years, but the old building still looked the way she remembered it as a child.

Oaken’s Thrifted Goods, Antiques and Consignments.

She’d traveled there every now and again with her mother who, despite being the Queen of their nation, was practical and more interested in the old than the new. They’d always looked for things there that reminded her mother of her youth, little things that were made by hand that reminded Anna that while few knew it, her mother had been common as well.

She sometimes wished that she had asked more questions of her mother, that she had learned the story of how she’d met her father and how they’d come to be wed. All Anna did know was that Iduna wasn’t born in Arendelle and that she was not royal by blood. There were some records somewhere in the archives about her being given a duchy somewhere in the direction of the hinterlands, and with the suddenness that she’d shown up in her father’s public life, she supposed that everyone must have assumed that she was born noble and had simply spent her whole life in the hills.

Maybe, she thought, Kristoff wouldn’t feel so out of place if he knew that he was not the first consort to Arendelle royalty to have been born common. She wondered if he would take comfort in the fact that the nation’s Queen hadn’t had an ounce of royal blood and that it had been purposeful. Marrying for love was not common for aristocracy, but her parents had done it.

“Oaken’s?”

Kristoff seemed confused, staring at the sign for a moment as if in disbelief.

“Yes?”

Anna stopped short of the door, feeling as confused as he was, her confusion having everything to do with his confusion and nothing to do with the shop before them. She didn’t think that the shop had ever moved. It might have changed hands in the years since she’d been there last, the owner had been an older man so she supposed it was possible that the shop was now run by someone who was not an Oaken. She wondered if that was the point of confusion for him, maybe he thought that the business had been renamed or something.

“There’s an Oaken who owns a trading post up in the mountains. It couldn’t be the same guy, right?”

Anna shrugged; she really couldn’t say for sure. She was glad to understand why he was confused, and she couldn’t help but try to recall whether or not the last name was terribly common.

“Because uh…” he looked back toward the guard, and then back at Anna seeming a little sheepish.

He ducked down and whispered in her ear, “The Oaken I know, he and I occasionally get into arguments over pricing. We’ve mostly worked it out, but I thought you should know in case we walk in and I get the stink eye.”

Anna tried to hold back her laugh, but to no avail.

He gave her an exasperated look when she walked them through the door, turning back to tell the guard he wasn’t needed indoors.

“Yet.”

***

Kristoff was grateful to know that the Oaken inside the shop was not the Oaken he’d recently had some “pricing debates” with. They rarely really argued, but he’d felt on one or two occasions that his arguments with Oaken brought the usually even-tempered man to the point of anger. They’d always sorted it out of course, but he was still waiting for the day that the man would throw him out on his rear over a debate.

No, this Oaken was much older, possibly the father of the man he knew, or some other elderly relative given the similarity of their faces and builds. He seemed similarly even tempered thus far, but perhaps a bit less enthusiastic. He’d been pleasant with Anna of course, recognizing her as the crown Princess and evidently a former customer, but he’d also told them in no unspecific terms that he was too old to help them and that if they had any questions, they should come to him because he was not going to them.

“Isn’t it so neat in here?”

Kristoff couldn’t help but smile as he saw Anna taking in the many items packed into the small building. They were arranged neatly, everything from old steamer trunks and hand-crafted furniture to piles of old keys and shelves of dusty books.

Anna grinned at all of it, openly gazing about the space like it was full of gold instead of second and third hand items. He thought that it was charming in a way, that the practical used items of the people who lived in her kingdom were of interest to her.

“My mother and I used to spend hours here when I was a little girl. She taught me how to sew using old tablecloths we bought here… not that I’m particularly good at it, but I can put a button back on if I need to.”

He couldn’t help but find her excitement at least a little bit contagious as he gazed upon the shelves and tables of items with her. There was something about the well-worn tools and broken in chairs in the space that spoke to him in a way that the fancy spotless trappings of the castle just couldn’t. He’d always been practical, and the items here were nothing if not sensible.

“It’s strange for me to try to imagine a Queen here,” he said, hoping that she took no offense to his saying so.

He was happy when he noticed Anna smiling fondly.

“My mom wasn’t really the royal type… not that she didn’t act like a Queen, because she did. She just never saw the point in waste, and she liked simple things. I have a shawl of hers that she had since she was a girl, a pretty handmade thing that she mended herself. That’s how I usually remember her; warm and pragmatic.”

“I’d probably describe my mom the same way,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet yours.”

Anna looked sad for a moment, but Kristoff could tell that it wasn’t his fault. The space brought it out of her as much as it brought her joy. He knew it was her first time here without her, and he was glad that they were talking about it. He was glad that she’d brought him somewhere so important to her.

“I’m sorry too,” she said before taking a deep breath and adding, “she would have liked you.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just gave her what he hoped came off as an appreciative smile and squeezed her hand.

When she squeezed back and leaned into this side, for the first time in a week, he felt like he could truly relax.

“I thought we’d look for some things for your room?”

There was a bit of trepidation in her voice that he registered as nerves coming through. He wondered how long they would be nervous when they spoke to each other, how often they’d be walking on glass with one another. He already trusted her, and he desperately wanted to show himself to be worthy of her trust in return. Testing the already tenuous bonds of their fledgling relationship was understandably nerve wracking.

“I don’t really need much… I brought most of my things with me.”

He didn’t want to shut her down. He didn’t want to say no when she clearly wanted to do something with him. He just was unused to the idea of buying things for himself. He usually only bought what he couldn’t make or find himself

She’s trying.

“I… I know, it’s just… I know the room isn’t probably the way you want it to be. I remember your cabin being a lot cozier and I thought that maybe we could find some things here to make it a little more like that. Elsa suggested we get a decorator for you to consult with, but I kind of thought you’d hate that so…”

She let out a sort of nervous laugh and he felt his heart racing in his chest.

She’s been thinking about this. She’s been thinking about you.

“I… I’m not used to buying things… or having things bought for me. It just feels strange I suppose.”

Anna’s fingers slipped from his then, and the loss of contact was immediately distressing until she felt them tentatively shifting up his arm and wrapping around his bicep. She stepped in front of him and gave him a soft smile before pulling him in the direction of the nearby bookshelves that separated the front and back of the shop, forming an archway between them.

Once they had slipped past the shelves, she pulled him into a smaller alcove in the shop filled from floor to ceiling in small, labeled drawers. According to their labels they held everything from furniture hardware to saltshakers and children’s toys. She leaned into him once they were in the space, hiding them away in the already empty shop save for its owner.

“Please,” she said softly.

She wrapped her arms around him and looked up at him. He thought that she looked a bit determined despite the hesitancy she’d shown a few minutes before.

“I know this is all new and strange to you, but I really just… I want to do something for you. Please? I wasn’t even able to get you a wedding gift, and frankly if you’re worried about money… I guess no one told you about my dowry?”

He blinked for a moment, trying to focus on what she was saying when all he could think about was that she was hugging him. A week away from her touch, and only being somewhat familiar with the feeling of having her wrapped around him was taking its toll on his mind. He was already frazzled, just by the way it felt to have her against him again.

He wrapped his arms around her in return and noticed the way she melted into him a little more as he did so. He did his best to catalogue all the ways in which she was making him feel, and he flushed a bit when he realized that the embrace, combined with the doe eyed gaze she was giving him, was causing a very specific sort of reaction in him that he’d thus far been managing in her presence.

His wife was beautiful, he was getting a very good view of her freckled decolletage, and he was very much a man. He could feel his face going red again.

“I’m sorry,” he said a bit nervously realizing he hadn’t really heard what she’d said, “What?”

“I want to get you some things as a wedding gift, but if you’d prefer… I guess no one told you about the dowry, but there’s…” she cleared her throat, seeming embarrassed to be discussing money with him, “there’s a lot there. I think you have an account with the treasury, maybe Kai was going to tell you later, but anyway… you can afford to purchase things on your own if you want… I just, I really wanted to do something for you today. I wanted to do something with you.”

He almost asked about the dowry, the heart attack that revelation gave him being enough to distract him from the line his thoughts had been running in, but he could tell the discussion was making Anna uncomfortable. He didn’t exactly feel like telling her in this fraught moment that he wanted no bride price from her, and that certainly didn’t need the sort of exorbitant amount of money she was implying.

“If you would enjoy it,” he said after a moment, clearing his throat when the words came out a bit muddled, “I’m sure we could find something. You’re right, the room isn’t exactly cozy.”

I can’t tell her that I prefer her room over mine.

She smiled then and leaned her head into his chest. He felt the tension leaving both of their bodies when he pulled her closer.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He pressed a kiss into her hair and reveled in the soft sound she made in return. He longed for the day he’d kiss her properly.

***

Anna had almost felt bad relegating their guard to purchase handling duty.

Almost.

Of course, it hadn’t been his fault that he’d been sent to mettle in her day plans, but she was still a little miffed that he’d prevented her from taking Kristoff into the market to pick out some new things for his room. She knew that it was because Elsa had been the one to insist upon his guarding, but Anna wished that sometimes people were more amenable to bending her sister’s rules. She certainly was herself.

It didn’t matter now though, not when she felt Kristoff’s hand at her back, supporting her on the ladder they’d requested be brought up to his room so that Anna could hang the sage green curtains they’d managed to find at the shop.

He’d laughed at her glee over finding them, and she’d felt genuinely happy to be laughed at. She liked that her enthusiasm brought him joy, and truly she hadn’t felt like she was being laughed at by him. The better term would be that he was laughing with her, and she thought that if it was something that they could do together every day, their marriage would be exactly what she’d always wanted.

All I’ve ever wanted was for someone to love me.

She saw it in his eye when he helped her off the ladder. The joy of sharing the domesticity of the day with her, the spark of something that she might dare call like if not love. She held the joy it brought her in her heart, locked it up tight so that nothing that might occur in the next week leading up to the festival might steal it from her.

“You’re right,” he said warmly, “They do make it feel less…”

“Formal,” she finished.

The curtains were simple, a plain sage green with some small vines at the very top and bottom embroidered in white thread. Had she been any good at it, or had she had the patience for it, she liked to think that it would have been the sort of thing she would have made for him.  

He nodded, and she felt his hands linger at her waist even when she was standing back on solid ground.

They’d shared lunch when they’d returned, eating it at the table in his room that was now decorated with a small candle holder she’d found that reminded them both of Sven’s antlers.

“When they bring the high back chairs up from storage, I think that’ll help too. We can have them put by the fireplace.”

She’d insisted that since he hadn’t allowed her to purchase any furniture for him, even used, that he select some furniture from the castle storage to improve the comfort of the space. He had selected a few items from a list she’d sent for while they were dining and she was rather pleased by his choices.

Making his room more comfortable for him was something that she was taking great enjoyment from.

That I’m also making it more comfortable for me is just a bonus.

She couldn’t really lie to herself. It was, in part, by design that she had insisted on two chairs instead of one, and that she’d encouraged him to pick a lovely quilt from the shop that made her think of the one they’d been wrapped in at his cabin. She couldn’t deny that she was thinking ahead to a time where perhaps she’d spend more time in his space, though she could hardly dare to think about a time beyond that, a time where his things would blend together with hers and where they would spend every night together. A time where the door between their rooms wouldn’t be needed.

Her heart raced every time the thought crossed her mind.

He lifted up the last remaining item they had to find a home for, a small wooden trinket box that he’d taken an interest in early on in their search. It had been amongst a pile of tools but had not been large enough to hold any of them. It was simple, smaller than her jewelry boxes, but roomy enough to fit a few small objects. The top had a line of trees burned into it but was the only decoration on the piece.

“I think I know what belongs in here,” he said after a few moments of looking it over.

I think I do too.

Her heart raced when he crossed the room to his chest and kneeled to the floor to open it. She’d been hoping, quietly, almost secretively to even herself, that he would want to show her the crystals again.

What did it mean? Why did he nearly kiss me after I told him about the glow?

***

The crystals were wrapped loosely in scraps of fabric, protecting their rough natural edges from chipping and breaking. He could feel the soft hum of magic inside each of them, even through the cloth. His parents had taught him how to feel it, encouraging him to focus on it and to guide the magic into his hands. He would never be able to control it as they did. Magic didn’t run in his blood like it did theirs, but as Anna approached behind him, he made the choice to show her, at least as much as he could, the importance of the gems.

He patted the floor beside him and was grateful when she didn’t hesitate to sit at his side in front of the box. He watched as she quickly settled herself to his side, her knees bumping into his gently as she sat.

“I think they deserve a special home,” he said, gesturing to the box he’d already set on his other side.

One deserves a very special home. It belongs with you.

The thought didn’t exactly catch him off guard as much as it slipped through the cracks of the wall he’d been holding it behind. He couldn’t admit to himself that he had a great deal of hope about what Anna had said before about the crystal, because to admit that would be to invite disappointment when the outcome was decidedly not what he was hoping for.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because I love her. If it’s not by fate it’s at least by choice.

He took some small comfort in it as he unwrapped the gems and lifted out the yellow one first.

“This one,” he said, focusing on the way it felt warm in his palm, encouraging it to give off a light glow, “is a fire crystal. They come in a few shades of red and orange and yellow. The trolls can actually start fires with them, but I can get it to warm up a little if I really focus on it.”

After a moment of quiet between them he heard her gasp as the crystal began to glow a pale yellow. He couldn’t help but grin when he handed it to her and let her watch the glow fade. He noticed the way she hovered a hand above the stone feeling the slight warmth radiate off of it from above as she felt it in her palm. She seemed thoroughly impressed and he couldn’t help but feel a bit proud to have been able to show it to her.

He handed her the small box and watched as she carefully set the stone inside. Once she was finished, he pulled out the next crystal, the blue one. He’d never had quite as much luck getting an effect with it, but he could make it glow.

“This one is a water crystal. The trolls can get them to make rain, but I’ve only ever been able to get a little condensation on the outside and I’m not convinced it wasn’t just sweat from my hand.”

When she laughed he felt light.

It’s easy to feel hopeful when everything she does makes my heart race.

The gem let off a light glow, but little more. She seemed impressed nevertheless and when he handed it to her, she focused on it in her palm for a short while before setting it too into the box with great care.

He had to remind himself to breathe watching her look from the box to him. When her eye met his, a strange knowingness there, he felt fear leave him. They were so close that he could easily kiss her, just by leaning in. He let the cloth fall away from the last crystal and forced himself to inhale deeply, breaking their eye contact to turn his attention to the pale pink gem.

She’s my wife. I love her.

“This one,” he began, lifting it from the fabric with his other hand to show her better, “This one is special. Every man in my family receives one when they reach adulthood, and they guard it closely. Its magic is special because it’s tied to the heart. I never really listened to everything my father told me about it because I never thought I’d have a reason to show it to anyone, but…”

She was looking at him intently, her eyes meeting his and then glancing to his lips. He felt his heart racing.

“Why doesn’t it glow when you hold it?” she asked, breaking the long silence where he’d let his speech drop off.

He gave her a soft, almost rueful smile. She felt like there was a joke there that she didn’t understand.

“Because it’s mine,” he started, then after a moment’s thought, continued, “It’s confusing and hard to explain if you weren’t raised knowing about it, but essentially the trolls think that everyone has a fated partner, a second half. You know they believe in fate, we discussed it when you met them, but this is the ultimate show of that belief. The only person that is supposed to make your gem glow is your soulmate.”

She flushed and he longed to give her a better reason to do so than a crystal. He wanted to scoop her up into his arms and tell her that it didn’t matter whether or not it glowed when she touched it. He wanted to kiss her and show her how little it mattered to him, but it would be a lie.

It does matter. I love her. I want her to see that I will only ever love her.

He knew she’d be crushed if it didn’t.

He watched as she extended her hand to him slowly. There was a shine to her eye that he understood as nerves. She’d told him before that the gem had glowed when she’d touched it, but he had thought about all the things it could have been, and was sure that she was worried about it as well.

A trick of the light, a fluke, a misremembrance from a day where she’d been given shock after shock.

“You don’t have to.”

She gave him a soft smile in return.

“I think we both know that I do.”

There was a finality in the way she cautiously uncurled her fingers, insisting that he deposit the gem in her hand. He wondered if she truly believed what she had seen before, or if the nerves he had seen in her were from the concern that it wouldn’t react to her touch.

He dropped it into her palm and felt the racing of his heart reach a crescendo.

Pink.

***

Anna felt her heart racing as he handed her the gem. She could see in his eyes that this meant even more than he was saying.

Soulmates. The glowing means we’re soulmates.

She’d spent her whole life wanting to be wanted, wanting to be someone’s everything. She tried to shake off her concerns that she’d been seeing things before when she’d made the gem glow in his cabin, but it was hard to believe that she had always been meant for someone, that she and Kristoff had been fated to be together.

She saw the shakiness of his normally steady hand as he held the gem over her palm, and she had to remind herself to breathe in the moments before he released it into her hand.

She gasped when the cold gem hit her skin and immediately sent a bright pink glow across her palm.

Fate.

Soulmates.

She’d already known. Something inside her had known since their wedding night, even before the trolls, that with Kristoff was where she was meant to be. The confirmation had her joyous.

He wrapped his hand over hers when he recognized the light, squeezing the gem between their palms and doing nothing to dampen the glow. If anything, Anna thought that it might be glowing even more under the combined touch of their skin. She didn’t have long to notice whether it was true or not though, because her view was quickly blocked by Kristoff entering her space.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her to him enthusiastically. She let an appreciative, borderline needy, sound slip from her mouth and was rewarded by the press of his lips to hers.

It was a remarkably different kiss to the one they’d shared at their wedding. It wasn’t quick, it wasn’t chaste, and it wasn’t required.

She took the hand that was not entwined with his and let it slip up to his hair naturally. She’d wanted to slide her fingers through his hair for well over a week, and now it felt instinctive to do so. Her hand squeezed a bit tighter against his as she deepened the kiss, feeling the way he drew her in even closer as she did so.

She didn’t try to tame the soft sounds of pleasure that slipped from her mouth and into his, she didn’t fight it when he kissed her breathless. She simply forged ahead, feeling safe and loved in her husband’s arms, kissing him with love and appreciation.

My husband. My soulmate. How could I ever have doubted it for even a moment?

***

He hated to be the one to break the kiss, especially after being the one to initiate it. Unfortunately, what he could remember of his family’s tradition dictated that he stop kissing her at some point. He had work to do now, and there was only one place he could do it.

He let his free hand slide up from where he’d been holding her, to her cheek, cradling it. Her eyes were still half lidded and showed pleasure in their darkness as she looked from his lips to his eyes. She was glowing as much as the gem was, and he couldn’t help but to take a moment to just stare at how beautiful his wife was.

She leaned her head into his palm lovingly, almost nuzzling him. He thought that someday if she allowed him to, they’d sit just like this again and he’d count each and every freckle on her nose and cheeks. It was a scene that played out nicely in his thoughts, giving him the strength through promises of the future, to pull away.

“I’m sorry Anna, but I have to leave for tonight. I have to go do something… I have to tell…”

“You have to tell your family,” she said matter of factly, understanding in the face of his uncertain apologetics.

“It’s okay,” she added after a moment, “I’ll still be here when you come home.”

What she didn’t say, but what he heard in her tone was the “I love you”.

He leaned in again and when she kissed him, he felt the words in the act. He tried his best to give it to her in return.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Anna, my wife, my soulmate, I love you.

Someday soon he’d say it out loud.

#kristanna #frozen fanfiction #A Convenient Arrangement #Arranged Marriage AU

[aureostuff]

Anger Issues

Brothers with an MC who has anger issues, cusses like a sailor and is also very strong, but is very supportive and caring.

Gender Neutral Reader

Lucifer

He can get quite annoyed with you at times since your outbursts tend to lead you to breaking anything within a five kilometer radius, and that includes his brothers.

He’ll have to lock you up in your room to prevent anything else from breaking. 

Sometimes when you get REALLY angry at him, you’ll end up swearing at him so fucking hard that Satan would literally be cheering you on.

“Lucifer you motherfucking son of a bitch where the FUCK is my Limited-Edition Vinyl Box Set?!” “MC, what did you just call me?”

This man will not accept being called a ‘motherfucking son of a bitch’, remember he’s the avatar of pride. He will not take your insult well. It also turns out that he accidentally broke it.

Though you insulted him that badly over your broken Vinyl box set, you still care for him as usual. Scolding him for having a shitty work and sleep schedule. Insisting that he could get more work done rested well. (though you’d prefer if he worked less and spent more time with you)

Mammon

Is fucking scared of you, but also fucking in love with you. He’d even sacrifice the things he’s bought that were so fucking expensive, for you to use it as a stress reliever. 

Story time, when Mammon tried to escape Levi and use you as a sacrifice. You’d literally grab his jackets collar, and said to him. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Are you that scared of some scrawny-ass bitch?”

Sadly, he managed to get away. 

There are cute moments between you two at times. Like how you are literally helping him get over his immense fear of Lucifer and telling him to ‘man up’ and you also encourage him to stand up to the people who bully him, like a real man.

“Listen here Mammon, you gotta stop letting your lil’ brothers bullying you. You are literally the second strongest, act like it! You’ve gotta stop acting like a pussy!”

All I can say is you’re making progress, just very slowly.

Leviathan 

Remember how I said that you called Levi a ‘scrawny-ass bitch’? He was very offended by that, but couldn’t help but accept it as the truth since he is what you’d call a ‘Slim-Jim’

He’ll yell at you, saying that was offensive. And he couldn’t help it since he was a disgusting shut-in Otaku.

“Who the fuck told you you could degrade yourself huh? I see nothing wrong with how you are you fucking dumbass!”

He’ll be crying tears of gratitude, but he’ll quickly wipe them away and get down to business to defeat, the Huns.

He’ll invite you to play video games with him (specifically games like Super Smash Demons) just to see your angered reaction when he wins. He’ll find it amusing and scary at the same time. It was funny to watch the loser rage when you won. And it was scary because unlike the times when he watched the losers rage, the loser, was RIGHT beside him, and could literally put him in the hospital. 

Whenever he calls himself a gross disgusting otaku, etc. you will literally smack him and swear at him very heavily, yelling at him to stop calling himself that. 

Satan

You think the avatar of wrath, ANGER INCARNATE, would get along with you, A LITERAL TICKING TIME BOMB THAT’S ABOUT TO EXPLODE. Well you are sorely mistaken. 

You guys would literally be the best the best of buddies. No doubt about that. You both would go to libraries (and proceed to get kicked out because of how loud you are), go to art museums to admire art. (and proceed to get kicked out because you’re being too loud and disturbing the other people who are trying to admire the art).

He’ll vent to you about his daddy issues problems with Lucifer. And you’ll gladly help him vent out all his pent up anger. “Listen here Satan. The best way to vent your anger is through violence, so if you don’t want to beat somebody to a bloody pulp, now’s your chance to do so.” when you told him that he was like: dude wtf is wrong with you. Then you told him that he could just use a punching bag. 

So yay! He can let out all his anger AND get ripped! Nice. He can use his (soon to arrive) muscles to crack Lucifer’s head open, yipee!!!

Though sometimes you get angry at Satan and vice versa. You two’ll get into fights and the room you two were fighting will be absolutely DEMOLISHED. Satan would be in demon form- no joke, he will be in his fucking demon form. 

You will both be incredibly bloody and beat up, that the brothers wont be able to recognize you. Apart from those ‘small’ fights, you both are very good friends and always look out for each other.

Asmodeus 

He’ll be telling you that being that angry will make you look like an old person, ew! 

Honestly in my opinion, he’ll be the person you’ll complain about your (small) problems to the most. He’ll be painting your nails and you’ll be like: “Dude, Beel ate the fucking food I ordered from Akudonalds! I was fucking starving and Beel just had to come along and eat it.”  “I get what you mean darling, one time Beel ate the limited edition perfume I had bought and was going to use on my date with this hot succubus.” 

Whenever he’ll take a pic with you, you’ll always look angry or be mid-shout in said pic. 

The replies on that photo would fall into one of three categories: a. They’re mainly focusing on Asmo, b. They would be laughing at your face or c. They’d be asking on who the fuck you were.

Asmo would reply to one of the comments in category c telling them: “He’s my significant other ofc~~”

You could always sense whenever he was feeling insecure, so being the good friend you are, you pull up a chair, and have a talk with Asmo.

Beelzebub

Your strong? Well now you’re Beelzebub’s gym buddy yayyyyyy.

Ninety percent of gym equipment is broken since you get a bit too angry, and Lucifer is going to give you one heck of a scolding. 

Beel will eat your food (he’s the avatar of gluttony, what’d you expect), then you’d literally be throwing hands with this giant.

“BEELZEBUUUUUUUUUUUB, HOW DARE YOU EAT THE FOOD I’VE BEEN WAITING TO ARRIVE FOR A LITERAL FUCKING HOUR.”

He’ll feel sorry and try to make it up to you, he’ll give you food, more food, even more food. Till there’s a mountain of his stash of food (plus the food from the fridge) right outside your door, he would literally wait outside your door, starving, as he’s waiting for you to go outside.

When you do go outside, you’ll spot Beel, hugging his knees, most likely asleep. You’ll sigh and grab some of the food on the pile and made your way towards the man. You grabbed him by his hair, lifting his head up. Beel would yawn and blink twice, then he’ll see your face. “MC... I’m sorry about your food...” you sighed. “Don’t worry about it Beel, now eat this shit. I know you’re hungry.”

Belphegor 

When he tried to kill you, your first thoughts were: Aight, time to kick this guy in the family jewels

And that you did. 

Though you still died, so your efforts were all in vain, and then you came back to life. You literally charged at him and pinned him to the ground, shouting profanities as the brothers tried to get you off of him. 

Honestly, you guys really wouldn’t get along that well. If he’s going to try to sleep, one way or another you’re going to stroll in arguing with one of his brothers. You were yelling loudly and swearing a bit too much that it caused Belphie to wake up, which in itself is an impossible achievement since Belphegor could literally sleep through an entire building construction even if it was all happening right beside him.

He’d be pissed that you woke him up, and then you’d forget your previous argument and focus on the one you currently having with the Avatar of Sloth.

He’ll be very happy when he sees you have fights with Lucifer, because nobody in their right mind would dare shout curse words and punch him in the gut, apart from him and Satan of course. When Lucifer locks you up in your room, he’ll make an attempt to help you escape your prison if he’s feeling generous. 

#obey me #obey me x reader #swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons

[rhysismydaddy]

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 5 (Nessian)

Damnation Series

Parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 

____________________________________________________________

~Cassian~

A week later, I’m exceptionally proud to say I haven’t given in yet. No matter how much I want to.

Tensions the past seven days have been... high, to say the least.

Both of us are doing our absolute best to drive the other insane.

She’s doing it so I either sign the deed and give in or turn to someone else, both which would give her Sera back.

I’m doing it because if I have to suffer, she can bet her pretty ass she does, too.

Ironically, tonight’s our engagement party. A celebration of our undying love and an announcement to the world the Russians and Italians of New York should no longer hate and murder each other.  

They’re allowed to be sexually frustrated as hell, but no, they can’t kill each other.

I’m waiting for the little minx who’s spent the week making me regret ever even asking for the club, drinking bourbon so I’m too drunk to even be tempted by her--which is likely enough to kill me--when she finally deigns to grace me with her presence.

I take one look at her, starting at the high blonde ponytail that would wrap around my fist at least twice and ending at the very high, very red shoes I immediately want by my shoulders.

“Fuck.”

Obviously the reaction she was looking for, she smiles.

Her dress is a cream color thing that clings to her curves and is short enough to showcase her long legs. It’s somehow classy, while low enough to draw my eyes to her breasts as she comes down the stairs towards me.

Nesta stops right before me, close enough I smell the jasmine and vanilla of her skin, and looks at me through her lashes.

I turn my gaze to the ceiling, vowing to keep it there until I trust myself to not do something stupid like tell her she’s the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen.

“I’m so fucked,” I mutter hopelessly.

If possible, she comes closer, sliding all the interesting, female parts of her against me. “You would be if you just gave me back my shit.”

I glare down at her. “I don’t like to lose.”

“Would you really be losing?”

I keep my mouth shut, because the answer to that question is a big fat no. God, she’s good.

“Tell me again why you refuse to put us out of our misery?” I ask in return, trying to remind myself who the fuck I am.

Even though I wonder if it is our misery. I can’t read her, can’t tell if this is affecting her like it is me.

She gives me a cold look. “What do you see happening after we get married, exactly? You think you’ll work a few hours at the club I spent three years building from the ground up, come home and eat a home cooked meal, then fuck your complacent little wife however you want?”

I have no idea what to say, because when she puts it like that, I sound like the biggest douche in the world.

Nesta sees the hesitation in my eyes and rolls hers. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I allow you to disrespect me like that, stronzo.”

“I respect you,” I say immediately, meaning the words.

“Just not enough to value my career.”

“Nesta-”

“Deal with it. If you somehow keep the board from voting you out in the next two weeks and manage to not sleep with me--which is unlikely, considering the way you look at me--the club will be yours.” She takes a step back, steeling her spin. “But I will not.”

I’m conflicted as hell, torn between wondering if she’s just playing me or being sincere.

Apparently done with the verbal smackdown, Nesta spins towards the door.

Hand on the handle, she turns back around and cocks her head. And then she answers the questions I hadn’t realized I’d been too scared to ask.

“No and yes.”

My brows raise. “What?”

“No, it hasn’t all been just me trying to mess with you. Yes, I want you as much as you want me. But I respect myself too much to allow someone who blazes into my life and steals something from me without a care or even a real negotiation to have my body, too.”

She walks out the door, leaving me standing in the living room stunned.

I eventually follower her down to the garage and we leave for the party Rhys is hosting for us downtown. But even though I go through the motions once we arrive, my mind is on the woman next to me the entire night.

I hate admitting it, but she’s right.

I took something that belonged to her, didn’t even question talking to her first, then acted like she was in the wrong for doing whatever she could to get it back.

I’ve said I like how strong and independent she is, but I tried to take that independence and turn her into something else. I bulldozed my way into her life, then acted like I was the one inconvenienced by it.

And seriously, why am I even fighting for this place? Yeah, I like it and think it’s unique, but the place is above board. Which to me translates as boring.

The past two weeks, I’ve had to go to investment meetings, deal with sending out the nightly invitations for entrance, and plan events for upcoming holidays. Things I never do with my other properties.

I hate managing things--I hire people to do that kind of thing for me. But I know I can’t hire someone, because who the hell besides my fiancé would do the job right?

No one.

I realize that on the drive home, and it gets me thinking. By the time we’re inside the apartment, I’m already mentally finalizing the details.

I tell her I have to take care of something, go to my office, and close the door.

Then I pull up the marriage contract, along with the deed to Sera, and hit print.

~Nesta~

A week after our engagement party, I realized I’ve started to lose hope.

Cassian’s managed to wrangle or bribe or threaten the board into not voting him out, and the employees have stopped calling me to ask when I’m coming back. He hasn’t touched me or tried to seduce me in six days--probably a record for him--and I start to feel like I’ve lost.

My club will be his in a week, and after we’re married, only him signing the deed over will get it back. Something that will never happen, considering it’d be a serious hit to his pride to do something as weak as give me what’s rightfully mine.

My club will be his, but like I said, I won’t.

Which honestly is just as upsetting.

Even though he’s a stubborn, boneheaded stronzo with a big enough ego for us both, it’s hard for me to overlook the moments of the past three weeks that haven’t revolved around Sera.

Little moments that have made it harder for me to pull away from him.

He’s made me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met, whether with his foul sense of humor or stories about his violent, wild childhood. He stopped leaving the toilet seat up when I pointed it out. He hasn’t said a word about me ordering take-out all the time or working in bed while he tries to sleep.

He even dealt with one of Alexei’s buyers for me when they tried to renegotiate the price originally agreed upon.

And he hasn’t really pressed the celibacy thing. Sure, he’s complained about it enough for me to want to smack him, but I don’t know any other Made Men, Russian or Italian, that would’ve respected my wish after how much I’ve teased him.

If he would just-

I cut that train of thought off and focus on the report in front of me, because at this point, it’s obvious he won’t.

I sip my wine, which is starting to grow on me, and look over shipment records from one of Alexei’s yards, flagging crates that need to be smuggled instead of brought in through the main channels. Repressing a groan at the thought, I realize I’ll have to go down one night this week and make sure they arrive without problem.

I take another long pull from my glass.

“Drinking to forget?” Cassian asks, leaning in the doorway of the bedroom and looking me over.

I shrug, not much in the mood for banter.

“I got you something.”

Sighing, I reply, “Yeah, me too. It’s on the nightstand.”

His brow furrows as he walks over and picks up the ring box, opening it to look at the titanium band inside.

Just another symbol of our lifelong, happy, sexless marriage.

He puts the ring back in the box and extends a hand. “It isn’t a ring.”

“What is it?”

“Get your ass out of bed and find out.”

I would, except I don’t want to. And I don’t really want whatever stupid, materialistic thing he’s bought me-

He closes my laptop and pulls the cover back, ducking when I swing a fist towards his head. “Violent little wolf,” he teases.

“Stop calling me that,” I demand, trying in vain to keep the blanket on me so he can’t tell I’m not wearing anything underneath the t-shirt I stole from him.

He pauses, sighs, and scoops me up, blanket and all. “I love watching you fight how much you love me calling you that.”

“I don’t have to fight anything except he overwhelming urge to smack you.”

Cassian just huffs, walking us out of the room, through the living room, and into his office. Then he puts me down, smacks my butt to get me moving, and grunts when I elbow him in the ribs.

“Maybe this will fix your bad mood,” he mutters, flipping the light switch on and bathing the office in golden light.

I take an involuntary step forward, eyebrows going high on my forehead.

I’ve only been in here once before, just long enough to notice the obnoxiously big desk and wall of windows behind it. I’d taken in the black leather couch and wing-backed chairs, determined it was a typical male office for a typical male, and vowed to work somewhere else.

But that was a while ago, and it’s obvious he’s done some home improvement.

There are decidedly now two desks in the corners near the windows, angled in to the middle of the room where two cream-colored leather chairs sit. The desks are identical, mahogany and classic without being ostentatious.

A rug covers the hardwood floors, a deep maroon color that matches small details throughout the room.

It’s beautiful.

Cassian leads me with his hands on my shoulders to one of the desks, and I let him guide me around to the chair and push me down in the soft leather.

I look up to ask him what this is about, but he jerks his chin to the desk where to two papers lie.

One is the deed to Sera.

A rush of surprise goes through me as I see he’s transferred the building back over to me, even going so far as to deem the process irreversible. It’s signed and dated a week ago, the night of our engagement party.

My eyes are shiny as I look at the other document and read through it.

“What is this?”

“A partnership, of sorts,” Cassian explains, leaning a hip on the- my desk like he did in his Capo’s office. “You’re now a partner at my businesses, and if you sign, I’ll be yours.”

My eyes find his, and I see that he’s serious but still choke out, “What?”

He smiles and shrugs, like signing over half of your life’s work is easy. “You had me pegged when you first saw me and figured out I’m a fighter. I hate everything about running a business except the in-person negotiating and knitty gritty shit. It’s boring to me, and while I can do it, I’m not nearly as good at it as you are.”

“Cassian-”

“So run them both. I’ll do the day to day shit I know you hate, and you’ll do the rest.”

I can’t hardly process what he’s saying.

“What if we disagree?” It’s a valid question, considering we’ve basically been fighting the entire time we’ve been engaged.

“We talk about it and try to figure it out. And if we can’t, the original owner has the final call and veto power in all situations.” His eyes say he knows how important it is to me as he says, “You’ll still be in control of your property, and I’ll still be in control of mine.”

I don’t know why I’m still asking questions, because it sounds great, but there’s one more thing I want to know.

“Why?”

He sighs, sitting on the desk fully and looking down at me with open, honest eyes. “Because I’m tired of doing this shit alone. I’m tired of going to work and dealing with every single thing and then coming home and having no one who understands.”

He looks out the window, shoulders tight. “I thought you’d be like my friends’ wives, which is why I was such an ass. I thought you’d be just another thing for me to take care of, and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to realize you could be my partner, not just my wife.”

His eyes are back on mine, the heat in them making my heart pound. “I’m sorry, Nesta. I’m sorry I stole Sera in the first place, then refused to hear you out and give it back. I have a tendency to be a little stubborn.”

My lips twitch, and his eyes soften at the sight.

“But what you said about respecting yourself stuck. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t respect you, because I do. You’re smarter than me, cool when I’m rash, and have the mind for business I never have.” He smiles softly. “I know you’re just as alone as me, and just as tired of it. So say yes.”

I feel a smile on my face as I get to my feet, moving to stand between his thighs. “Are you just doing this so I’ll sleep with you?”

He sighs, dropping his head in shame to rest against my chest. “You caught me.”

My arms wrap around his shoulders, his going around my waist, and I use the opportunity to play in his hair. It’s so soft and curly, and he makes a content sound as I run my hands through it.

“Are you saying yes, little wolf?” he murmurs against my collarbone, dropping his head to rub his face across my breasts.

I roll and tug his hair to keep the randy bastard away. “Yes, pervert, I’m saying yes.”

Cassian smiles a big, goofy smile so ridiculously charming I lean in and kiss him.

His hands lock at my waist, resting on the curve of my back, and for a moment, he just lets me kiss him.

It isn’t our first kiss by any means, but it’s the first one where neither of us have ulterior motives, so I take my time.

I kiss his top lip, his bottom lip. Find I like them both equally.

My hands work across his shoulders, the thick muscles contracting under my hands, and I sigh his name.

Cassian’s hands fist in the fabric of my pajamas--which happen to still be his shirt--and draws me closer. He kisses my neck, inhaling deeply.

“You smell so fucking good,” he mutters, biting down softly and making me gasp. “It drives me crazy.”

His hands slip to the back of my thighs, then I’m on his lap, knees on the desk next to his hips. “You drive me crazy,” he clarifies.

He kisses me again, hands sliding up my thighs to my ass to grind me against him. Callouses scrape against my skin as he sweeps the shirt off and tosses it behind me.

“Shit,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to take me in.

The fact that he’s still fully dressed while I’m in nothing but my underwear makes me feel even more exposed, doing strange things to my mind. I start unbuttoning his shirt while he kisses down my chest.

He teases one with his hand while he takes the other in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the peak. I squirm, pressing my hips more fully against is, but he holds me still, kissing and teasing me until I can’t take it anymore.

“Cassian,” I murmur, tugging his hair to pull his gaze to mine. “Thank you for the desk. I love it.”

His brows furrow, and I can see him start to think about how much I’ve teased him, but before he can worry that’s what I’m doing, I whisper, “Now fuck me on it. Please.”

A muscle in his jaw flickers, and his fingers dig into the flesh of my hips.

Before I can say another word, he stands and spins us around, sliding me on the desk. He holds my thighs around his hips, and then an idea seems to dawn.

“Wait right here.”

“Seriously?” I ask, even though he’s already half-way out of the room.

“Don’t you dare fucking move!” is the shouted response.

I roll my eyes, but he’s back quickly, holding the red stilettos I wore to our engagement party. I howl with laughter, and a faint blush colors his cheeks, but he stays firm in his desire and puts them on the floor beside my feet.

Then he leans against the window and watches while I slip them on.

His golden eyes blaze as I lean back on my elbows and slowly spread my thighs, in nothing but lace panties and heels.

“I’ll buy you all the desks you want, if you sit on them like that.”

Laughter bubbles out of me, and he’s suddenly on me, leaning over me to kiss me in a frenzy.

I rip his shirt open, and he doesn’t even break the kiss as he throws it to the floor. I hear the telltale clink of a belt, and then he stands up to slide my panties down, grab my legs, and guide them up.

I feel him brush over the center of me, instinctively lifting my hips to give him a better angle.

But he doesn’t give me what I want.

Cassian just stands there, gaze gliding from the hells on his shoulders to the apex of my thighs.

“Hold that thought,” he mutters, dropping to his knees and putting his mouth on me before I can even blink.

My back leaves the desk, a gasp escaping me.

“Cassian.”

“I want you to come on my tongue, then you get to come on my cock.”

“Cassian.”

He hums, the sensation sending shivers down my spin. He kisses me like he’s doing it for him, not me, mouth on every part of me it can reach.

I can see the lines of his tattoos on his shoulders, the top of his curly hair. It’s too much to handle, so I just lay back down on the desk and throw my hands above my head to hold on to the edge of the desk.

The only time he stops is to tell me things that apparently can’t wait five minutes, but I don’t even care because every word out of that sinful mouth makes me burn hotter.

“Come for me,” he demands breathlessly a few minutes later.

“Don’t boss me around,” I groan, even as I do exactly what he wants.

He lets me ride it out, dropping kisses to my thighs and stomach and hips.

As soon as I catch my breath, he’s on his feet, putting me in the exact position I was in earlier.

And then he’s pushing inside me, and I honestly almost come again from the feel alone. “Thank God,” I groan, the past three reminding me of the misery teasing him put me through.

“Fucking hell, you’re perfect.”

Hands on my thighs, he holds me in place as he starts to move. But as he picks up speed, going harder with each thrust, his hands have to slip to my thighs to keep me still.

I say his name, sounding like I’m begging him for something, and he groans. His head’s thrown back, bare skin shining and making him look likesome sort of beautiful devil.

“Hurry up, little wolf,” he almost pleads.

The sound of that stupid fucking nickname does me in, and I come with a loud moan. I would’ve kicked him in the head if he hadn’t immediately dropped down on top of me to kiss me without abandon.

His hips still but he keeps kissing me until he has to break for air.

I’m boneless and limp beneath him, and he looks me over with male satisfaction.

Then his mouth drops open, betrayal in his eyes, and he says, “I just realized you didn’t speak even French! All these weeks of me fucking fantasizing about that... well, I guess we’ll just have to do it again.”

“Accorde moi un instant,” I pant in French, asking for a moment.

He grins down at me. “Take your time. We have a lifetime.”

My lips twitch, and I don’t stifle the urge to smile.

I’m about to say something, but then his expression turns serious. “You realize I have to fuck you on my desk now. Equality and whatnot.”

I laugh and pull his mouth to mine. “As long as you know I’m still not giving you my side of the bed.”

He tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth. “We can share.”

~

We get married seven days later, surrounded by a crowd of family, dirty politicians, thieves, drug and arms dealers, and friends.

In the past week, we’ve solidified our business model to a thing of perfection. I handle public relations, real estate and development, and negotiations for the shipping business. Cassian handles both the Bratva and Cosa Nostra soldiers in New York, training new recruits, drug distribution, and negotiations for the arms business.

Basically, I do what I’m good at, and he does what he’s good at.

I know it’s ridiculous to trust someone with half my business after only a month of knowing them, but like Cassian said, I was tired of doing this shit alone.

I’d been dreading the future, dreading taking over and doing everything myself. And now I don’t have to.

I have him to lean on, him to trust.

Looking up, I notice him watching me as we dance, not at all paying attention to the crowd. “What are you thinking about, little wolf?”

“I’m thinking how I thought of this marriage as nothing but an alliance at first. I guess it still is that, but... it’s also more.” He spins us around to the music, watching me with a knowing expression. “You’re more to me than that. And I’m... I’m happy. Working with you and the thought of our future makes me happy.”

He smiles. 

“You love me,” he states with quiet confidence. 

My heart starts pounding, because I’ve never told a living person that before. 

But it’s never been true before, and it is now, so I respond steadily, “I do.”

“I love you, too, Nesta Orlov. Have since the moment I saw you.” He sounds so relaxed about it, the words falling from his lips so easily.

“Doesn’t it scare you?” I ask, not understanding how he’s the calm one all of a sudden. 

“Anything you love something, there’s the risk you could lose it or it could hurt you.” Cassian brushes a thumb over my cheek. “But I could never be scared to love you.”

I shake my head and start to say something, but he cuts me off. 

“Every morning, when you wake up, there’s this little moment where you look around, confused. And then you look at me, and that hesitation in your eyes just... melts.” He dips me, wrapping his arms tight around me. “You look at me like you trust me, and love me, and want me.”

He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “That look is worth every risk and hardship and whatever else loving someone entails.”

I kiss him back as he brings us to standing. “Italians are such saps.”

He shows off the smile I’ve realized he only gives me, and I say the words I know he needs to hear just as badly as I did. “I love you, Cassian. You’re worth the risk, too.”

______________________________________________________

THANK U FOR READINGGG soft ending for the win

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acotar #acosf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #nessian archeron

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

It's Delicate: Part III

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 3.9

Author’s Note: Here's Part 3!! This was super difficult for me to get out, but I think I'm happy with it. I rewrote it like 3 or 4 times

It's Delicate: Part III

Spencer notices everything. He’s been trained to notice the slightest change in his environment. He supposes that his profiler training has helped him be more comfortable in social situations. But still, Spencer feels like a fish out of water as he pushes the door to the bookstore open. He knows he should feel at home when he’s in a bookstore, but his heart seems to be racing. Spencer tries to quiet his nerves before he can feel himself running away.

Thinking that it might be a good idea to distract himself, Spencer walks over to the bookshelf filled with books from the floor to the ceiling. He runs his fingers along the spine of the books. Some are old and used, and others are well cared for with their enabled and embossed writing on the spines. He recognizes some titles, but others aren’t too familiar. There’s a whole world of books out there that Spencer has yet to explore. There’s a couple other patrons in the store, an older woman who sits on the soft rocking chair in the back corner and a young woman who already has a pile of books tucked under her arms.

Looking around, Spencer walks towards the back of the store where a glowing sign directs him to the restroom. He goes into the Men’s Room and locks the door behind him. Spencer looks at his reflection in the mirror. He wouldn’t consider himself a vain man, nor would he consider himself aloof about his appearance. He’s very much aware of the deep lines that collect around his eyes and the dark bags underneath. Spencer runs his fingers through his hair, wondering if he should have gotten a haircut. He likes the way his longer hair looks. It took so long after getting released from prison to get his curls back. His hair is the one part of his physical appearance that Spencer can say he likes; the rest he’s a little less than indifferent about on a good day.

Spencer shuts the light off in the bathroom and heads back to the front of the store. He approaches the store clerk, who sits behind the counter. She’s talking with the young woman who had the pile of books tucked under her arms. Spencer looks around the store, trying to find a sign for where the book club meets. He realizes that he doesn’t even know what Y/N looks like. He decides to take out his phone to text Y/N that he’s here. Spencer walks to the short stories section of the store and looks for the “P”s. Once he finds the book he’s looking for he takes a photo and attaches it to the message.

Spencer: How have I not discovered this place sooner??

He doesn’t expect for Y/N to text him back right away, so he tucks his phone back into his pocket. Spencer walks to the front of the store. The display highlights the books of the month with different authors, genres, and themes. It’s a quaint little store and Spencer wonders why he put off visiting so long. The young woman finishes with the clerk and brushes past Spencer, her face buried in her phone. Spencer walks towards the shelves of True Crime books. He sees Rossi’s latest release about the Golden State Killer. Before Spencer can pick up the book, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

Y/N: Ooooh a man after my own heart :) I’m guessing you’re here too

Spencer: Yes...I just realized I don’t know what you look like?

Y/N: Well, I guess that means you have to find me

Spencer looks around at the patrons in the store. The older woman and the younger woman seem like the only logical candidates. The young woman doesn’t look up when Spencer brushes past, her attention is intently focused on the book across her lap, while the older woman swipes on her e-reader.

Spencer: You know I could just call you and your phone would ring

Y/N: That’s like cheating

Y/N: Turn around

Spencer turns around and is greeted by the young woman who brushed past him before. She smiles up at him and Spencer can’t help but grin back at her. He didn’t really give much thought to what Y/N looks like, and he can only hope that she didn’t think too much about him in that way. Spencer has to stop himself from that spiral, and remind himself that it’s not a date.

“You’re Y/N?” Spencer asks, hoping that he doesn’t sound too nervous.

“Yes, and I really hope you’re Spencer,” she says, “you’re nothing like I pictured,”

Spencer’s face must have shown his shock because Y/N’s hand comes up to gently touch his upper arm in an attempt to quell his worry.

“No, nothing bad, Spencer. You just text like a grandpa so I figured you were a lonely old man. I’m just surprised that you’re pretty...young is all,” Y/N finishes her voice climbing up a couple of scales making her nerves evident.

Spencer nods in agreement, used to people thinking he’s older than he actually is his entire life. He supposes that’s because of his intelligence coupled with his social ineptitude.

“Well, judging by your texting, I predicted that you would be around my age, or younger,” Spencer says he’s always had difficulties keeping conversations going, yet right now his mind is swimming of different things he can tell Y/N.

“So you ready for your first Book Buddy meeting?” Y/N asks. The corners of her mouth turn upwards in a playful smile. Spencer likes her smile and grows disappointed that the only time he’ll be able to see it is when they meet together. As much as he is technology adverse, he wouldn’t mind being able to see her smile through her emojis and snarky messages.

“I’m still not too sure what we’re supposed to do, but at least I’ve got you to show me,”

“Come on Book Buddy virgin,” Y/N says winking at Spencer as she walks past him to the staircase that leads to the store’s basement.

Spencer tries to ignore her comment, but even with his brain power he can’t stop his ears from turning pink. He’s always blushing around people who listen to him, especially when those people are so enthralling to watch.

In the basement, there’s shelves and shelves of books lining the walls. A couple of couches and sofas are tucked in the corner with a table and lamp. The soft light is warm and inviting. Spencer’s eyes can’t help but to scan the various titles in the collection. Y/N flops down on the couch and taps the seat, signalling for Spencer to sit next to her.

Sitting down next to her, Spencer wonders how much space he should put between them. He doesn’t want to sit so close and have her think he’s only here to make a pass at her. Nor does he want to sit so far away, because the scent of her peppermint and eucalyptus perfume threatens to mesmerize him.

Y/N brushes her hair from her face with her right hand, that’s adorned with a ring and a couple gold bracelets. She looks over at Spencer apprehensively and he tries to give her a comforting smile back, but he’s afraid that he just looks awkward. He suddenly is very aware that his breath tastes like stale coffee and his hair is wild, pointing out in several directions.

“So Spencer,” Y/N says, “usually we meet in a big group to do these Book Clubs, but this year the store decided to do this Book Buddy thing. Reading and picking out books for someone can be a very personal thing, so I’d like to get to know you a little bit better if that’s alright?”

Spencer’s eyes steady the woman before him. She looks over at him, her eyes never breaking from his. Psychology shows that holding eye contact is a sign of confidence, for a litany of reasons, Spencer has always had difficulties maintaining eye contact. He sighs loudly. It’s almost a mix between exasperation and confusion. Even though Spencer has spent a good portion of his adult life surrounded by very forward people, he still feels slightly nervous when he comes across those types recreationally. Especially when those types seem to have smiles so contagious that they throw every scientific study on germs out the window.

“You want to know about me?” Spencer repeats. He can feel his ears flush, and is thoroughly reminded that he hardly knows who he is.

“Yes, I want to know all your salacious stories Spencer,” Y/N says with a sly smile.

Spencer chokes out a strained laugh before he tries to think of an answer. He can’t remember the last time someone wanted to get to know him. Or maybe he does, and just wants to pretend that those memories died with her. But he can’t, because they are painful and real.

“I’m an FBI Agent, uh the Behavioral Analysis Unit specifically. We track down serial killers and other time sensitive cases,” Spencer says, used to giving the speech about his job on the rare occasion he does talk to another lonely soul at a random bar in a city.

He looks over at Y/N, ready for the reaction he usually gets. Sometimes it’s pity, other times it’s awe. But it all tastes the same with a shot of whiskey.

“That must be an incredibly exhausting job, Spencer. It takes a special kind of person to do that,”

That’s strange, Spencer thinks. Her words aren’t full of pity or awe, but almost understanding. It’s strange, but Spencer likes strange things, after all.

“It is,” Spencer says. He doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with useless words that he knows are stale and meaningless. Somehow the silence doesn’t feel awkward.

“How long have you been in the FBI?” Y/N asks. She’s curious, but cautious to proceed and Spencer appreciates that.

“Since I was 22. I’m 34. I’ll be 35 soon,” Spencer says, still not fully believing that he’s spent nearly 13 years at the BAU.

“22, that’s a baby. I didn’t think that the FBI would recruit that young,”

Spencer grimaces, realizing that sooner or later this conversation would arise. He figured it would have come up when he got through the books in an hour or two. Spencer hates having to tell people about his intelligence. He never wants to make someone feel inferior about themselves because of his brain chemistry and genetic lottery.

“I’m kinda smart. Technically I’m a genius but I really hate that term. The idea behind intelligence testing has a very sexist and racist background. Besides, I don’t think true intelligence is accurately quantifiable,” Spencer tells her, repeating his speech usually reserved for arrogant detectives.

“That sounds like something a genius would say. You’re a humble genius. That’s a rare breed, Spencer” Y/N says, that contagious smile turning up the corners of her mouth and threatening to take over Spencer’s.

“I think that’s a compliment,” Spencer says “what about you? Tell me about yourself?” Spencer says, trying to remember the points of the conversation books he used to read as a kid in hopes of making a friend.

“Let’s see, you already know the boys. I don’t have any siblings and my mom lives in Florida, so we don’t see each other too often. I’m a Funeral Director in Alexandria, took it over after my dad passed a couple years,” Y/N says.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Spencer responds. Y/N smiles again, clearly a little tense to be talking about a sensitive topic.

“So Second Cat, I take it you’re a Poe fan,” Spencer says, holding to help ease into a more pleasant conversation.

“I like his short stories the best, but Emily Dickinson poetry will always have my heart. There’s something so ordinarily beautiful about the way she writes. She was so brilliant. And her and Susan, that’s a tragic love story,” Y/N finishes. She plays with the hem of her jacket absentmindedly almost like she wants to say something more.

“I first read “The Tell Tale Heart” when I was around 5,” Spencer starts, he rests his elbows on his knees to tell a story and he can’t help but feel a little excited when Y/N leans in a little closer to listen in, “I checked it out from the library and brought it home to read. Now it just so happened that I got a chemistry set. I will not incriminate myself but I may or may not have used the set as the directions intended,” Spencer says, holding up his hands in innocence.

Y/N scams him with a calculated stare, it’s not mean or judgmental, but cautious and careful. It’s like she’s deciding if she can trust him or not. He supposes she does when she winks back and says, “I’m sure that’s true Agent Reid,”

“It’s actually Dr Reid, but I’ll get there another day,” Spencer says quickly, eager to get back to his story, “so the chemistry set had some chemicals, the kind that won’t hurt kids. But I stole some sodium chlorate from the local gardening store and a pack of gummy worms from the Mini-Mart. Then I got back home and took out the chemistry set. I drop some of the sodium chlorate and gummy bears into the test tube and it starts to glow!” Spencer says, his voice gets excited when he remembers the experiment. There’s very few happy moments of his childhood, and this is one.

Y/N, listening to him eagerly, wears an excited expression as Spencer continues with the story. He’s forgotten what it’s like to have someone so interested in what you have to say.

“How does Poe fit in?” Y/N asks. Spencer’s fingers make a “1” as if to tell her to be patient.

“So I do the experiment and there’s pieces of molten gummy worms in my hair and on my clothes, but then I hear my mother walking up the stairs so I panic,” Spencer says, he’s an animated storyteller and Y/N is a captivated audience. He tries to not pay close attention to how her eyes hardly leave his or how they seem to be looking at him with wonder. But it’s hard to ignore that when you’ve never been looked at like that before.

“I scramble into my bed and shove the experiment under the bed, and it’s still smelling like burnt chemicals and gummy worms, mind you. And I pretend to read, but I’m reading The Tell Tale Heart, which you know is about a man who’s trying to cover up a terrible deed but literally shoving it under the floor. You know I think my 5 year old mind exploded that day,” Spencer says, he leans back so his head rests against the wall.

“It must have made quite an impression on you at what 5? How on Earth did you read Edgar Allen Poe at 5 years old? I didn’t read that until like Freshman year of high school,”

“I told you I was kind of smart,” Spencer replies, hoping that it would suffice.

“Yeah, but like a child prodigy that must have been very lonely,” Y/N says in a voice that tells Spencer she knows a thing or two about being intensely lonely.

“No one ever says that,” Spencer says in a hushed tone, “no one ever gets that it’s a lonely thing being a genius,” he finishes, putting air quotes around genius to show his discomfort with the term.

Y/N nods, “I’m not a genius by any means, Spencer, but I was an only kid. Part of me thinks it’s my fate to lonely,”

“I’m an only kid too,” Spencer says, “when I asked my mom why they didn’t have anymore kids she just told me why mess with perfection. I know it was meant to make me feel better, but part of me wonders what it would have been like to have a built in friend,”

“Tell me if I’m overstepping, I tend to do that, but do you want kids?” Y/N asks, she twists a ring that’s wrapped around her finger over and over like it’s a bad habit. She looks at him, expecting an answer, from the corner of her eye.

“I did,” Spencer says in a quiet voice, terrified that he’ll reveal too much to this enticing woman with eyes that never seem to want to look anywhere, but his.

“So did I,” Y/N tells him. Her voice mirrors his in it’s guarded, yet scared to reveal too much tone. Spencer is too busy hiding his own worry to recognize Y/N’s.

“I was thinking,” Spencer starts, determined to end the stale silence that settled between them, “of what book I thought you’d like. It’s actually a personal copy of mine. I had know clue how these things work, but I thought we could write notes in the margins. You know our thoughts and ideas about the book,”

Y/N gazes over at Spencer intently, as if she’s trying to think of how she’ll respond. Spencer notices the way Y/N pauses to think before she speaks, he tries to subdue the profiler training that ebbs to the surface, but he can’t control what his instincts tell him. He knows that Y/N is holding something back, but then again, so is he and who is he to judge.

“You’re okay with writing in a book?” Y/N asks, “I know that could be touchy for some,”

“Most of my books have little writings in the margins. I always thought that a book is a love letter from the author to the reader. You get to see inside their mind and to me that’s incredibly personal,” Spencer says, rubbing his palms that grew sweaty on his pants. It’s useless, because they just slide off.

“Well, you’ve convinced me, I brought a book too, but it doesn’t have notes,” Y/N says, “but if this works out, I’ll do it next time?” Y/N asks him, the hope in her voice apparent.

“I’d love nothing more than that, Y/N,” Spencer says, wanting nothing more than to reach out and brush his fingertips against Y/N’s. Her hand keeps on creeping closer to Spencer’s, he thinks that she’s trying to send him a signal, but Spencer feels too wounded, too raw to take that first big leap.

“So,” Spencer starts, he decides to clasp his hands together to avoid this new predicament, “what book did you decide on?”

“Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, it’s one of the few books that is perfect,” Y/N says, putting emphasis on the “perfect,”. Spencer thinks that he can grow to be eager to wait each week for the hour or so he’s able to watch Y/N speak with such passion and love.

“I’ve heard about, but I generally read technically books and other that it’s mainly just books that aren’t in English,” Spencer tells her, he rummages through his bag, looking for his book for Y/N.

“Close your eyes please,” Spencer says, he hides the book behind his back, he smiles as Y/N’s absurdly contagious smile grows.

“Come on Spencer, I don’t like being teased,” Y/N whines, faux pout and all.

Spencer grabs her hand and guides it to the cover of the book, The Goldfinch. He lets go of her hand; his practically stinging from the way her fingertips pressed up against the back of his hand, even though it was only for a couple of seconds.

“The Goldfinch” Y/N says, “ooh how on Earth did you know I love Donna Tartt?”

“Lucky guess, I suppose,” Spencer says, a surge of confidence bolstering him enough to wink at Y/N.

Spencer watches as Y/N flips through the pages of her book. Spencer read it a couple of weeks ago and loved the way the author intertwined the mystery to create a riveting story. Spencer checks his watch, realizing that nearly two hours have passed since he and Y/N sat on the couch.

Just as Y/N goes to say something, Spencer’s phone rings, ripping him from his modest paradise. He gives Y/N an apologetic look and mouths “work” as he steps away from Y/N.

“Reid,” he says, he forgot to check the caller ID, a little too excited to finish this call and get back to Y/N.

“Is that seriously how you greet your favorite person in the world?” the voice, presumably Garcia asks.

“Garcia,” Spencer says, unable to hold back his slight annoyance.

“I know it’s time off, but I guess like male serial killers don’t respect women, they don’t respect our time off either,” Garcia quips.

“I’ll be there in 20, I’m out and I’ll need to get my go bag,” Spencer tells her, preparing for the inevitable.

“I know exactly where you are, Spencer. A little birdie told me you’d called him in panic. I really hope your lady friend appreciated your lavender shirt,” Garcia says. Spencer can hear the click of keys as she talks.

He rolls his eyes, but knew that this was to be expected, “Later, Garcia,” he says, hanging up the phone call. Spencer walks back over to Y/N, whose face is buried in the book. She twirls a pen in her right hand, like she’s thinking about what she’ll write in the margins.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, but I have to cut this short, work emergency,” he explains to an Y/N understanding Y/N, who nods her head.

“Don’t worry, text me that you got home safe, please,” Y/N tells him, looking up at him with genuine worry in her eyes.

“I promise, Y/N. I’ll see you soon,” Spencer says, grabbing his book and making his way up the stairs. He reaches the top flight when his phone buzzes.

Y/N: I mean it :)

Y/N: It was nice meeting you officially….

Spencer reads over the messages as he walks, replaying the interaction in his head. It’s strange to have someone care if you make it home say. The only people on Earth, besides Spencer’s mother, that care if Spencer makes it home are the people that risk their lives with him as well.

Spencer shoots a quick message back.

Spencer: I promise and I hope you like the book, it’s very special to me.

Y/N: I’m sure I’ll love it! Now go save the world :) :)

Spencer smiles to himself as he reads the message, amazed that her contagious smile can make its way through the string of code from his smartphone. As he drives off, Spencer thinks about the way Y/N actually listens to him or the way her hair sees fall perfectly into place. He thinks about her laugh and the way she almost makes him feel safe in the short time he’s known her.

But all those good thoughts amount to nothing, when the biggest thought on Spencer’s mind revolves around the shiny ring that sits on her left hand on the finger between her pinky and pointer finger.

A wedding ring.

-TAGLIST- (Comment to be added or if I forgot to add you)

@shemarmooresfedora

@april-14-blog

@willowrose99

@calm-and-doctor

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Thank You For Reading

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid x reader series #criminal minds fanfic #it's delicate #spencer reid it's deicate

[mf-despair-queen]

Partners in Crime - Lee Taeyong

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Lee Taeyong/Reader - Mafia AU

Word Count: 17,864

Summary: Y/N meets the man of her dreams one day randomly on the street. Little does she know - he is the boss of a mafia in town. But does she care? No. They were partners in life - and partners in crime. 

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, I am too lazy to put more to this. 

Notes: April Fools - I’m actually posting! I’ve only had this sitting in my drafts completed for over 3 months. Be warned - I didn’t really proofread this. But it’s fine. everything is fine! Enjoy! 

“You should have left while you could…”

“You know that wasn’t a choice.” A hand slid into his.”We are partners in crime after all. If you go down, I’m going down with you. I will follow you to the ends of the earth, and I will never regret it.”

A small smile graced the man’s face, lacing his fingers with yours. With a reassuring squeeze and the click of his gun in his right hand, he glanced to his side. 

“I honestly knew this day was going to come eventually. I knew I would go down one way or another,,” he rasped, tucking the gun once more into the back of his jeans. His eyes locked on yours before continuing, “But I’m glad that I have you by my side.”

You smiled at him before placing a tender kiss to his lips, your free hand carefully placed on his bandaged shoulder. His eyes closed, relishing in the feeling and taste of your lips on his. The screams from outside the building fell on deaf ears. The threats made went unheard. In those ten seconds, it was just the both of you, embraced by the calm emotions shared between your forms. Silent tears slid down your cheeks from fear and sadness, knowing your impending fate, but he wiped them away gently after pulling away. His lips dragged down yours as he backed away solemnly, wishing this wouldn’t be the end.

“I love you,” he mumbled just loud enough to be heard. 

“I love you too,” you repeated, taking his hand and preparing to stand and face the gallows of red and blue lights flashing through broken windows and bent blinds. “I always will, Taeyong.”

“Excuse me!” The young man called, though his calls went unnoticed. Heavy footsteps fell along the concrete as he attempted to catch your retreating figure, clutching the book you dropped while rapidly making your way down the road. When he finally caught up and tapped your shoulder to get your attention, he understood why you ignored his calls. 

With a jump in shock, you turned to the red haired man in awe. Earbuds were tucked deep in your ears, soothing jams filling your mind as you moved. Time stood still when your eyes met his deep brown ones, your heart jumping slightly. Before you stood a handsome man, mid-twenties if you had to guess, with sweet, angelic eyes, fluffy hair draping across his forehead and shielding the small slit in his eyebrow, and the sharpest jaw you had ever encountered. 

He wore a simple red wool shirt that hugged his neck and lean torso, a thin black hoodie and a puffed gray vest that was decorated in red designs. Black jeans hugged his slim waist, a black belt wrapped through the looks, and black vans covered the white socks on his feet. Three sparkling earrings dangled from his left ear, a ring adorning his left helix and one single stud rounded out his jewelry. 

Realizing that all you were doing was staring, the man awkwardly smiling and uttering mumbled words through your music, you tugged the earbuds out. “I’m sorry about that,” you whispered sheepishly. “Music.”

“I get it,” he chuckled deeply. His voice was smooth and sweet, the underlying rasp making your heart jump a second time. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I saw you drop this earlier.”

He extended the book towards you, your eyes widening at his gesture. Carefully, you took the book from him, glancing into your small bag to find it empty. “Oh my god. I didn’t even realize it fell out. Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem at all,” he laughed, tucking his hands in his pockets. “It’s the least I could do to help a beautiful girl.”

A blush spread along your cheeks, a shy smile growing on your lips. Tucking the book safely back into your bag, you glanced at the handsome man. “Well, can I know the name of the lovely gentleman that returned my book and made my trip to the cafe to read not in vain?”

He smiled, extending a hand toward you. “I’m Taeyong.”

You took his hand, finding it warm and soft. “Y/N.”

“It’s a pleasure, Y/N.”

“Same,” you chimed. “Well Taeyong, how can I ever repay you for this?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” he started to say, sealing his lips when you shook your head.

“Please, I insist! I really appreciate what you did. I would have lost it in the middle of the cafe if I found I lost this book. It’s my favorite and it was a gift from my sister,” you confided. “I want to repay you somehow. Please?”

“Well,” he started, rubbing his lips together. His eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a cheshire-like smirk. “You could let me buy you a coffee.”

You giggled at his suggestion, tucking some hair behind your ear. “I’d like that, but only on one condition.”

“Oh?”

“You join me for said coffee?”

Taeyong chuckled, nodding happily. “I’d love that.”

A smile grew on your face, butterflies fluttering rampantly inside your stomach. You could feel a small blush spreading across your cheeks as your looked up at the handsome man. “Great. Shall we get going?”

Taeyong smiled back, his glowing smile infectious. “Lead the way, beautiful,” he uttered. You nodded, turning on your heel and leading him towards your original destination - Haru & Oneday - with Taeyong at your side. His hands were tucked deep in his pockets as you walked, a happy hum coming from the man. “So, tell me about yourself.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “That’s a deep conversation. I hope you know that.”

“I have time.”

A skip inside your chest, a knot of excitement in your gut, a flash of heat across your face despite the chilled weather of December.

“Well…”

The entire afternoon was spent talking, tucked into a small corner of the cafe. The second you arrived, Taeyong asked what you wanted. While he ordered your coffee, you picked a secluded place to talk, knowing the book you planned to read that day would go untouched. You were more interested in the mysterious man that captivated you on the street, kindly returning your lost item. 

And learn about him you did. He was a kind soul, living in the same building as a bunch of friends that he worked with in business. He enjoyed singing and dancing in his free time, spitting a rap that made you laugh and clap in excitement. He liked to cook, but you figured out that he had a massive sweet tooth more than anything from the way he devoured a whole slice of chocolate cake by himself. The smile that lit up his face as he ate the decadent treat made you smile happily. 

You told him your story - where you were from, growing up in Busan, your love for cooking and reading. You even told him about the boring desk job you worked to pay for the small apartment you had. You lived an ordinary, boring life in your opinion, but Taeyong listened intently, taking interest in the little things that made you happy. 

Just as the sun was setting and his phone was ringing, presumably from his friends asking where he had disappeared to, did you agree to wrap up for the day. Taeyong slipped from his seat first, but not before sliding a folded napkin in your direction. 

“I enjoyed spending the day together, Y/N,” he mused, pocketing his hands. “I’m glad I was able to meet you today. It really made my day better. I hope we can do it again sometime.”

He waved before walking off, leaving you to gather your stuff. Just as you were finishing, you glanced at the napkin he left. Your stomach flipped and your heart raced, finding his phone number written on the paper, a cute doodle of himself, and the simple words of Call me? printed underneath. Tucking the napkin in your bag, you left the cafe, thanking the owners on your way out.

It was dark by the time you arrived home, closing the front door with a soft click of the lock. Your shoes were left forgotten in the doorway, headed straight for a shower to wash away the day’ odor. Finishing your nightly routine, you returned to the bag you left on your bed, sitting on the plush mattress. Your fingers tugged out the napkin, your lip tugged between your teeth as you contemplated shortly.

Your fingers moved without much though, grabbing your phone and typing the number into a new contact. The message you sent him was simple.

To: Taeyongie - Hey. This is Y/N. I just wanted to thank you again for today. It was great meeting you and getting to know you. I hope we can do it again sometime. 

His response didn’t take long.

From: Taeyongie - I’m glad you messaged me. I was worried for a bit that I wouldn’t get to hear from you again. 

From: Taeyongie - I’m glad I got to meet you too. You really brightened up my day, so for that, I have to say thank you.

From: Taeyongie - I can’t wait to see you again.

Your heart was aflutter, sinking into your bed and rereading the message a few times. You were glad you decided to brave the cold and travel to your favorite cafe, even if you hadn’t intended to almost lose your book and meet a gorgeous gentleman that seemed to steal your heart from under your nose already. After many failed relationships through school and early adulthood, you didn’t think you’d find someone like him that would sweep you off your feet so easily. 

When your phone buzzed again, making you jump slightly in shock, you reread his last message three times before your eyes grew wide.

From: Taeyongie - Though next time, I hope you’ll allow me to take you out for a proper first date.

Your fingers shook as you tried to type a coherent response, 

To: Taeyongie - I’m looking forward to it.

He really was one of a kind.

~

Nearly four months after meeting Taeyong, you were head over heels for the man. You talked to him daily, waking up to sweet messages wishing you a good day and falling asleep to messages bidding you sweet dreams. You had learned much about the man, finding yourself falling deep into the abyss of his chocolate colored eyes. You were wrapped around his finger, though not in a bad sense. He had stolen your heart, and you were willing to let him keep it.

Every other week, you found yourself going out with the man when you weren’t at your house together. When you chose to stay in, you would be wrapped up on your couch or in your bed watching movies while his fingers ran through your hair soothingly, or the tips of his fingers ghostling along your arms. You’d make dinner together, play games together, and even go out to walk Ruby together when he brought the small dog over for your amusement. You’d occasionally find yourself dancing together around the house, singing whatever song he decided to play for you, but you never once hated these moments. They were some of your favorites.

But he would insist on taking you out to dinner, treating you kindly to a romantic date that consisted of expensive dinners or trips to random places - the arcade and the beach being recurring destinations. He’d never let you pay, sometimes making you wonder how he could afford the expensive meals - he never did clarify what his job was - but you wouldn’t decline the dates if it meant you could see him. After the second date, he would always tentatively kiss you goodnight, the connect short and sweet, leaving you craving more. You never shared more than that - though you wished you did.

Tonight was one of those nights. Taeyong had sent you a sweet morning greeting, telling you that he was going to take you out for dinner that night. He didn’t specify where - only to dress elegantly, finishing with a cheesy remark that you always looked fabulous. He planned to pick you up at six sharp, leaving you the rest of the day to clean around the house and prepare for your fancy date. 

At five, you jumped in a shower, dressing in a lacy set of red lingerie before doing your hair and make up. You picked a sleek black dress from your closet - an expensive present you had gotten from your family one year but never found reason to wear - that would accentuate your curves, but not flaunt you in a promiscuous way. The skirt flared out against your thighs and the top hugged your chest, not being too showy around your cleavage. You wanted to impress the man, not make it seem like a slut. You finished with a pair of low heels and minimal jewelry consisting of earrings and a necklace Taeyong insisted he buy you on your third date.

Exactly at six, he was knocking on your door, holding a bouquet of roses in his hands. He smiled brightly, tilting his head cutely in greeting. The silver earrings swung with the movement, a few loose strands from his slicked back hair flopping loose. He wore a red and black checkered jacket over a black and white checkered button up shirt, tight black jeans with rips in the knees hugging his lean waist. 

“Hey beautiful,” he greeted, extending the flowers towards you. “These are for you.”

“You know you didn’t have to, Tae,” you giggled, taking the flowers from him and relishing in the delicate aroma they offered. “But they are beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I know I didn’t have to but they always make you smile,” he mused with a smile. He watched you rush to put the flowers in a vase before grabbing your purse, locking the door on your way out. His arms wrapped around you, hanging loosely at your side as he stared down at your smiling face. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you murmured with a light blush, running your hands up his arms, resting on his biceps. “You don’t look half bad yourself. Not that it’s hard for you with your face.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he laughed, taking your hand. “Shall we get going? Dinner awaits.”

“Lead the way.”

He led you to a car - which was rare - that took you to your mysterious location. The tall man in the driver’s seat introduced himself as Johnny, giving you both a smile before driving off. Turned out the man was one of Taeyong’s friends that he had told you briefly about before, and he had kindly offered to drive you both seeing as Taeyong didn’t have a license himself. Johnny kept to himself, allowing you to talk freely with Taeyong, the red haired man flirting carelessly the entire time.

You arrived at a tall building, Taeyong chuckling at the confused look on your face when Johnny parked the car and opened Taeyong’s door for him. Taeyong held out a hand to help you from the vehicle, thanking Johnny for the ride. The tall man simply pat his friend on the back and gave him a wink before returning to the car and driving off. Your hand slid back into Taeyong’s as he led you to the doors of the building, the doorman nodding.

“Good evening, Mr. Lee.”

The interaction with the doorman and Taeyong further confused you. This was different than your normal dinner dates where you always had a private room or balcony in the restaurants, servers catering to your every need. He wasn’t leading you into a high class restaurant where he could bypass the line and walk straight to a table without question. You were in a pristine lobby with a fountain and couches, a giant chandelier above your head. 

He led you to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, snickering at your confusion. He didn’t bother to clarify what was going on. He simply ran his thumb over the back of your hand, listening to the music play above you. When the elevator dinged that you were at the top floor, the man led you out wordlessly, digging into his pocket for a set of keys for the door at the end of the hall.

“Where are we?” you finally questioned, watching him unlock the door. 

Taeyong hummed while pushing the door open, allowing you to walk in first. He witnessed you gawking at your new surroundings, the elegant living room of the penthouse you found yourself in leaving you flabbergasted. “Welcome home,” he chimed, shutting the door.

“This is where you live?” you asked, turning to the man. In the time you knew him, he had never once talked about where he lived. You had never seen his house, always spending time together in your tiny, cozy apartment. Now, you were staring at the large living room with multiple plush couches, art lining the walls, and a large kitchen and dining room in the distance. The table was decorated with candles and place settings, a bottle of wine being chilled in a bucket.

“Is it too much?” he asked, pouting slightly. 

“You just never mentioned you live in a penthouse!” you scolded, shoving him lightly before wrapping your arms around him. “But this is breathtaking.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he whispered. “I figured that today is our fifth date, not counting our little cafe rendezvous when we first met, so what better date night than for me to make you dinner in my own home.”

“You’re making dinner?” you chirped, gleefully bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I love your cooking so much.”

“Well, go ahead and get comfortable and I will get cooking.”

You nodded, watching him make his way into the kitchen. He poured you a glass of wine before he started cooking, watching you sink into one of the couches to watch him. He caught you occasionally looking around to take in the impressive surroundings, laughing to himself. He told you that his friends lived in their own apartments in the lower floors, leaving you to wonder what exactly they did to afford this. You didn’t know his exact line of work - he always just said business - but he was obviously successful enough to afford the penthouse of the building.

Taeyong beckoned you over when food was ready, pulling out your chair for you. He poured you more wine before serving you a piping hot bowl of bibimbap. Taking his place beside you with his own glass and bowl, he tilted his glass towards you. “To the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You giggled, flushing brightly and tilting your glass to his. With a clink of cups, you responded, “to the most handsome man in the world.”

The meal was delicious, melting on your tongue. You made small talk as you ate, enjoying Taeyong’s giddy nature from drinking. The man couldn’t hold his alcohol at all, and one sip left him red faced and giggly. You helped him with dishes when you were finished, even though he protested it vehemently, finding yourselves flicking water at each other and blowing bubbles into the air.

You curled up on the couch together for a while before he would have to take you home, Your head on his chest and his fingers running through your hair. The silence was welcoming, the sound of his erratic heartbeat all you needed for comfort. He would sometimes hum a song for you, but mostly you just relaxed in his grasp. It was times like this that you enjoyed the most - being with him made you feel content. 

In your entire life, you never cared for someone as much as you did the red haired man before you. Never in your life did you like someone as much as you did Taeyong. He made you feel loved and cherished. He made you feel beautiful and wanted. 

You wanted nothing more than to be with him forever.

You frowned when he suggested it was time to take you home. Instead of calling Johnny to drive you back, you opted for a late night walk so Taeyong could sober himself up, treating yourselves to some crepes on the way. You walked hand in hand the entire way, the sway between you both making your heart jump in your chest. 

Arriving at your apartment, you sighed under your breath, turning to look at the man. “Thank you for tonight,” you told him, giving his hand a squeeze. “I enjoyed our date. I think this was my favorite date so far.”

“Well, there’s more of these to come,” he chuckled, tugging his lip between his teeth. He stared at you silently, moving his free hand up to your face. His fingers curled against your cheek, smoothing across your skin as you sank into his touch. “Y/N…”

“I should probably go inside-”

He cut you off with a passionate kiss, tugging you into him. Your hand was dropped so he could cup your face in both hands, putting everything he could into the connection. The shock from the initial kiss wore off, your eyes fluttering closed and returning his kiss. It was deeper than any kiss you shared before. His head was tilted and your lips meshed together perfectly. Your hands gripped at his jacket, pushing up into him as much as possible. 

The world around you stopped. It was just you both in that moment, sharing the most amazing kiss you had ever dreamt of. This was what you wanted, this was what you had waited for. The way his lips dragged against yours as he smothered you with his lips left you eager for more. The smack of his lips disconnecting from yours left you gasping for precious air, yet a desire to return your lips to his.

“Be my girlfriend,” he rasped deeply against your lips. 

All you could do was nod in return before he was kissing you again, dropping his hands to your waist to tug you closer. Your hands moved up and around his neck, tangling into his hair, pulling him deeper into you. The kiss intensified, lips speeding up and parting for an entourage of open-mouth kisses to start. Your bodies were flush against one another, heat spreading along your limbs.

The moment was broken from the ring of his phone, the red-haired man pulled back with a scowl. He kept you against him as he fished the phone from his pocket, reading the message he had received. Low strings of curses left his mouth before dropping the phone back into his pants, tilting your head to place a kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to go. Something came up that I need to take care of.”

“Is everything ok?” you wondered, frowning at his for his reaction to the message.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine, I promise. Just some last minute work popped up that I need to help Mark with,” he tried to reassure you. Something was off about his tone, but you nodded at him anyway. He must have caught your uncertainty, pulling you into a light kiss. “I promise it’s nothing to worry about. Now, go inside and I will talk to you tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright, Taeyong,” you whispered, kissing him one last time before backing away to unlock your door. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, blowing you a kiss as he backed away, turning on his heel and stampeding away. 

You watched his form vanish around the corner, tucking yourself into your apartment. Leaning against the door, you let your fingers run along your lips, smiling at the thought of your new boyfriend. The questions you had about his late night business venture were pushed aside for now as you chose to trust the man. You rushed to your room to prepare for sleep, enveloped in happy dreams of the red-haired man.

Outside your building, Taeyong stared up at your window for a moment before a black car pulled up. He quietly filled the backseat, meeting eyes with Johnny and Mark. The blank tint of the windows kept the outside from seeing the gun passed to him by the young lad int he passenger seat, Taeyong checking the clip once over.

“How’d it go?” Johnny questioned cheekily.

“You know the rules,” Taeyong glowered. “Don’t touch my girlfriend and protect her from this shit.”

“What’s going to happen when she finds out?” Mark asked.

“Don’t worry about that. That’s my problem,” Taeyong hummed, tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans. “Focus on this deal for now. I can’t have you distracted if this goes south.”

“Yes sir,” both men spoke, the car going quiet as they advanced towards an abandoned warehouse where their deal was to take place. 

~

One year. 

One year since you started dating the love of your life. Six months in, you had been the one to say it first.

“I love you, Lee Taeyong.”

He didn’t hesitate to repeat the phrase multiple times while placing kiss after kiss to every inch of your face and neck before curling into you and cuddling you tightly. You didn’t regret saying it, especially after he responded the way he did, loving you just as much as you loved him. You knew you wanted to spend your life with this man; you knew he held your heart in the palm of his hand. But you were happier than you had ever been. This was the highest point in your life.

You started spending more time around Taeyong’s massive penthouse on your days off or after work, your routine with Taeyong nothing different than before. Everything just seemed to get better - especially as his friends started to migrate into your life as well. There were twenty boys living in the building that he worked with, but he had a group of eight others that were closest to the man and popped up most often. 

You had met Johnny before when he was your chauffeur for your date, so getting to know the tall American was different. He loved photography and fashion, sometimes spending his time with you on your days off by having mini fashion shows in Taeyong’s penthouse. Taeyong always had a good laugh when he walked in on your faux walking down a runway, planting himself on the couch to watch and take his own pictures.

Taeil was the oldest of the bunch, a quiet man that enjoyed singing with his friends Doyoung and Jungwoo. He was famous in the group for his dad jokes, becoming the butt of many jokes. He also had an equally bad alcohol tolerance to your boyfriend.

Doyoung was a snarky man that loved to pick on Taeyong, but you could tell he cared about him. He had rabbit-like qualities that you found adorable. When Taeyong was busy when you were around, Doyoung would make you delicious meals that left you in a food coma on the couch until Taeyong would return.

Jungwoo was a mischievous little brat, but you always found him to be funny. He whined childishly for attention and played around with the others. He craved long hugs that made Taeyong yell at him because he was taking his girlfriend from him. 

Jaehyun was your workout buddy. The fittest of the bunch, the man with deep dimples had offered to exercise with you when you complained you had gotten lazy in Taeyong’s house. You could never keep up with him or Johnny, who often joined you both in the gym, but having someone there to push you was worth it. 

Yuta had the most infectious smile. He would always play games with you and make you smile. But the thing you did most often was watch soccer together. The man loved the sport, having grown up playing in Japan, so watching games together was always exciting. He got so captivated by them that he wouldn’t realize he was jumping around wildly.

Haechan was a brat, but he was skilled in dances. He had this innate ability to watch a dance on tv and perform it. His time would be split between the main group of nine and the younger boys in the building. Even with his evil personality, you loved the young boy, happily failing by his side when you would dance together.

Mark was probably your favorite. He was the one around most often, caring for you when Taeyong was working. He had quickly grown to be like a little brother that supported you through everything. He told you about his life in Canada while you told him about your life in Korea, sharing the littlest things with each other. He would play the guitar for you in his spare time, often lulling you to sleep with the beautiful melodies.

You didn’t expect to meet such a rowdy bunch, but they made your relationship with Taeyong even sweeter. And though you still often had dates with Taeyong, you also spent a lot of time with the group on outings. Going out for meals or going around the city was more special with your hand clamped in Taeyong’s and the bundle of males running around you.

As much as you have enjoyed your one year anniversary alone with Taeyong on a romantic date, eating an expensive dinner that you knew Taeyong would insist you have and finishing the night together tangled in the sheets, you were glad you went with the current idea. When the group found out that it was your anniversary, they insisted on taking you both out for a good night.

What started with a fun meal of barbeque that they paid for completely, not a single cent paid by you or Taeyong, turned into a drunken mess at a nightclub. Hesitant at first, you barely took a shot or two of soju with the others. Taeyong was wrecked just from those couple shots, beginning to drink more and more. Watching him enjoy himself let you relax, beginning to down your own drinks.

The night slowly became a blur of flashing lights and loud music, but you knew Taeyong was always by your side. Either his hand was in yours or resting somewhere on your body - the small of your back, wrapped around your waist and hugging you to his side, and resting on your thigh as you sat at a booth, drinking and playing games together. 

You danced together, your body rolling against his. He was obviously more skilled than you were, but even in his shrunken state, he led you confidently and naturally, grinding against you eagerly. Your back pressed against his chest as his hands sat on your hips, fingers splayed against bare skin from where you shirt rode up. When you faced him, you arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his fluffy red threads. 

Hot kisses were left on your mouth, your lips left puffy and swollen from the multiple attacks he left on you. You were already warm from the club and the plethora of people around you, but your body was searing against his. Each taunting kiss he gave you, lips parted and tongue slipping into your mouth, left you craving more. Your hands wandering against his form, trailing up and down his arms, let him panting, the man tugging his lip between his teeth.

“We should get out of here…”

That’s all he had to mutter once for you to find yourself escaping the heat of the club and back in Taeyong’s penthouse. It was past midnight when you stumbled through the door together, your lips latched together in a sloppy kiss. Your arms were wrapped weakly around him, trying to kick off your shoes as you pushed into the doorway. Taeyong kicked the door shut with his foot, struggling to lock it and discord his sneakers before entering the house. He couldn’t focus with your lips connected to his, your tongues swirling together eagerly between your cheeks.

He picked you up with easy, a squeal of shock lost to his throat. His steps were uneven as he moved forward, supporting you with one hand on your ass, the other following the wall to guide him through the darkness. The kiss broke when he tripped over the rug and bumped into a table, a bruise bound to form on his knee. Low curses left his lips, the man rushing into the bedroom. 

The door slammed shut behind you, Taeyong turning to trap you against the sealed entryway. His lips found home once more on your own, igniting another fiery kiss between you. You happily returned it, tasting the vast amounts of alcohol that lingered on his taste buds. A subtle swipe of his tongue against your lips told you to part them and let him inside, which you willingly complied. The taste of the bitter liquid from the evening was heavy on his tongue as it roamed your cheeks.

Your moans were muffled, mind foggy in the midst of the kiss. It didn’t occur to you that his hands were traveling up your sides, pushing at the bottom of your shirt until it was resting underneath your breasts. The skim of the pads of his thumbs against your sides and ribs sent shivers up your spine, more mewls of delight lost to the sensual lip lock. Taeyong pushed harder against your, his hips rutting against your clothed core, both sets of jeans blocking what you truly desired in that moment. His head tilted to deepen the kiss, letting out a groan of his own.

The first time you separated, chests heaving for precious amounts of air, he uttered two short words. 

“May I?” 

You knew what he wanted, even in the blur of words that met your ears. You nodded at him, arching off the door long enough for him to rid you of your top, the cotton fabric strewn across the floor carelessly. Lips back to yours for a single second before disappearing south, searing hot kisses leaving a wet trail along your neck and clavicle. Your swollen lips parted with delicious moans for him to savor, trembling fingers lacing through his locks on the back of his head. 

His teeth toyed with the strap on your left shoulder first, playfully nipping at your skin in his futile attempts to drag the strap down your arm. Your mewls of delight mixed with short giggles before taking the opportunity to rid yourself of the pesky garment. Taeyong pouted without a doubt - he always hated when you did it for him - but didn’t bother to argue. 

His lips found home on your bare chest, lips wrapping around the pert nipple on your right breast. A content sigh left your mouth, back arching into his touch. Your hands twisted through his red strands, giving him a tug whenever he found a sensitive spot on your chest. You tried to watch him through the haze, but your eyes were blurring too much. 

Was it the alcohol still present, slowly wearing off? Or, was it the pleasure of him suckling at your nipples, giving them short tugs with his teeth, and pulling away with short pops that rang in your ears?

You didn’t know, nor did you care. You were in heaven.

Taeyong spent several long minutes pleasuring your chest, red marks lingering on the mounds and between them when he swaps between them on occasion. With each kiss he left, and each bite he left, his hands holding you up against the wall grabbed at your backside. His hips ground against yours, becoming more frequent and harder against your covered core. The bulge in his tight jeans was obvious, growing more prevelant by the second. His cock was stiff, and his actions just solidified what he wanted.

Placing you on unsteady legs, his nimble fingers made quick work of your pants, the man kneeling long enough to tug them down your legs. Your panties came with, leaving you naked before his eyes. The red head toppled slightly, nearly falling on his ass in his tipsy state. A mixture of the alcohol and his awe at your body left him speechless and wobbly, slowly standing while working at his own jeans.

Your hands were quick to replace his, struggling to undo the button of his dark skinny jeans. Taeyong had to place a hand on the wall to keep himself upright, his other hand massaging his face a few times before pushing his hair back. Low groans and swears escaped, staring down at you when you grew frustrated and collapsed to your knees, stumbling just as he had. 

“Dammit,” you growled, tugging angrily at the jeans when they wouldn’t unbutton. Taeyong chuckled deeply.

“Need a hand?”

“No. Fuck you. I can do it myself.”

The man let out a hefty chortle at your frustration, repaying you for what you did earlier. His fingers made quick work of his own jeans, the button unsnapping and zipper slowly lowered before your eyes. With a short huff, you tugged the dark denim down his legs, leaving them around his ankles so you could rub at his covered cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned loudly. The hand he had on the wall slowly curled into a fist, pounding against the wall lightly. You smirked up at him, biting at your lip. He rarely cursed, but when he did, you knew he meant business. “Don’t tease me.”

You clicked your tongue at him as you tugged his boxers down, letting him spring free. The fabric was left to pool at his feet, you focus turning to the large cock staring straight at your face. It twitched with anticipation, the tip red, swollen and oozing precum. It pulsed as your fingers grazed along the shaft. The sight made your mouth water, tongue tracing your lips slowly.

Taeyong’s fist pounded harder to the wall, a loud grunt exhaled when he felt your lips on the tip just before taking the entire length between your cheeks. He struggled to focus, blinking repeatedly to clear his vision to watch you bobbing your head along his cock. Your hand gripped the base firmly, pumping it in time with your bobs. Your tongue trailed along the underside of his shaft as you moved, the tip traveling along the pulsing vein that protruded out. Your other hand toyed with his balls, juggling them between your fingers and giving them light squeezes.

“Shit,” he cursed again, earning a small smile from you. Taeyong leaned forward, placing his head against the wall, heavier pants starting to leave his lips. He could barely form words with the overwhelming ecstasy of your mouth around his cock. “Please, baby. Give me more.”

You kept your motion steady, not giving into his plea entirely. You wanted to savor the taste of his salty sweetness that seeped onto your tongue, overriding the bitter drink from the early evening. Taeyong didn’t seem pleased; his hand gripped at the hair on the back of your head, his hips jutting forward suddenly. He halted when you gagged once, knowing his abrasive stunt was a bit much.

When you were situated, stilling your movements but keeping his cock resting on your tongue, he thrust forward against. He leveraged the hold he had on your hair to push you forward, your nose meeting his pelvis. His cock met the back of your throat repeatedly as his timed thrusts met your forced head bobs, a slobbering wet gurgle of him fucking your mouth filling the air. Taeyong moaned loudly, unable to keep his voice down - not that he needed to. 

He didn’t stop until he was groaning loudly, his wild thrusts that had grown sloppy ceasing and he was spilling his salty seed down your throat, the white ribbons of cum filling your cheeks and swallowed happily. He pulled out at the end, hand wrapping around the base and giving it a few final pumps. The last few shots landed on your face and chest, your tongue extended to try and capture them. You let out a hearty giggle, tracing the cum along your face and chest with a finger.

Taeyong huffed when he watched you suck the finger clean. The man, fed up of waiting, hoisted you up by the hand before lifting you bridal and turning towards the bed. With the fabric still bundled around his ankles, he stumbled forward, kicking anxiously at them to discard. 

You were thrown careless on the bed with a light yelp and laugh, Taeyong pouncing on top of your bare form. His lips instantly met yours, furious open mouth kisses shared. Your bodies were grinding against each other rapidly, hands eagerly tracing each other’s forms. Your legs twisted together, feet playfully nuzzling against one another. Your arms looped around Taeyong’s neck, fingers curling through his tangled red hair. 

Taeyong pulled away, glancing between your forms long enough to align himself with your core, sheathing himself inside you with one quick thrust. Your eyes closed, moaning and groaning from his size. He wasn’t the largest man out there, but it never ceased to amaze you whenever you were intimate how well he could fill your pussy up. The man stilled, peppering your face with kisses and uttering sweet nothings until you gave him the signature tap on the shoulder to let him know he could continue.

His thursts always started slow, pulling back until he was about to leave you empty and then pushing back in completely. The pace would be slow and steady, soft moans leaving you both. But as time went on, he would gain momentum, hips starting to snap into yours hastily until he was slamming into you, pressing you into the mattress. The sound of clapping skin grew louder, the moans became screams of his name, and your body trembled under his. 

You were quick to orgasm, feeling his thick cock sliding in and out of your tight core quickly, pounding at you quickly. The tip pushed against your g-spot every time he pushed into you, earning himself a breathy pant from below him. Your walls would hug around him, making it harder for him to concentrate on his thrusts. It grew worse when he felt you shudder, back arching and toes curling. Your pussy squeezed him, spilling around his thick shaft and soaking it completely. 

Taeyong stopped moving, not wanting to fill you up so soon, watching your twitching form relax after a minute. Leaning back on his knees between your legs, he pulled himself out, satisfied at how wet his shaft was. HIs fingers toyed with your sensitive entrance for a moment, hearing you groan and watching you twist in subtle discomfort.

He placed a longing kiss on your lips before turning you on your side, laying behind you. His fingers ran along your sides soothingly, drawing different shapes on your stomach and chest. He carefully draped your leg back over his hips, jutting his forward to slide himself between your pussy lips. A low mewl escaped, turning your head back to him to share a loving kiss just as he pushed into you once more.

His hand gripped at your breast, lips pressed to your shoulder. His thrusts picked up steadily, pushing himself deeply into you from behind. The new angle allowed him to hit deeper inside you, his already moist length sliding with ease between your tight walls. He collided with your backside with each thrust, groaning happily with every smack he heard. The bed squeaked with his quick thrusts, jostling with the movements of your bodies. 

Despite his hard and fast repetition of his cock pushing into you, his lips placed kisses to your ear. You could hear his pants and low grunts in the buzz of your ecstasy, enjoying the way he felt thrusting into you furiously. Every slam into you made your head spin, the feeling of his length sliding against your walls causing your heart to beat faster. The way his lips felt against the side of your head at the same time that his cock pushed deeping to and pressed against the most sensitive spot to make you quiver was causing your stomach to burn.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured into your ear softly, nipping at your earlobe. When you moaned in response, his lips curled upwards. His hand grasped tighter to your breast, burrowing his face into you. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I-I love…” you started, panting quickly. 

Taeyong knew what you wanted to say. It was clear. He also knew that you were close again - because so was he. His thrusts were growing sloppy and he could feel your walls tightening sporadically around him. You were both chasing the final high of the night as exhaustion was becoming apparent.

He pulled out, leaving you whining and empty. It wasn’t for long because he pushed you once more on to your back, sliding into you quickly and roughly. Every time, Taeyong had a thing for finishing in a way where he could see your face. He loved to watch you ascend into heaven, feeling blissful from sex. He leaned on his knees between your legs, one hand pushing your leg back and resting on the back of your thigh so your foot rested on his shoulder, and the other pushing your other leg out to spread you wide for him. His eyes were cast onto you body, swapping between your breasts bouncing with his quick snaps, to your heavenly face, swollen lips parted with moans.

“Come on,” he whispered, feeling the sweat running down his brow. “Cum for me, baby,” he pleaded. Rule number one with Taeyong: he always wanted to make sure you were pleased before he was. He always made sure to make you cum before him, and if he didn’t he would work extra hard to please you. It wasn’t uncommon for him to beg for you to snap under him.

“Tae…”

“I know baby,” he let out, heaving for air. “Come on. We’re almost there. Just let it go for me.”

“I love you…”

He grit his teeth and dove in for one last kiss, both of you breaking at the same time. Your bodies trembled together, your juices spilling around his length and his thick seed filling your core completely. Your inner walls were painted white by the strings he spewed, letting them decorate your core in warm stickiness. You moaned into his kiss, too weak to hug him close. 

You were limp when he pulled out, half-lidded eyes watching the satisfied man. His fingers danced along your core, spreading your pussy lips to watch your combined juices trying to escape. One slick finger carefully pushed the juices back in, causing you to shutter and mewl his name. Content with the pleasure, he collapsed beside you, two sweaty bodies sticking to his silk sheets. A thin blanket was dragged over your bodies, one of his arms draping across your stomach. You curled into his side, letting out a long breath.

“I love you so much,” you whispered again. Taeyong didn’t reply, making you glance up at him. “Taeyong?”

“Move in with me,” he whispered. you almost felt like you didn’t hear him right. You blinked a few times before sitting up slowly, groaning in pain. You hugged the blanket to your chest, turning to the man. 

“What?”

“Move in with me,” he repeated, louder this time. “You’re already here all the time, and you shouldn’t have to be paying for the dingy apartment. I love you so much, baby, and I want you to live with me.”

The room grew quiet, the air thick. You repeated the offer in your mind. The alcohol had worn off at this point, so there was little chance that he wasn’t thinking straight. Taeyong stared at you silently as you thought, biting at his lip. Only when you carefully took his hand in yours and placed them laced together in your lap did he let out the breath he had been holding. 

“I will,” you mumbled before turning to him and kissing him passionately. “I will, Taeyong. I love you so much. I will move in with you.”

“Wonderful,” he whispered, kissing you once more. “You just made a man very happy today.”

“Well, you always make me happy,” you told him back.

“Yeah. I always will…”

~

You awoke to the sunlight streaming through a small crack in the curtains, the light hitting your face directly. A low groan left your lips as you turned over, finding the bed cold and empty beside you. Since moving in with Taeyong, you had become accustomed to the morning he was gone when you woke up. He had work to do, and he hated to disturb you when he left. 

When your eyes fell on a small box on your side tab and a folded note, you smiled. Carefully sitting up, blanket to your chest, you grabbed the two items, looking at the note first. It was short:

A beautiful present for a beautiful woman. I will be home for dinner, so I will see you then. I love you. Have a wonderful day babe.

You shook your head, looking into the box. It was a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings that would dangle and shine from your lobes. You shook your head, letting out a short laugh. 

“That man,” you scowled playfully. “He just doesn’t know when to quit.”

He always bought you presents, especially after you moved in months ago. They were always expensive, and you would yell at him for wasting so much on you. He said it wasn’t an issue and he wanted to spoil you. It left you wondering how much money he had. You never fought him hard about it; the gesture was always sweet and made you smile because he thought of you so much.

Climbing out of bed, you grabbed an outfit from the closet, showering and dressing quickly. It was the early afternoon when you stepped out of the penthouse, leaving the large building with a pep in your step. You walked down the road to a small market store on the corner, a place you would frequent when you had small cravings or needed mild groceries. With the thought of Taeyong returning in time for dinner, you wanted to return his generous gift with a homemade meal of his favorite items - complete with a chocolate cake.

The only issue was you were low on groceries. The last of your groceries went to a large group dinner a few nights prior, the pair of you opting for take out after that. You figured you would only get a few groceries for the time being until Johnny could take you down for a full grocery run. 

The door jingled when you walked in, the street oddly empty. You paid no attention to the lack of people around, waving at the store owner who sat at the register behind the counter. You grabbed the small reusable bag and disappeared down the aisles, humming to yourself as you searched for what you needed. 

“Let’s see. If I make kalguktsu, I will need more noodles and vegetables. We have stock still, and I could pick up some prawns for it too. Maybe grab some snacks and something for lunch. Maybe some kimbap…”

You talked to yourself as you placed the desired items in your bag. Making it to the last aisle for your snacks, your eyes ran over the items, searching for anything that sounded good. You kneeled to the floor to look at the lower shelves, placing the bag aside, when the door jingled again. Initially, you paid no mind to it, figuring another customer walked in.

Until you heard a gunshot. 

You collapsed to the side in shock, watching the water canister in the corner get pierced, water leaking onto the ground and flooding it. You covered your mouth in shock, afraid to make a noise. 

“Well, well, Dohyeon,” someone spoke, causing you to shake. “Is anyone else here?”

Your breathing stopped. you glanced towards the end of the aisle, afraid they would hear you or find you. You could feel your hands shaking, tears starting to leak from your eyes. With bated breath, you awaited the owner’s response. 

“No,” he responded confidently, no waiver in his voice. “It’s been slow today. But I guess I know why.”

“Yeah,” the person responded. “Come on in, boss. Coast is clear.”

The door jingled, two pairs of footsteps tapping against the floor. You waited to hear what they would have to say, but what you heard made your heart stop for reasons other than fear.

“You should have known I would find out.”

Through bleary eyes, you glanced up, finding a reflective mirror in the corner of the store. In front of the counter stood four men - four men you knew too well. Johnny and Jaehyun held guns at the owner - Dohyeon - while Mark stood behind the man with familiar red hair. You wanted to cry and sob, but you couldn’t. You were appalled to find Taeyong there, staring down Dohyeon with his own gun.

“You knew those drugs were mine. You were supposed to sell them for us. But no. You had to go and doublecross us and sell the stock to Stray Kids? What kind of profit did you make off that.”

Dohyeon was quiet.

“Yeah, you know I’m fucking pissed. You know better than to cross me. But you did anyway!” Another shot fired, making you jump as a counter behind Dohyeon collapsed. “Now, you’re lucky I’m willing to give you one last chance. I could easily kill you here and now, but you haven’t done us wrong until now. 

“But, it won’t come free. I want you to hand over all of the cash you received from them, plus interest. And I expect the next time we give you something, you make sure to stay selling for us. Your cut will be reduced until you are back in good faith, but it’s better than being dead, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Dohyeon whispered bitterly. 

“You don’t sound very grateful,” Taeyong growled. “Would you prefer I just shoot you here and now? I can make that happen.”

“No, sir.”

“Good.” Mark threw a bag on the counter. “Put the money in the bag. All of it.”

You watched Dohyeon load the bag with money from under the counter, as well at the money from the register to satisfy Taeyong’s demands. The bag was zipped shut, Mark taking it from Dohyeon’s grasp. The owner sat back down, watching the four men.

“Think of this as a warning,” Taeyong sneered. “You agreed to this. You work for me and if I find out you are pulling some shady shit again, I will have you killed in the most gruesome way possible. No one fucks with NCT. Am I clear?”

“Yes…”

“I say am I clear?!”

“Yes sir!”

“Good. And if anyone asks what happened here, we were never here. Some kids vandalized you, or something of the sort. You’re a smart man. That’s obvious by trying to sell to Stray Kids, but not smart enough if you didn’t think you’d be caught.”

Taeyong made his way to the door, Mark in tow. Johnny and Jaehyun followed behind them both, never lowering the guns. Taeyong sent one last glance at the man behind the counter. 

“Pleasure doing business as always.”

When the door closed and the jingling stopped, you dropped your hand, feeling your entire body trembling. After a minute passed, and you were sure they had left, you stood on shaky legs, grabbing the bag from the ground. You stumbled out of the aisle, slipping in the pool of water on your way to the door. Dohyeon said nothing as he watched you slap money onto the counter and rush out the door. You ran down the street with bag in hand, disappearing into the sudden sea of people that flooded the previously vacant area.

Sitting at home awaiting his return was nerve wracking.  The second you got home, you threw yourself into another shower, collapsing to the floor and wailing loudly with sobs. The remainder of the afternoon was spent replaying what happened, and pondering how to confront Taeyong about what you had witnessed. You watched the time tick on, curling into yourself with a blanket on the couch.

Taeyong walked through the door with a smile, dropping his keys on the table by the door, kicking off his shoes and stripping off his red jacket. “Baby, I’m home,” he called happily, making his way into the living room. He expected to find you cooking or watching tv, but let his smile fade when he noticed the silence and you curled up on the couch staring at nothing. “Babe?”

You didn’t respond, worrying the red-haired man. He rushed forward, taking a seat at your feet. His hand ran along your blanket covered leg, pausing when he felt you flinch. Taeyong frowned, tilting his head at you. “Y/N, what’s going on? Are you ok?”

“I saw you…”

“What?” he questioned. “What are you talking about?”

You finally looked up at him. He could immediately tell you had been crying from your red and swollen eyes. “Tell me honestly - what is your job?”

“I…” he started, but stopped, turning away.

“I saw you at the little corner store you took me too and we always shop at.”

He stayed silent.

“Taeyong, I want the truth.”

“I think you already figured it out,” he rasped bitterly before sighing. “If you want out now, I won’t blame you. I won’t hold it against you. And I will make sure that no one comes after you for it as long as you remain quiet about what you know.

“But I… I have lied to you many times. And I’m not proud of that. I honestly should have never dragged you into this, but I couldn’t help myself. I have lied about many things, but I have never lied about my feelings for you. I love you with all my heart, Y/N, and I will do anything to keep you safe.

“But I understand that I have made mistakes by keeping this from you. I never wanted you to be involved, but I should have seen this coming one day. And I’m sorry.”

His gaze was on the floor as he talked, but shot up when your cold hand took his, lacing your fingers together. He stared at you, nervously holding his breath. “I don’t like that you lied about this. That you kept this from me for so long.”

“I know…”

“But, I’m also in too deep,” you murmured. Taeyong gave your hand a squeeze. “I fell in love with you the day I met you and I’ve only gotten deeper since then. I… I don’t want to leave you. I love you too much to leave you.”

“You know I live a dangerous life, right?”

“Yeah, I figured that out,” you told him. “But, we are in this together. I will support you and help you where I can. We’ll just be partners in crime.”

Taeyong bit his lip, running a hand through his red hair until the strands were tousled and sticking up in random directions. “Are you sure you want to get involved in this? I don’t want you to feel pressured to join this lifestyle because of me.”

“I’m sure,” came your meek voice. The man could tell you were scared of the answer, of the path you were agreeing to, but the solid grip on his hand and the fire behind your blown orbs gave him your resolve. “I want to stay by your side. I will help you no matter what.”

“Partners in crime, eh?” he chuckled weakly, smiling weakly at your own giggle in return. 

“Yeah. Partners in crime. If you go down, I go down with you. I’m not leaving your side in this. I know I may not seem like the best candidate for this, but I am a quick learner for whatever you need. Train me for whatever you think you need me for. 

“But going forward, you can’t keep things like this from me. If you want to make this work - to make us work - we need to have this trust. If you are as serious about us as you say you are, and I know you are because I have felt your love and passion, then we need to be open. Which means no lies, no deceit, and most of all, standing by each other’s decisions. We are partners in life, in death, and now, in crime I guess.” 

You paused briefly to let out a breath, watching the man nod at your words. “I won’t deny that I am scared of what I am agreeing to, but I will do what I have to because I want to be with you. Until death do us part.”

Taeyong didn’t say anything. The leader silently crawled onto the couch with you, your body shifting slightly so he could nestle himself between you and the back cushions. His head rested on your breast, one arm looped loosely around your waist. Your hand ran through his ruffled locks, feeling his tense form starting to relax at the soothing motion. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was scared too - not for the work he did, but for your inevitable involvement. 

“I love you. So much…”

His voice was low and muffled, but his words were clear.

“I love you too…”

It made you wonder how a man as soft as the one curled into your side was when you were alone could be so ruthless. You heard him that day threaten the owner of the store, and the thought alone still sent shivers up your spine. But it was just another thing you were going to accept about the mysterious man. 

You were serious when you said to death do you part. You were determined to stand by his side in every situation. He loved you and you loved him. Even though he was a dangerous man, you knew you couldn’t escape.

He had your heart in his hand after all.

Hours later, long after the sun had set and the clock struck midnight, you sat on the same couch, listening to Taeyong pace around behind you. After your confrontation upon his return home, you prepared dinner and had an emotional discussion about everything. He revealed everything to you in that time, laying his life on the table before you. 

He led a small mafia group called NCT. They were one group under a larger organization, and their group controlled the area you lived in. There were twenty-one boys in their unit, breaking into smaller units to manage their territory. Taeyong mentioned there were rival groups that tended to do business in their area, but for the most part, they didn’t clash too much. 

Taeyong, though he led all of the boys in the building, worked mostly with the eight other boys you had spent so much of your time with. The other two groups, Dream and WayV, had members who lead them when Taeyong couldn’t. The building they lived in was owned by their organization. 

And as he spilled everything, including his background and how he got involved coming out of high school, everything seemed to click more given everything you had been through with him since you met. Yet, it didn’t change your feelings for him. It just solidified his trust in you and his desire to have you in his life. 

Now ame the hard part.

“What’s going on boss?” a loud voice chimed as the front door opened widely, eight chipper boys filing through the entryway quickly, led by Mark. “Did something happen with that weapons… call…”

Mark’s voice faded away when the group saw you sitting on the couch and their leader anxiously walking back and forth, his thumb nail in his mouth as he nibbled at it. All of the boys gaped at the sight, unprepared for your presence. Mark seemed the most uncomfortable, seeing as he was about to talk business, assuming that was what they were being called for given the cryptic message they had received that simply said “we have something to discuss. It’s important.”

“Y/N…” Mark stuttered out, panic laced in his voice. “I didn’t know you were here…”

“She lives here,” Yuta pointed out lowly, only to receive a jab in his side from Mark’s elbow.

“Well, just ignore whatever I was saying! It wa a joke really-”

“It’s fine,” Taeyong said, cutting the young boy off. He stopped pacing to face the group, still biting at his nail. “She knows.”

The boys stared at their leader for a minute before bursting into a loud mixture of questions and concerns. Taeyong stared blankly at them until he got fed up with their loud noise, motioning them to silence. The room grew quiet in an instant, all eight of the boys finding places to eat to listen to what Taeyong had to say. 

“She saw us earlier today when we went to handle Dohyeon. She knows who we are and what we do. We’ve already talked about it,” Taeyong muttered.

You stayed silent, waiting for someone to react. But the last thing you expected was Jaehyun, your trusted workout buddy, to stand from his seat across from you and point a gun at your forehead. His eyes narrowed on your form, your stare on him unwavering. Deep inside, you were quaking with fear. You barely registered the remaining boys behind him yelling at him to stand down.

The leader wasn’t having this action. Taeyong was swift to react himself, grabbing a gun he kept in a drawer near the couch and aiming it at Jaehyun. Taeyong’s glare at his friend was sharp, eyes darker than normal. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, gritting his teeth to keep from snapping completely. “Stand down, Jae.”

“She knows, Taeyong,” Jaehyun retorted, never moving his gaze to his leader. “What’s to stop her from spilling this to the cops? What’s to stop her from leaving when we least expect it and turning us in? We aren’t the good guys here, and now your little girlfriend knows our secret. I knew this wasn’t a good idea when you started bringing her here. It was only a matter of time. So now, we need to make sure she isn’t going to turn.”

“Jaehyun-”

“I don’t plan to sell you out,” you spoke up, cutting off Taeyong. “If I did, I wouldn’t have come back here and confronted Taeyong about this.”

“So? That means nothing. You could be gathering evidence to bring to the cops-”

“I love Taeyong,” you cut in. “I wouldn’t do that to him, and I wouldn’t do that to you guys. You guys are my friends. We have spent so much time together and I love you guys to death.”

“How can I trust you?” Jaehyun snapped.

“You’ll just have to,” you told him.

“Put the gun down, Jae,” Taeyong told him, watching the man slowly lower the weapon and return to his seat. His own gun was placed aside, placing his hands on your shoulders instead. “We’ve talked about this all night. It hasn’t been easy. But you guys know I love Y/N to death. I don’t want to lose her. And her saying she is willing to accept this part of me, this part of us, means everything to me. I don’t want to lose her.

“So, after talking about it, I’ve agreed to let her join us. She said she wants to help us. But, we wanted to get your guys’ approval for her to join as well. We are a team and I can’t decide this on my own.”

You placed a hand on his that was on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know you guys may be concerned, but I promise you that I am here to help. I don’t want to sell anyone out or see anyone get hurt. I just want to be with Taeyong and all of you.” You paused, feeling Taeyong lean down to kiss the top of your head. “Taeyong and I are partners. I love him with all my heart and I will stand by his side until death do us part. Now, we’ll just be partners in crime too.”

The room grew quiet again, your stomach bubbling with nerves. You weren’t sure what their response would be, or what would happen if they decided you didn’t belong. You feared you would be forced to leave the man you loved because of his occupation.

“So, till death do you part? Does that mean you guys are going to get married finally?” Jungwoo chimed happily, eyes sparkling. “I’ve been waiting for Taeyong to propose for so long. Can I be the flower boy?”

“You’re not even the youngest!” Haechan growled, Jungwoo giving him a smug smile.

“But I’m cuter!”

“Hey, no fighting!” Doyoung scolded the two boys. “They didn’t say anything about marriage yet!”

“We all know it’s coming,” Yuta chuckled, watching your cheeks instantly flush a bright red. You turned to Taeyong, flustered. Taeyong shrugged with an obvious smile.

“They aren’t wrong. One day, you will be mine. But, I plan to propose to you properly.”

“Taeyong!” you screamed, swatting at him. Everyone laughed, Jaehyun excluded. As everyone quieted down, Taeyong spoke back up.

“By a show of hands, how many of you are in favor or letting Y/N join? Before you decide, please know that we will need to train her in what we do.” His eyes turned to Jaehyun for a moment before continuing. “On a count of three. One… two… three…”

Four hands shot up instantly - Mark, Jungwoo, Haechan and Yuta. three hands were slow to follow - Taeil, Doyoung and Johnny. Everyone turned to Jaehyun, who had yet to decide. The man stared deeply at you, mouth in a tight line.

“If she joins, I am in charge of training,” his cold voice cut in. “I don’t trust her in this situation and if things turn south, I will not hesitate to end this deal.” 

You shivered at his words, but glanced up at Taeyong, giving him a nod. Taeyong sighed.

“Fine, but just know that if you turn around and kill her, I will kill you.”

“Deal,” Jaehyun said before raising his hand.

Taeyong smiled slightly before nodding. “That’s it. With everyone’s consent,” he hummed, moving to sit beside you. He kissed your cheek swiftly, your face heating. “Welcome to NCT, Y/N.”

You smiled, bowing to the boys. “Thank you for having me.”

“This is going to be interesting,” Mark hummed, everyone agreeing.

You knew he wasn’t wrong. 

~

If you ever thought you’d be good at something in life, it wasn’t your skill with fighting or with a gun. It wasn’t your natural ability to be intimidating on command. Maybe you thought you’d be good at sewing, or maybe drawing beautiful scenary on paper. 

But no. 

Under Jaehyun’s watchful eye, the glint from the darkness as he watched you punch at a dummy in the weight room before pushing it back completely despite being twice your size, or when your eyes narrowed on a target, the sudden jolt of the gun in your hands leading to a bulls eyes through the forehead of your paper victim, you had managed to fit right now with the mafia boys you had come to love. 

Jaehyun, naturally, still had minor suspicions of you, even after months of one-on-one training to get you in tip top shape to be a member. But, the day you managed to take him down in a spar, leaving you giddy with delight before hopping around the room ecstatically, he started to lay off on his threats to end you so willingly. When you hadn’t spilled the truth to anyone, even when your former boss asked why you were quitting so suddenly, he felt a bit more at ease. When you took training seriously, showing up early and staying extra late to master what he was trying to teach, pushing through pain to continue, he would smile just a bit at your determination.

Taeyong couldn’t have been more proud. He had told you that on many occasions. When he would pop in to assess your progress, he never found a second to be unimpressed. You had grown strong in your time with Jaehyun, making you a force to be reckoned with.

And he couldn’t lie when he said it wasn’t attractive. 

There were the days when he would join in on your hand-to-hand training, after Jaehyun was willing to allow his boss to intervene. There were days he would be in the gun range on the ground floor, hidden deep in the back in a soundproof room, where we would watch you fire shot after shot without missing your mark, sometimes joining for a small competition. He never lost, but you didn’t make it easy when he would get distracted by your beauty.

In those days, Jaehyun would dismiss himself early, trusting his boss and friend in case something were to happen. And he was right - in a sense. Those were the days you found yourself getting frisky with your lover, moaning loudly while he thrust into your wet core. He’d have you pressed against a mat in the training room, or sitting atop the table in the gun range where you’d place your unused weapons, pounding you like an animal in heat, leaving searing hot kisses along your face and throat. You’d have to clean up afterwards, but it was worth it to be with Taeyong in that way; night time was never the best for intimacy when you were both exhausted. 

Part of you was glad that no one ever walked in when you had those moments, but part of you was also convinced that Jaehyun knew what would happen when you were left alone together, and he would warn the others not to disturb you. 

He was cold, but you knew he meant well. 

When you awoke one morning nearly six months into your newfound profession, you found Taeyong dressed in a black turtleneck and tan trench coat, loose blue jeans hugging his slim waist, and his bright red locks slicked back the way he did when he meant business, you knew he was on a job that day. 

“I want to join,” you meekly voiced, catching him off guard. The man whipped around to face you, adjusting his necklaces.

“You’re worn out, baby. And this is a pretty big job today. I don’t want you to get involved,” he voiced, biting at his lower lip. “This jewelry store owner that we leant money to so he could start up his business hasn’t paid, but he’s not a pushover. I don’t want you there in case things turn ugly.”

“I’ll be fine, Yong,” you hushed him, slinging yourself from the bed and rushing to the closet. Taeyong pouted, following after you.

“Babe-”

“No, don’t start,” you huffed at him. “You’ve only sent me on small jobs. I’m ready for something more, Taeyong.”

“I know, but-”

“But nothing!” you yelled. When Taeyong recoiled slightly, you sighed. “I’m sorry, Yongie. But I think I’m ready. I agreed to do this, to join you guys. So, let me do my job. I can help. And if things go sour, I can handle myself. I’m almost as good of a marksman as you. I can sometimes take down Jaehyun in a fight and he’s not an easy target. Yes, I’m tired because of yesterday’s training, but I’m not too tired to go help you with this. So, please-”

He cut you off with a kiss, his plump lips sealing yours. Your body instantly melted into his, wrapping your arms around his torso. His hands were clasped to your hips, tugging you closer. When he pulled away, finding your eyes closed and lips puckered, he chuckled. 

“Shut up and get dressed. We don’t have all day.”

You were left alone, a silent cheer leaving your body before rushing to find an outfit. In a matter of minutes, you were bouncing into the living room, pulling on a loose blouse to go with the tight black jeans. Taeyong’s eyes followed after you from the breakfast bar, licking his lips.

“Do you plan to seduce someone?” he chirped cheekily. “Because I must say, it’s working.”

“Shut up,” you scowled at him, trying to hide the blush and smile on your face while trekking to the front door. You picked up a pair of sleek heels - ones that Taeyong gifted you one day - and turned to the red haired man, giving a sultry wink. “Now, shall we get going, big boy? We have a job to do.”

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this. You’re gonna be the death of me before we ever get to the store.”

You giggled, pulling on your shoes and slipping out the door. Taeyong closely followed, taking your hand on the way to the elevator and to the garage. Johnny and Mark were waiting, as per usual for things like this, but the look of surprise on their faces when they saw you at their boss’ side made you chuckle. They didn’t question, Johnny simply opening the door so you and Taeyong could slide into the back. The tall man took his place at the wheel, Mark bouncing in the passenger seat as the car rolled from its spot onto the crowded street.

On the drive, you were briefed more in depth about what was going on. Mark, who was busy loading ammo into an arsenal of guns, passed two back, Taeyong tucking one into his jeans and handing you the other. Your heart pounded, looking down at the gun in your hand. It felt heavy in your grip. Despite the training, and the few things you had done for Taeyong, you had not actually used the weapon on someone. Would today be the day? You couldn’t say, but something in your gut said today wouldn’t be a good day. Bile rose in your throat at the worrisome feeling that lingered inside.

The street was near desolate when you arrived, the four of you sliding out of the car and approaching the jewelry store. No one was inside when you entered, a small bell ringing upon your entrance. The store owner, an older man named Youngjae, sitting behind the counter turned his head up with a smile that quickly vanished when he realized who had entered. Taeyong approached him confidently, you and Mark on his tail. The young blonde boy carried a large duffle bag in his left hand. Johnny guarded the door, flipping the sign to closed, securing the lock, and pulling down the sun visor so people couldn’t see what was happening so clearly. 

“Time to pay up, Youngjae,” Taeyong spoke clearly, skipping the theatrics and jumping straight to the point. Youngjae’s gaze on the young mafia leader didn’t falter, his lips sealed in a tight line. “Are you deaf? You’re lucky we waited until now to come collect. You are nearly six months overdue on that loan for this shop. And from what I’ve heard, you’ve been doing rather well for yourself.”

Taeyong walked around the store, picking up some necklaces on display that had diamonds that shone brightly, trailing some fingers along the sapphire bracelets, and finally stopping at the engagement rings. He picked one up that had a square cut diamond in the center, two smaller ones adorning either side of it. He seemed to hum in approval, grabbing a velvet box from a stand and turning to Mark. 

“Pack up some of the jewelry. We can use it as part of the payment.” Youngjae went to move when the younger male moved to collect from open stands, Taeyong quick to pull his weapon on the man. The older gentleman rose both hands, stilling in his movements, his stoic face unchanged. “Don’t even think about it.”

When Mark finished collecting what he deemed most valuable, he placed the bag in front of Youngjae. “Money,” the boy spoke.

When he didn’t move, Taeyong’s eyes narrowed. “You heard him,” the boss sneered angrily, narrowing his eyes. “All of the money in your safe deposit under the counter - I know it’s there because we installed it - and in your register. We’ll take that for now. If you continue to avoid payment, we will come back for the bank account. Sound fair?”

Youngjae continued to stay unmoving.

In a flash, you pulled out your own gun, clicking the safety off and aiming directly at his forehead. Your eyes were dark, making the older man visibly swallow. You were mildly thankful for your quick makeup job, making you somewhat more intimidating than your normal soft exterior. 

“I won’t say it again,” you huffed. “Put the money in the bag, or I will shoot you. I don’t have time to play this game with you, so if you value your life, i suggest you do what you’ve been told, pay up when you need to, and move on with your life. You made a deal with the devil for this, so it’s time to pay up. What do you say, sweetie?”

Youngjae silently nodded, opening the register and pulling handfuls of bills out. He followed by kneeling down on the floor to unlock the safe deposit box, pulling out more wads of bills that were all placed into the duffle bag. When he was finished, he backed away slowly, hands still in the air.

“That’s what I thought,” you smiled eerily, nodding at Mark to grab the bag. Taeyong smirked at himself, waving at Johnny to unlock the door. Mark left first, Johnny following to bring the car forward. “Pleasure doing business sweetheart. Don’t let this happen again.”

Blowing in a quick kiss, you made your way to the door, heels clicking and hips swaying. Taeyong followed after you, keeping an eye on the owner before slipping out of the door. You both piled back into the car, the vehicle quick to disappear down the road.

But what you had both missed in that moment was Youngjae pressing the small panic button on the underside of his countertop. His eyes traveled to the small tv on the side of his counter that showed security footage of the car you had gotten into, the man narrowing on the license plate. When his phone rang, police on the other line, he picked up.

“I’ve just been robbed by the mafia. I have their plate number. It’s…”

The events went unbeknownst to you on your way back to the penthouse, Taeyong’s hand on your thigh. He placed a kiss to your ear, nipping it lightly. “That was hot,” he whispered. “I never thought I’d be so turned on hearing you talk like that.”

“Is that so?” you hummed, turning to face him. His eyes were dark and lustful, making you wiggle in your seat. His lips curled up, giving a toothy grin.

“Guys, take care of the goods,” he voiced when Johnny pulled into the garage. You were nearly yanked from the car before it could come to a complete stop, Taeyong lifting you into his arms and carrying you away. Mark and Johnny watched you squeal loudly, cringing when they saw Taeyong smack your backside on his way to the elevator.

“I didn’t need to see that,” Mark mumbled, Johnny nodding in agreement.

The moment you were pushed through the penthouse door, you were dropped onto the couch, shoes and blouse discarded immediately. Taeyong went to pounce on your, narrowly missing your escaping form into your shared bedroom. His huff of annoyance could be heard as you ran into the bathroom, pulling off your jeans and undergarments as you went. You disappeared into the glass shower before Taeyong could join you, starting the hot water up. 

Taeyong’s eyes narrowed on your now wet form, watching you make faces at him through the glass. Your form was bare and dripping, and adding that to the memory of early, he was twitching already. The tan coat had been discarded on the bed before he joined you in the bathroom, but he didn’t hesitate to shed the turtleneck and jeans as well. The door was shut, and the glass door was opened, the man appearing at your side.

Immediately, you were tugged into a searing kiss, your body melting into his grasp under the waterfall of droplets that cascaded down your forms. He didn’t bother to ask for permission, his tongue bypassing your lips to attack the inside of your mouth. His hands gripped harder to your hips, veins running along up his hands and along his arms. His head tilted to the side to press perfectly against you, his mouth molding into yours without issue.

He pulled away for air, the steam from the shower making it harder to breath. Taeyong eyes were darker than normal, lust slated within the brown orbs. His tongue passed over his swollen lips, tracing yours slightly from the close proximity, earning a small whimper from within your throat.

“You were wonderful out there today,” he hummed lowly, nipping at your skin until he reached your ear. “I wasn’t expecting you to jump in the way you did. And you way you handled everything?” He paused for a moment, his breath hot on your ear. “It was pretty fucking hot.”

His words made you shiver, a mewl of delight piercing the sound of falling water. Taeyong pushed back his now wet hair, biting at his lip. 

“I should reward you for it. How does that sound?”

You didn’t even respond. His face was simply tugged back to yours, eagerly kissing his plump lips once more. Your hands cupped his cheeks, taeyong pulling you taut against his body. His steps moved forward; yours moved back. You found yourself pressed against the chillingly cold wall of the shower, grimacing in the midst of the sloppy connection and arch your back away from the steely frost against your skin. It only pushed you further into the mafia boss’ needy body, feeling the heat that radiated from his skin.

His lips traveled from your ear, down your cheek and to your neck, attacking it with suckling kisses that left dark red blotches ebbed on your skin. Your hands on his cheeks slid up to his wet red locks, scratching at his scalp happily. Your body burned under his light touches, feeling his fingers ghosting along your arms to your chest, fondling your breasts for a moment before his lips replaced his diligent digits to suckle at the hardened nipples, finally sliding down between your soaked forms to to with your moist pussy. 

The combination of his long fingers alternating between circling your clit and prodding at your core, and his gentle cites and kisses to your sensitive mounds sent your head reeling back, loud moans unceremoniously filling the air. Taeyong’s wicked grin against your chest was obvious almost as much as his increased actions, speeding up rubbing at your nub and popping his lips against your chest when he would tug at the buds.  

“Yong,” you whimpered at him, squirming in his grasp. Your stomach churned with arousal and delight, the feeling of his fingers sliding into your tight core adding to the stars you were already feeling. The thrusts of the two digits made you body jolt, his hand quick and nimble. His thumb pressed to your clit as he moved, the man grinning at your face that was twisted with ecstasy. “Oh god, baby. Yes.”

“You like that?” he mused, kissing his way back up to your face. “Or, do you like my cock better?”

“At this point, anything,” you managed to get out, breath picking up the closer you got to your end. “I love you so much, Taeyong.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured, kissing you lightly. “I love you too, baby.”

He pulled his fingers back before you could finish, a whining groan escaping you. “You love me but you don’t let me finish? How dare you-”

In a flash, you were spun around, your eyes meeting the wall, barely able to make out the condensation dripping along the white porcelain. Your hands pressed to the surface to keep from falling over, fingers curling against it. The feeling stung against your palms, your hands cold in contrast to the wet wall heated from the water that rained around you. The heat of a body pressed against your back, searing kisses placed along your neck and shoulder, sent shivers along your spine. Strong but delicate hands roamed along your form, hips rutting against your backside slowly, before your right leg was hiked up swiftly. 

“Are you ready for me?” he whispered seductively into your ears, lips tracing along the shell delicately.

“Yes, please,” you mewled at him, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. “Please, Taeyong.”

The low hum heard amongst the shower left your mind blank, anticipation flooding your veins. The slow rut of his hips was agonizing, and it wasn’t until he finally slid into you with one swift thrust that you felt full. A loud moan left your lips, your forehead placed against the wall happily. His thrusts began quick, wasting no time with slamming himself into your tight center and shoving your body further against the wall. 

“Oh Tae,” you let out. The familiar curl of his grin against the side of your head was unmistakable at the sound you made. 

“God, you always feel so good,” he rasped lowly, jutting himself harder than before and grinding against you harshly. The deep grunt he let out was thrilling to hear. “How did I get so lucky with you?”

“I think it’s me that got lucky,” you managed to say through plants, jolting when he resumed his rapid thrusts. “I’m so lucky:”

Taeyong seemed to speed up from your broken words, his cock pistoning in and out of you swiftly. His hips clapped against your ass, your leg hiked up bits at a time that made the angle deeper and his cock hit spots that made you shake. Every push into you, he found that one spot that had you moaning his name pathetically, chanting it like a mantra. 

The water was beginning to go cold by the time you were convulsing from his thrusts, feeling his hand wrap around your throat the closer you got to your high. You begged him softly to let you cum, the man commanding you to wait until he was ready to fill you to the brim with his own milky essence. His lips trailed down your neck nipping at the skin with his teeth and giving a gentle squeeze that made your sight go white with a rainbow of stars for a moment. 

“Yong, please.”

“Hold on, baby,” he kept saying, gasping the more he did. His thrusts were growing sloppy and forced the longer he went, his grip on your body hardening. With his forehead on your shoulder, he managed to utter a quick, “I’m almost there,” before grunting loudly.

THe last of his thrusts were the hardest and deepest, his cock lingering inside your wet pussy as he released. His milky seed spilled into you in bursts of warmth, painting your inner walls in the creamy white substance. His release sent your own into a fit of spasms, your walls tightening and convulsing around his length. They hugged at his thick shaft, coating it in your release while milking his own. Taeyong’s movements slowed to a gentle rhythm, letting your two forms meld into one against the wall and your cum mixing together deep inside of you.

Fingers pressed against the side of your face, tilting your head to the side. Your hazy gaze landed on the deep brown irises of Taeyong, a warm smile on his lips. Slowly, he leaned forward, remaining buried deep inside of you as he pressed a firm and loving kiss to your lips, conveying every ounce of love he felt into the connection. The frozen droplets of water did nothing to you against the heat of your bodies and the smoldering kiss you shared. 

And as his lips dragged down against yours, you couldn’t help but to smile.

With your body dried and dressed in onee of Taeyong’s baggy, long-sleeved shirts and a pair of jeans, you walked into the living room, headed for the kitchen. As you opened the fridge to find something to make for dinner, two arms wrapped around your form, a giggle erupting from your lips. Taeyong snuggled into your neck, lifting you off your feet and kicking the fridge shut.

“Taeyong, no! I’m hungry!” you scowled through a laugh, flailing in the man’s arms. Your actions proved futile, Taeyong carrying you to the couch and falling on his back atop it, placing you on his lap. 

“I know. But I wanted to spend some more time with you,” he pouted, the look adorable in your opinion. His fingers played with the hem of the shirt you wore, dipping under it to trace his fingers along your side. “Have I ever mentioned how beautiful you are?”

“Maybe once or twice,” you joked, leaning forward to place a butterfly kiss to his nose. 

Taeyong sent you a shimmering smile, pulling you into a harder kiss. His tongue bypassed your lips instantly, the kiss growing hotter by the second. Your eyes slipped closed, your body eagerly rolling against his. A deep groan was muffled in his throat, hands pushing desperately at your shirt until your chest was exposed. That was the only time he broke the kiss - so he could attach his lips to your perk nipples, tongue flicking them happily.

“Tae,” you moaned loudly. 

You pushed against his chest to sit upright, rolling against him harder and faster. Your jeans pushed into your aching core, feeling his growing hard on through his own pair of black denim bottoms. His hands gripped at your chest, hooded eyes watching you grind against him. Your eyes slid shut, head falling back as his name left your mouth.

“Tae,” you whimpered, cracking open your eyes and turning to look at him. But your movements slowed, much to his dismay. The male under you whimpered and pushed up into you, eager to continue. “Taeyong, what is that?”

The mafia leader ceased his movements, propping himself up on his elbows and turning to follow your gaze. His brow creased at the flashing blue and red lights that reflected slightly on the window.

“The fuck?” he murmured, moving you from his lap and rushing to the window. “Why the fuck are the cops here?”

“The cops?” you whispered to yourself, eying the man you love. Before you could question him more, muffled gunshots could be heard through the building. 

Taeyong was quick to rush to the door, grabbing a gun on the way and sliding on his shoes. You jumped up after him, stumbling as you pulled on your own shoes and following after him. The noise in the hallway was louder than in the penthouse, screaming and shouting growing louder as your bounded down the stairwell. Exhaustion was setting in from the numerous stairs you rushed down, but neither of you stopped.

“Taeyong, wait!” you called at the man who refused to slow down. “Don’t rush in there! You could get hurt!”

Seething with anger, he didn’t listen, pushing open the door to the ground floor as soon as he hit the bottom step. You barely could register someone yelling Taeyong’s name and a shot being fired before he was stumbling back, a hand on his shoulder. 

“Fuck!” he yelled out in pain, pulling his hand back to see the crimson blood coating his fingers. 

“Baby, are you alright?” you asked, pulling him further from the door and seating him on the steps of the stairwell. Your own hand trembled, placed on his and feeling the blood slide between your fingers. “Shit, you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” he grimaced, wincing while adjusting how he was sitting. 

“You’re far from, sir,” you told him, ripping off one of the sleeve of the shirt you wore and wrapping it around his arm. “This will help for now but…”

“It’s fine,” he said again. “We need to get out there and meet with the others. I saw them briefly when I opened the door.”

“But what if they shoot again?” you asked, your voice meek.

“I will protect you,” he said, letting out a deep breath before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Stay low and you’re going to go left. Jaehyun and Yuta are behind the reception desk.”

“Alright,” you let out. 

“Don’t worry. I will be right behind you.”

Nodding, you cracked open the door, crouching low. The flashing of the police vehicles was brighter when you entered the lobby, finding the once beautiful area destroyed. Dead bodies of the staff that were employed by the NCT mafia to man their building were laid in various areas of the room, blood pooling around their unfortunate bodies after being caught in the crossfire. Furniture was ridden with bullet holes, upholstery exposed, and tables and desks having their wood flaked and chipped. 

Jaehyun was quick to aid you, pulling you behind the front desk before helping Taeyong over. Yuta, Jungwoo and Mark were with him, heavily breathing and reloading their guns with the limited ammo they had. 

“What the hell is going on?” Taeyong snarled at no one in particular. 

“The cops, obviously,” Yuta cheekily joked, his laughter ceased with Taeyong’s glare.

“Obviously,” came the leader’s retort. “Did the police say anything?”

“No,” Mark told him, leaning against the desk. “I can only assume we were ratted out after what happened earlier.”

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Taeyong yelled. “Shit!”

“Yong, calm down,” you told him, taking his shaking hand. This seemed to calm him slightly.

“Where is everyone else?”

“Already sent off to the escape tunnels,” Jungwoo mumbled, eyes darting to a wall to the right. Taeyong had told you of the secret passage for escape in case of emergencies. “We told them that we would hold them off so they could get to the cars and escape.”

Taeyong nodded, running a hand through his red locks. His mouth opened, only to be silenced by the squeal of a microphone outside.

“This is the Seoul Police. We have the place surrounded. Come out with your hands up, or we will be forced to fire!”

The boys seemed adamant on fighting, telling you to stay down as they opened fire at the door and windows, the police firing back with each shot. The ring of the shots made your head hurt, your hands cupping your ears in an attempt to shield them. Your eyes squeezed closed, curling in on yourself and only hoping that a stray shot didn’t hit anyone. 

When the firing came to a stop, and the boys ducked down, thankfully unharmed, they were all cursing. Jaehyun pushed at the desk, dropping his now empty gun.

“We’re fucked,” he growled, ruffling his dark locks. 

“No,” Taeyong said firmly. “You guys go and escape. I will keep them distracted.”

“What, no-” Yuta began to protest, but Taeyong shook his head.

“I’m your leader. I swore to protect you all. I will go down fighting for my family.”

Yuta, Jungwoo, Mark and Jaehyun nodded, Marking peering around the desk. “We have a chance now. They aren’t looking in that way. If we can make it to the passage, we’re fine.”

“Good, then go,” Taeyong ordered, turning to look at you. “You need to go with them.”

“No,” you firmly said. 

“That wasn’t an offer, Y/N,” Taeyong huffed. “Please, I need you to go. I need you to be safe-”

“I know it wasn’t an offer. I know what you’re thinking, but my answer is still no. I told you a long time ago when I learned what you do that I would be by your side until the end. I will be by your side until death do us part. I’m not leaving you to handle this on your own, Lee Taeyong. If you go down, I’m going with you.”

“Y/N,” he started, glancing at the others. They all held looks of concern, but chose to say nothing when their leader nodded hesitantly. The four men gave you a soft look before they darted for the passageway, the wall sliding open and closed quickly, their forms gone.

Taeyong sighed, leaning his back against the desk. He took the gun from his jeans that he grabbed on his way out of the penthouse, checking the ammo he had. “Not much left, eh?”

“Never thought this would be the end, did you?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Taeyong smiled for a second before becoming serious. 

“You should have left while you could…”

“You know that wasn’t a choice.” A hand slid into his.”We are partners in crime after all. If you go down, I’m going down with you. I will follow you to the ends of the earth, and I will never regret it.”

A small smile graced the man’s face, lacing his fingers with yours. With a reassuring squeeze and the click of his gun in his right hand, he glanced to his side. 

“I honestly knew this day was going to come eventually. I knew I would go down one way or another,,” he rasped, tucking the gun once more into the back of his jeans. His eyes locked on yours before continuing, “But I’m glad that I have you by my side.”

You smiled at him before placing a tender kiss to his lips, your free hand carefully placed on his bandaged shoulder. His eyes closed, relishing in the feeling and taste of your lips on his. The screams from outside the building fell on deaf ears. The threats made went unheard. In those ten seconds, it was just the both of you, embraced by the calm emotions shared between your forms. Silent tears slid down your cheeks from fear and sadness, knowing your impending fate, but he wiped them away gently after pulling away. His lips dragged down yours as he backed away solemnly, wishing this wouldn’t be the end.

“I love you,” he mumbled just loud enough to be heard. 

“I love you too,” you repeated, taking his hand and preparing to stand and face the gallows of red and blue lights flashing through broken windows and bent blinds. “I always will, Taeyong.”

Together you stood, lifting your hands as you walked towards the door. You spied the barrel of guns aimed at you as you stopped at the door, staring down the cops. Their words fell deaf on your ears waiting for Taeyong to pull the gun and proceed with his last hurrah. Your heart was pounding, hands clammy.

This was the end. 

Just as Taeyong reached for his gun, smoke filled the area, shouts and screams and shots firing around the blinded area. Taeyong gripped your hand, tugging you back into the lobby of the building. He rushed towards the secret passage holding your hand tightly. As the wall slid open, he turned back to the doorway, spotting a figure in dark blue with a gas mask on watching them. You turned to follow his gaze, spotting the figure gesture before disappearing into the smoke.

“Who was that?” you asked quietly.

Taeyong pushed against the small of your back to force you into the passage, the wall sliding shut behind him. “Heechul.”

“Who’s that?”

“Our older brother mafia,” Taeyong hummed, smiling giddily. “Super Junior.”

“They came to our rescue?”

“Yeah,” the leader mumbled. “The others must have called them as soon as it was safe.”

“Well, I’m glad then…”

Taeyong chuckled, pulling you into a hug despite the pain he felt in his injured arm. His face nestled into your hair, a low sob escaping his throat. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“We’re both safe.”

“Well, not yet I guess,” Taeyong said. “We need to go. Now.”

“Alright…”

Taeyong took your hand once more, the two of you running down the darkened hall, hoping that nothing would find you at the end.

~

You hummed a song softly, staring out a crack in the window at the barren road in front of the motel. Your fingers ran soothingly through the dyed black locks of your lover, who was curled up in your lap. Turning to look down at him, your own dyed locks fell against your cheeks, ticking his nose. A smile grew on his face, eyes remaining closed. 

You had taken refuge in a small motel far from the city, waiting for things to die down. The boys were scattered and in hiding, just like yourselves. Disposable phones were the only way to keep in contact to make sure everyone was safe still. There was no telling how long you were to live like this, but you didn’t mind it. 

“Y/N,” Taeyong sang, finally opening his chocolate colored orbs to look up at you. ���I love you.”

He took your hand that was previously resting on his chest into his, playing  with the square cut diamond ring you wore. It was the same one he took from the shop that day. A few days after your escape, after Taeyong had been patched up for his injury by the Super Junior mafia and everyone separated for protection, going into hiding, he pulled out the box from his jeans pocket. 

“I was going to propose with this that night. I had everything planned - a nice dinner, a big speech, and a night to make love to you - but it all got fucked up. I would understand if you didn’t want to be with me,” he had said while laying in bed, fiddling with the box. 

“You’re stupid if you think after all of this that I would say no and leave you. Till death do we part, remember?”

You happily wore the ring still, never once taking it off since he slid it on your finger. It wasn’t your ideal proposal, but you weren’t going to argue if it meant you got to be with him. Watching him fiddle with it now, a grin on his soft, handsome features, left your heart fluttering. 

“I love you too, Lee Taeyong,” you hummed. “And remember, I will always be by your side.”

“Partners until the end?” He asked. You smiled leaning down to kiss him softly.

“Naturally.”

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[memeadonna]

The Kingdom of Roses

You are the princess of Rusika, a kingdom neighbouring Novoselic. When one of your government’s high ranking officials is taken as a political prisoner, your kingdom retaliates by taking some of your own -- and they just might be more than you bargained for. 

Hello Everybody! My name is Jess and I’ve been a longtime fan of Danganronpa, from around 2012 or 2013 when I first played the games. I wanted to try my hand at writing a reader insert for one of my favourite characters (and my first ever husbando), one Kazuichi Souda. This beautiful art really inspired me (I scoured high and low for an artist credit, but I couldn’t find one. If you know who drew it please let me know and I will give them the appropriate credit), and I wrote an x reader. I hope you all enjoy!  Warnings: This work contains NSFW not suitable for readers under 18. Please do not interact with this post if you are under 18. 

Monarchies were a dying form of government. Most countries had established parliaments by now, but the Kingdom of Rusika, where you were born, and a few neighbouring kingdoms held onto their royal families until the very end. Novoselic was one such kingdom, one that until a few days ago had been your ally. Your father – beloved king of Rusika – had sent one of his most trusted advisors to negotiate a trade deal with the Nevermind family, rulers of Novoselic.

That advisor had been captured and held at ransom for some unknown reason. The Novoselic Kingdom really had no idea what they were doing, did they?

Sonia Nevermind was someone you had grown up with. The two of you had never been friends, per se, but you understood one another. You were Princesses tasked with leading your kingdoms towards prosperity. Your countries were similar enough – they had once been one, but after a civil war in 926, the country had been divided in half. While Novoselic’s exports consisted of luxury goods – wine, chocolate, and cheese – Rusika’s were more practical. Your main exports were related to geothermal energy and associated technologies, or mining precious gems. Your country – the kingdom of roses – was building the future. Hers was stuck in the past, weighed down by stupid traditions.

Your father trusted you more than Sonia’s father trusted her, and so you had grown up with more responsibilities. You had learned early on the burdens of leadership, and eventually began to find her boring. You made sure she never caught on, always giving her your full attention whenever she rambled about her silly life and silly problems.

Both of your countries had hit economic booms, so what need was there to worry? Gah, her philosophy was so stupid.

Today you woke up to find that your father had arranged the kidnapping of two of Sonia’s closest friends. She had just graduated from the prestigious Hope’s Peak Academy, and had apparently invited her entire class to Novoselic to spend their last vacation celebrating.

It was strange of him to make such a decision without consulting you first. You were supposed to be queen of Rusika one day, and he always made sure you had a say in decisions. Today you were instructed to dress the part of a princess and come greet your guests. You were to show them hospitality and make them feel welcome. You might have kidnapped them, but you weren’t monsters. They would literally receive the royal treatment, and you were to be put in charge of them.

As your handmaidens helped you dress (corseting you, doing your hair and makeup, and fixing your jewelry could be a six-person job), you went over what you wanted to say to your prisoners. How the hell were you supposed to make them feel welcome?

You had never seen a person with two different coloured eyes before. You had also never seen a person with pink hair. Based on the way they looked at you, dripping in jewels and looking your part, you doubted they had seen Sonia in all of her glory yet. You smiled as you introduced yourself, trying your hardest not to look like you were studying them. You explained the situation to them, told them they were valuable political prisoners and would not be harmed or imprisoned as long as they behaved, and did not try to leave.

The man with two different coloured eyes called you a fiend, as well as many other dark names as he promised his Princess would come for him. The man with pink hair affirmed “Miss. Sonia will rescue me!” and shook his fist at you, trying his best not to look starstruck.

Eventually, you got their names out of them.

“How long will we be here?” Gundham asked you over dinner that night. “I wish to return home as soon as possible. I have responsibilities.”

Realistically, you knew it wouldn’t be a quick endeavour. You and Sonia had spent three months as prisoners in a neighbouring kingdom as Rusika and Novoselic had laid siege to the capitol. That was when you had learned she was boring. She kept to herself in her room, and almost seemed upset with you whenever you would negotiate with your captors, or walked the palace grounds like a free woman.

“As long as it takes” you answered coolly, glad that Japanese was one of the languages your family had forced you to learn. Members of the royal family having to speak thiry languages was one tradition that Rusika had kept from its time joined with Novoselic. It came in handy when negotiating with foreigners. “I cannot provide a clearer answer than that.”

“Don’t worry, Gundham,” Souda spoke up. “Sonia will come for us!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gundham spent most of his time observing the animals on your palace grounds. Your late mother had loved peacocks, so your father had taken up breeding them. She had loved many different animals when she had been alive, so the grounds weren’t exactly wanting. He enjoyed speaking with the vain birds, whistling and cooing until they would fan their elegant tails. His hamsters seemed to enjoy their accommodations too, with more seeds than they could have ever hoped to have eaten.

Souda, however, wanted to remain as unaffected as possible. He did his best to refuse any luxuries you offered him. It was only after you found out he had taken apart every electronic device in his room did you ask Gundham. The Ultimate Breeder had warmed up to you quickly, especially since you were the reason his hamsters were so well taken care of.

After Gundham cryptically told you about Souda, you gifted the Mechanic with a set of tools and new appliances to play with. Boredom could be so cruel, and the last thing you wanted was undue suffering.

Seeing him slip shyly into your study made your gift worth it. He was so awkward as he stumbled out a thanks, looking everywhere except your face. He was blushing and fiddling with a screwdriver as he spoke. “I still don’t trust you. You’re Miss. Sonia’s enemy,” he pointed his finger at you. “And any enemy of Miss. Sonia is an enemy of mine.”

“Would you like a workshop?” you asked him calmly. “I’m sure your room is a bit cluttered with all of those appliances. I just want to make your stay comfortable, I bear no ill will towards you, Mr. Souda.”

His cheeks flamed up and he stammered out a non-answer, shuffling out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Souda and Gundham had been with you a little over two weeks when the former finally cracked. He once more barged into your study, and looked you up and down. “I want somewhere to work,” he declared. He placed a crumpled piece of paper on your desk. “Here’s the list of everything I need.”

You saved the speech you were writing and logged off of your computer. “Come with me, Mr. Souda,” you stood gracefully, glad you no longer had to wear your ballgowns around him. It had always made you feel overdressed and obnoxious, especially considering he preferred to wear his jumpsuit rather than the clothes your country had provided him with. It had taken a lot to even convince him to let the servants wash the suit, let alone wear another while he waited.

In the end, you had commissioned seven identical jumpsuits for him, to match the one he already wore. At least he no longer reeked.

You paused at the door to the workshop you had set up for him. There was a guard stationed outside, but a nod from you dismissed him. Kazuichi’s eyes lit up as he observed all of the new-age tech he had to play with. He stammered out a bright-eyed thanks, and you gave him your brightest smile. You had done lots of research into what he would enjoy; he was your guest, not your prisoner. Right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a month, Novoselic struck up a deal with Rusika. A hostage for hostage trade: Gundham Tanaka for your father’s cherished advisor. Kazuichi had not been mentioned in the negotiations at all, something that did not sit right with you.

He tried to pretend that he wasn’t upset he had been forgotten, but it was obvious to anybody with half of a brain he was torn up. You made efforts to spend more time with him. You had him accompany you on walks around the castle’s garden, and even took him out of the palace for a few walks around town for a change of scenery. Nothing you said lifted his spirits. He barely even looked at you now.

You watched him tinkering with his toys, but even that seemed to have lost its shine for him. He looked so sad, so bored that it made you anxious.

“May I ask you something?” you questioned on one such walk. The two of you had been caught in the rain and had sought shelter underneath a quaint gazebo. He looked back at you with a curt nod. “How is your hair pink?”

He blinked at you for a moment before he burst out laughing. It was the first time since he had come to Rusika that he had laughed, and it made your cheeks flame up as he smiled at you.

“I dye it,” he told you after he calmed down. “I first bleach my hair to take the colour out, and then I use a dye to turn it pink.”

“Colour?” You blinked up at him. “What colour is your hair supposed to be?”

Instead of answering, he removed his beanie to reveal about an inch of jet-black hair growing in at his roots. Your eyes widened in wonder. “So, it must be bleached again on the new hair?” you asked.

“Yes,” he smiled at you dopily. “It has to be done every few months or the hair will grow in its natural colour.”

“Does it feel different?” you asked. “The pink and the black?” Instead of replying, he took your hand and placed it onto his hair. Your blush only deepened as you felt how soft it was, and noticed his cheeks were bright red too as you pulled away. “Do you wish to turn your hair pink again? I will send for my stylist.”

He smiled at you, soft but genuine. “I’d really like that. Then I’ll feel a bit more like me,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing?” Souda peeked over your shoulder. You smiled tiredly up at him and you stretched as subtly as you could. You had been taking daily walks with him for several weeks now, and he would always drop by every few hours to see how you were doing, or to show off his latest invention.

“I’m looking at the schematics for a new geothermal energy plant,” you answered. “I’m trying to sort out how we can make our energy extraction more efficient.”

Kazuichi looked over the blueprints on your laptop screen. “I’d have to do the calculations, but if you merged these two pipes here-” he pointed. “-you would cut down significantly on the energy wasted.”

“Pull up a chair,” you told him. “Let’s take a look together, shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kazuichi had been in your care for three months now, and he hardly acted like a prisoner. He called you “Miss” (probably because you called him Mr. Souda), and tended to barge in on you whenever he wanted. He had repaired the castle’s heating system, boosted your internet connection, and even helped you overhaul the design of your new energy plants. These plants would be 46% more efficient than the last schematic, something that amazed you. You told him repeatedly how marvellous he was, if only to see his face light up.

Lately, he had started wearing the jumpsuits your family had initially provided him with – similar to his old one but stamped with your country’s crest on the back – and had been a bit more… touchy than before. He would put a hand on the small of your back while you walked, or gently brush a lock of hair from your face as the two of you had tea.

You were not experienced in the slightest with intimacy or wanting to be in a relationship – you were certain you would learn that after you became queen – but now he was all you could think about. You knew the basics, knew what to expect from a man, but your heart was uncharted territory. You had never loved someone before, and some deep-seated fear in your heart was worried he would think you were taking advantage of him.

“I was in love with her, you know,” he told you one day while you were out for a walk. The two of you were once more caught in the rain and taking shelter in the same gazebo. “I loved Sonia.” Sonia. Not Miss. Sonia.

“Did it hurt?” you asked back, and immediately felt stupid for asking. It was none of your business, why did you want to know?

“I guess?” he shrugged. “I don’t – she never treated me like I mattered. She made me feel like I was nothing. Just a pest. Like I was disposable.”

“Sonia is a fool,” you told him. You meant it, of course you did, but at that moment you just wanted him to smile. “Your contributions will certainly leave their marks on this world. You are a remarkable person with a remarkable talent. Anybody who would overlook you is an utter fool.”

Kazuichi reached into his pocket and pulled out a small speaker. He set it on the railing, and it began to play a soft, slow song. “Will you dance with me?” he asked shyly.

“Of course,” you smiled at him, holding out your hand for him to take.

His steps were sloppy and uncoordinated, but the feeling of his warm body in your arms made you feel safe. You wanted him to love you. Love you the way he loved Sonia, and then even more. A legendary love that would eclipse all others.

When he leaned down to kiss you, you automatically tilted you head to the side. It felt like the first time and the thousandth time all at once – something new and exciting, yet undeniably right. He grinned at you like an idiot and kept swaying with you while the song ended.

“It all feels perfect with I’m with you,” he told you. “Like it all makes sense.”

“I understand,” you smiled up at him. “I feel the same way too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He barely left your side now. He would let you work, of course, but wanted to spend his every waking hour with you. He held your hand on your walks, kissed your knuckles like a gentleman whenever he greeted you, and kissed you passionately when you were alone with him. You loved watching him light up at your presence – it was like his world began and ended with you.

His greatest joy was when he got to work with you. To see you listening carefully to his advice, offering insights of your own based on your knowledge. You worked to improve both your geothermal energy plants and plan for new mines. The number of precious stones mined this year was astronomical, and it wasn’t over yet.

Your father was impressed with the improvements he had made to the schematics he had been provided with, so he was gradually given more and more responsibility (along with his freedom, of course). Eventually, he began to receive an “allowance” as payment for the work he was doing. He spent most of it on new gadgets to tinker with or gifts for you. You would often retire to your room to find a vase full of flowers or a box of chocolates, and every time you saw them you would break out into a grin you could not stop.  

The two of you would text one another (he made himself a cellphone because he was “bored and wanted to try it”) until you fell asleep, and within those words he bared his soul. He told you about his horrific home life – about the man who had dared to harm him – and about the friends who had betrayed him. He told you how much you mattered to him, all of the things he would do for you. Give up for you.

When he told you about his father hitting him one too many times, you left your room and went to his. You just needed to hold him, make him feel safe the same way he made you feel safe.

You were glad you went when you did, because there was a woman dressed in black trying to drag him out of the window. You raised the security alarm, and she was apprehended. Mukuro Ikusaba – the Ultimate Soldier – was thrown into your actual prison, and you once more had trouble with Novoselic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You answered the door with bleary eyes, but seeing Souda’s tired smile as he mumbled about not sleeping was worth it. You used your new nickname for him – the word in your mother tongue that meant little pink rose – and he melted into your arms. You didn’t care that you were wearing your nightgown, or that it was early in the morning, you had your prince charming and he was safe, and he was yours. Yours.

“I had a nightmare,” he was curled up among your pillows, snuggled up under your blankets. “You forgot about me like she did.”

“I’m not her,” you reminded him, pressing a kiss to his forehead before resting your own against it. You could feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips, and as you let your eyes slip shut your hands found his. “I will never think of you as less than extraordinary, my darling.” You promised.

He kissed your cheek, slowly painting his way over your cheekbones and down to your lips. You responded wonderfully, one hand cupping his cheek as you kissed him slowly. You opened your eyes to see him staring at you with pure adoration. He wasn’t wearing his contacts, and his eyes were a light, rosy brown colour. Stunning.

“I love you,” the words slipped out of your mouth unbidden. You were speaking in your mother tongue now, but based on the smile he gave you and the whisper of “Ai shiteru” you got in return, he had understood. More than understood.

Your lips met his again, a strange kind of hunger filling you. He must have felt the change too, the atmosphere crackling with energy as you traced your fingers over his body. As he traced his fingers over yours.

You both stripped completely and held one another, clumsy and laughing and so in love. “Tell me if it hurts,” he had whispered to you as he stretched you open with his fingers. You had kissed him in response, a smiling sort of kiss that you hope conveyed more than a simple “I love you”.

Your lovemaking didn’t last long, but it didn’t have to to be perfect. It felt like it was right out of a fairy tale, and your prince charming was here to save you from everything bad in the world. You were here to save him, in reality, but you were more than happy to indulge him in his fantasies, so long as you could play a part in them.

When you were done, he wrapped you in his arms and placed a kiss to your temple. He hummed softly and played with your hair, whispering his love over and over again. You smiled up at him, tired but satisfied, and when you fell asleep your smile did not falter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since that night you had shared, Kazuichi had been coming to your bed every night. You would fall asleep together and wake up together and talk until you couldn’t anymore. When you weren’t talking, you were either cuddling or doing something less… innocent. Your mouth had mapped out every inch of his body, and you knew what to do to make him open like a flower. He liked letting you do what you wanted to him – liked giving over the power and control and letting you make him feel good.

He loved it when you spoke to him in your mother tongue – no matter what you said he would squirm and turn bright red.

“Do you like it when I play with your pretty cock?” you asked him lowly, and he let out a sweet moan as his legs fell open. He could tell from the sound of your voice if you were being sweet to him or not, and you could tell based on the noises he made if he wanted you to be sweet or not.

You wondered what fantasies swept him away as you mounted him. When you pinned his wrists and mouthed at his neck, you wondered why he was mewling so much. Did he even know what he was begging you for anymore, or did his mind just go blank every time you began to kiss his scars?

You learned every embarrassing detail about his body, and he learned every detail of yours. He loved to have you on him – worshipping him, taking pleasure from his body – but what he loved most were the quiet moments after.

The moments when you would roll off of him and kiss him slowly and tell him how good he was. When you would worship every scar again, tell him he was beautiful. When he’d lay his head in your lap so you could weave your fingers into his hair and hum him lullabies. He always fell asleep in your bed after you made love. It was one of the most perfect moments you ever shared, and you felt so, so lucky to have shared so many of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today you woke up alone. Novoselic had finally sent an envoy to negotiate Kazuichi’s release. Today was the day.

Last night, he had helped you pick out your gown. He had chosen a white one with ruffles designed to look like flowers – Rusika was the kingdom of roses, after all – and as your handmaidens helped you get ready, you felt powerful.

You went all out – you wore your crown jewels and covered yourself in diamonds. You did not want there to be any doubt that they were dealing with a princess and would negotiate on her terms. Your father had been surprised when you had asked for this responsibility but granted you the negotiation opportunity.

Mukuro Ikusaba was wearing several chains, including a rather nasty-looking pair of handcuffs. She was positioned in a chair facing towards your throne, and she glared at you as you took your seat.

Kazuichi arrived only a few minutes after you, and his jaw just about hit the floor as he took you in. You gave him a smile befitting a queen as your eyes roamed his body – he was wearing a finely tailored suit and a ring with your family’s crest on it. You realized then you wanted to cover him in jewels. He would look so good sparkling.

He bowed deeply before taking his place at your side, breaking you from your train of thought. It was an old Novoselic tradition for the ruler’s consort to kneel on a special stool while the monarch conducted business, but while Kazuichi did kneel on the plush cushion, he tugged it towards you so he could lie across your lap. The action startled you at first, but as he snuggled deeper into your skirts and looked up at you with a smile, your fingers came up to weave into his hair in the way he found comforting, and he closed his eyes.

That lasted for a blissful minute before the throne room’s doors burst open and Princess Sonia Nevermind was announced. Her entourage filed in with her, and Souda tilted his head to get a better view of them. You recognized Gundham, and vaguely recalled hearing about a few of the others from Kazuichi. Classmates, if you remembered correctly.

Sonia had brought the Yakuza boy and the Ultimate Swordswoman as backup. She had also brought a hulking man with matching scars over both of his eyes. This man was someone you had never heard of, yet he was flanked by the usual Novoselic military honour guard. You greeted her in your shared tongue before switching to Japanese. “Welcome. What brings you all to Rusika?” you asked.

The princess of Novoselic cleared her throat and began once more in your mother tongue. “Apologies for interrupting, Princess Nevermind, but not everybody here speaks our language. I would like to include our guests in the matters we will be discussing,” Souda shifted in your lap, and you continued playing with his hair, sitting with the elegance of a queen.

Sonia began again, in Japanese this time. “I demand you release your prisoners at once,” she pointed at you. “Keeping a soldier hired by my country to retrieve a prisoner does not reflect well on the alliance between our peoples. I would hate for a war to break out.”

You sighed. “As a show of good faith, I will release the prisoner Mukuro Ikusaba to you,” you made a gesture and a pair of guards removed her shackles. You could feel Souda playing with your ruffles. “Was that all?”

“We are here for the prisoner Kazuichi Souda,” she answered. “I demand you release him.”

“Kazuichi is not a prisoner,” you corrected. “He has full autonomy and can choose to leave anytime he would like.”

“You kidnapped him as a political prisoner!” Sonia snapped, eyes locked on him. “Do not tell me that he is doing… that of his own free will!”

You gave his shoulder a pat with the hand that had been in his hair and he blinked over at Sonia. “I have done nothing malicious towards him,” you answered. “I have not-”

“Liar!” Sonia cut in. “You must have brainwashed him with Stockholm. You truly are a woman with flexible legs!”

Kazuichi raised his head a bit. “Don’t talk to my Princess like that!” there was a certain bite to his words. You ran your fingers soothingly through his hair as he glared at Sonia. “Gundham knows as well as I do that we were never mistreated here. We were given free reign, and I just so happened to be appreciated. I’m not a second choice here. I’m not forgotten.”

Sonia looked visibly upset at his words. “We did not forget you!” she assured him.

“You rescued Gundham after a month? A few weeks?” Kazuichi was bristling. “I’ve been here for eight. Eight months and you didn’t even bother to see if I was okay.” Sonia watched Kazuichi lie back down. “Excuse me for being happy. I forgot you don’t like it when I’m too overbearing with my affection.” He shifted around for comfort, burying his face in the crook of his elbow before tilting it out to the crowd.

“Is he truly able to leave anytime he wants?” Gundham asked.

“I am,” Kazuichi bristled once again. “I’ve got a job and everything.”

Sonia said your name. No title, just your name. “I would like to speak with you in private, future monarch to future monarch,” she was clenching her hands into fists.

“I’ll allow it,” you gave Kazuichi a gentle pat on the shoulder and he reluctantly pulled away. You stood, and he stood with you. He followed you down from your throne, and as you escorted Sonia towards your study you noticed Kazuichi was making a beeline for Gundham.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you were alone again, the first thing Kazuichi did was help you out of your dress. He was careful as he unlaced your corset, and as he helped you step out of it. He even hung it up properly so it wouldn’t get damaged. Then he was kissing you like he was about to lose you, pulling your body close and pulling you into his arms. He carried you over to the bed and tossed you into it, discarding his own clothes haphazardly as he followed.

“I love you,” he told you assuredly. “And nothing is ever going to change that. Not a single thing they say will convince me otherwise.”

You smiled at his words. “And I love you too, my little pink rose,” you gave him a deep, longing kiss.

It didn’t matter what the others thought or said. It didn’t matter what they did. All that mattered was what you and Souda thought. Souda was here with you. Souda loved you.

And no matter who decided to challenge that, they couldn’t take him away from you.

#danganronpa #super danganronpa 2 #kazuichi souda #kazuichi soda #kazuichi souda x reader #kazuichi soda x reader #kazuichi x reader #sonia nevermind #gundham tanaka #reader insert #princess reader #memeadonna

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 21

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

THE NEXT DAY

THRYMR’S TOMB

“They’re here, my lord.” The messenger said from the doorway, awaiting his king’s response.

Kjotve chuckled and lounged in his chair, allowing his feet to rest on the war table before him.

“Of course they are. It was only a matter of time.” He went quiet for a moment, sliding a rock along the blade of his battle-axe. “...Is Gorm with them?”

The messenger’s gaze shifted to the floor. “N-No, my lord.”

The other man didn’t seem surprised. “I expected as much. That boy was dead the minute he allowed himself to fall into their hands. They’ve likely hammered his head on a pike already.” Kjotve sighed and set the rock down, leaning forward in his seat. “No matter. We’ll manage without him. How many people are we dealing with?”

“It’s an army, my lord. Both the Raven and Bear clans are here. They’re attacking the fort from the southern half of the island. Sigurd Styrbjornson is leading the charge. Dag is nowhere to be found though.”

Kjotve nodded to himself, quickly formulating a plan in his head. “He’s probably dead. I knew something was amiss when Dag’s reports came to a sudden halt.”

He rose from the chair and stretched his arms, resting the axe’s hilt on his shoulder. “Tell our men to prepare for war, and make sure everyone is ready. If Sigurd loses this battle, the power of the entire kingdom will shift, and his family will lose their claim to the throne. He won’t accept defeat easily. We’ll have to throw everything we have at him.”

The messenger bowed. “Of course, my lord.”

Kjotve began striding towards the door. “In the meantime, I think I should get a look at this ‘army’ for myself. I’ve never known The Raven Clan to be a formidable opponent, but they’re not an enemy to be underestimated. Keep your eyes sharp, and your axe at hand. This isn’t going to end smoothly.”

~~~~~~~~~~

MEANWHILE

THRYMR’S TOMB, SOUTHERN HALF

“Heave!” Sigurd bellowed, his voice towering over all the commotion.

The Raven Clan let out a unanimous shout and rushed forward with the battering ram, gripping the mechanism so tightly that their knuckles turned white. The wooden planks of the bridge groaned underneath their weight as they charged towards the fort, trembling from the footsteps of a hundred warriors.

Meanwhile, the Bear Clan marched alongside them and formed a shield wall around their allies, taking the brunt of any arrows that came raining down from the battlements. A series of thunderous war chants echoed from the sea of raiders flooding the gates, and within moments, they were already bashing it down.

“Heave!” Sigurd commanded once again, urging them to charge. The warriors took a few steps back and pulled the ram into position, holding it in place before letting it swing.

The front of the mechanism immediately broke free from their grasp and soared into the braces holding the gate together, causing an array of splinters to fly from the surface.

A few of the supports could be seen bending in the face of the ram’s power, and by now, a unit of Kjotve’s men had gathered on the other side, preparing to welcome the incoming horde of enemies.

Before Sigurd could carry out a final charge however, the shadows of multiple archers blotted the ground beneath his feet like phantoms emerging from the night, drawing his attention to the line of arrows growing above. He gazed upwards into the sun’s blinding light, and yelled another command.

“Shield wall!”

Upon hearing the order, the Bear Clan instantly got into formation and locked their shields together, creating a shimmering shell above their companions. A wave of arrows came bolting down soon after, and rapidly buried the army below under a hurricane of metal.

A number of Sigurd’s warriors were shot dead within seconds despite their attempt to deflect the attack, and much to his dismay, the battering ram suddenly found itself short of some men. The surviving raiders pushed on with any energy they had left and stepped over the handful of scattered corpses now littering the bridge, bringing the ram one step closer to success.

Taking advantage of the opening that followed the archers’ assault, the Raven Clan drew the ram back to its starting point and awaited their prince’s command, keeping the mechanism raised with a Herculean amount of strength.

“Heave!” Sigurd ordered one last time, signaling his men to rush forward. They tightened their grip and practically hurled the ram into the gate, shattering the remains of the barricade into pieces. Shards of wood violently erupted from the site of impact, and shortly after, the Raven Clan was storming the entrance.

“Find Kjotve!” The prince roared. “And send that argr dog into the jaws of Garmr himself!”

Barreling into the fort with a symphony of war cries, the Bear and Raven Clans began tearing through Kjotve’s men like a legion from Hel, cutting down anything in sight as if the spirit of Thor had possessed their very minds.

The sound of axes clashing rang across the battlefield like the shrill voice of a valravn and colored the air with mayhem, drowning out the agonized shrieks echoing from Kjotve’s army.

Meanwhile, Sigurd took hold of his longsword and jumped into the tempest swirling around him, butchering foes left and right in a haze of fury. 

All of his bottled-up rage, grief, and pain came pouring out in every strike, and soon enough, he resembled the man who visited Ingrida in her dreams. His eyes practically glowed with the sparks of a vengeful flame, and it didn’t take long for the god of war to start shining through his actions.

He no longer felt any fear; any doubt. The only thing that guided Sigurd’s axe now was the desire to honor those who had fallen. Thora, Dag, Ulfar, Eirik -- this was for all of them. This was to ensure that their deaths wouldn’t be in vain. This... was for his clan.

“Aarrgh!” A familiar voice shouted, causing Sigurd to glance to his side. 

In the distance, he spotted none other than Eivor himself burying an axe into the chest of an enemy raider, baring his teeth like a feral beast on the hunt. His eyes had been pried open by claws of adrenaline, and it was clear from the blood splatters staining his armor that he had already taken down his fair share of Kjotve’s men.

What the young warrior didn’t notice however, was the raider sneaking up from behind him.

“Eivor!” Sigurd exclaimed, dashing in his direction. “Behind you!”

The prince raised his sword in the air and slammed it downwards with an adamant amount of force, practically knocking the enemy’s head right off their shoulders. They dropped to the ground in an instant, and sank lifelessly into the mounds of snow.

Eivor took a moment to catch his breath, still processing the swift chain of events.

“...Thank you, Sigurd,” he said through labored breathing. The older man offered his hand and helped the blonde viking up to his feet, keeping an eye out for anymore men that may have been skulking in his blind spot.

“Don’t mention it.” He flicked his eyes around a bit. “Have you seen any sign of Kjotve?”

Eivor shook his head. “Not yet, and I doubt he’ll reveal himself anytime soon. He’s probably somewhere in the fort, using his men as a shield.”

“Then let’s make sure he has none to hide behind.” Sigurd stepped away from his lover, gesturing to the rest of the battlefield. “I’ll stay here and fight alongside our warriors. You focus on finding Kjotve. We cannot let him escape a second time.”

“Of course. Oh, and Sigurd?”

The prince paused. “Yes?”

Eivor’s expression softened with affection. “...Please, be careful.”

Sigurd returned the sentiment. “You as well, love. I’m not leaving this fort without you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

Sprinting across the reddened snow like a madman, Eivor charged through the war-weathered fort as he searched for Kjotve, trying to ignore all the chaos surrounding him. Everywhere on the battlefield, the young man saw nothing but men and women from both sides falling to their knees in defeat, quivering in the presence of death.

Their anguished cries blurred together in Eivor’s ears, and their bodies began to topple over like trees being cut down. Not a shred of honor or bravery graced the morbid scene before him, and instead of finding glory, he found no more than a desperate desire to cling onto life.

It reminded him of when he was a child. Everything was identical to that horrid night when his parents died, and the sound of Kjotve’s name only enhanced the vividness of the awful memories he carried. He felt like the exact same boy who had fled from that ruined village -- only this time -- there was no one to save him.

He was alone... and so was Kjotve.

Taking a moment to gather his composure, Eivor strengthened his resolve and firmly held onto Varin’s axe, marching directly into the hellish atmosphere ahead. Foes of all sorts blocked his path with a multitude of threats -- including arrows and fire -- but none were enough to scare him off. 

No matter how vicious their bite, or how large their shadow, Eivor refused to waver. He had spent so long trying to find Kjotve in this realm of ice and blood, that absolutely nothing would stop him anymore.

He came here to put an end to this war, and he would.

“Where are you, Kjotve?!” Eivor roared, prowling through the embers. “Come out and fight me! I know you’re there!”

Stomping through bedlam, the young warrior wildly swung his axe at the raiders standing in his way and struck them down one by one, stopping at nothing to find the man who had hunted him for all these years. His thoughts raced with the struggles he had endured to reach this point, and the voices of those he’d lost continued to sing in his head, urging him to keep going.

A primitive fear of death wracked the very core of his soul, but even then, Eivor couldn’t bring himself to retreat. A newfound defiance had been bred in his heart despite the dangers ahead, and in a strange way, his fear pushed him further.

“I will find you!” The Wolf-Kissed bellowed at the top of his lungs, lodging his axe into an enemy’s neck. “You think you can hide forever? You’ve taken my home, my parents, my sister, my honor! You no longer have any power over me!”

He carved his way through yet another group of foes and let out a ferocious shout, bashing his axe with so much force that sparks danced off the blade upon impact. By now, there was nothing but a trail of corpses lying in Eivor’s wake, and in the distance, he could see an all-too-familiar silhouette gazing down at him from the battlements above.

They didn’t move a muscle, nor did they say a word. They simply stood there in silence, watching as the tension in their kingdom finally reached a breaking point. The battle-axe on their shoulder was enough to tell Eivor who it was, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop when they made eye contact with each other. 

They both knew why the Wolf-Kissed was there. They both knew what he wanted. Even though they had spent decades straying from the fire Kjotve sparked all those years ago, they had finally found their way back to one another, ready to guide this saga to a close.

Strolling away from the battlements, Kjotve turned on his heel and began heading down the stairs, beckoning Eivor to follow him outside the fort. It didn’t look like he had any additional men in his company, and for the first time since their initial encounter, the younger man didn’t get the impression that this was a trap.

They were both eager to bid farewell to this lifelong rivalry. The Nornir had planned for this day all along, and soon enough, the ending to their story would be scrawled in blood. The only question that remained -- was who would provide the ink.

~~~~~~~~~~

OUTSIDE THE FORT

THRYMR’S TOMB, NORTHERN HALF

Treading carefully through the gathering storm, Eivor approached Kjotve from behind as the older man awaited his arrival, quietly taking in the view of the crumbling fort. Despite being outside its walls, the two of them could still hear the sounds of battle seeping through the cracks of its weathered stone, howling from beyond the veil of snow.

It was like a different world out here. Not a single soul disturbed the barren landscape, and the merciless weather had almost wiped out the scene of the war entirely. Only Eivor and Kjotve stood on the icy plates of Thrymr’s Tomb, and if they listened hard enough, they could practically hear the gods calling out to them, whispering in a tongue that evaded their comprehension. They were alone in this place, and somehow, the idea of that brought comfort to Eivor’s nerves.

They had an arena all to themselves, and that was just the way Eivor liked it.

“Here I am.” He announced, stopping in his tracks. The island’s river lay not too far away from him, filling his ears with the sound of rushing water.

Kjotve turned around at the greeting, giving his opponent no more than a glance. “...Here you are.”

The Wolf-Kissed took a few steps closer, careful not to provoke him just yet. “You waited for the enemy with your back turned to them? I can’t tell if it’s courage or hubris that drives you.”

A chuckle fluttered from Kjotve’s lips. “For all your flaws, Eivor, I know how much you value honor. You wouldn’t attack a man from his back.”

Eivor’s brow furrowed in anger. “...But you would.”

“A trait of mine that many look down on, no doubt. And yet, here I am, one step away from conquering the entire kingdom. There is no honor to be found in war, so I don’t bother with it.”

Kjotve took hold of his weapon. “But enough. We didn’t come here for idle chatter. You’re here for one thing and one thing only. Aren’t you, Varinsson?”

Eivor felt something spur inside him at the sound of his father’s name. “...Let’s bring an end to this, Kjotve. Enough running. Enough fighting. Just you... and me.”

“Eager as always. So be it. You’ve been a thorn in my side for long enough. I’ll gladly send you to the Corpse Hall. It’s just a shame that you won’t be able to see your father again, isn’t it?” He displayed a small smirk. “The price of honor, I suppose.”

Gripping the hilt of his axe with both hands, Kjotve slowly readied his stance and locked eyes with Eivor, watching him like a beast studying its prey. Meanwhile, the younger man began circling his opponent and held his weapon out in front of him, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The world around them was still with a deathly silence. 

It seemed as if the very heavens had come to a halt to witness the grand spectacle, and even the ocean itself had fallen into a trance-like serenity. There was nothing to distract them, or divert their senses, and the battle at the fort had long since departed from their minds.

The gods had finally granted Eivor his chance to reclaim Varin’s honor, and he didn’t intend to waste it.

Lunging forward with a sudden surge of vigor, the young warrior landed a number of blows on Kjotve’s armor before springing back and evading the counter-attack that followed, forcing him to roll across the ground.

He pushed himself off the ice and quickly returned to his feet, whirling around to face the giant striding towards him.

In the blink of an eye, Kjotve heaved his axe above his shoulders and slammed the bearded weapon down onto the snow, missing Eivor’s head by no more than a few centimeters.

The blonde viking jumped to the side and used the opening to swing his axe at Kjotve’s face, causing the blade to slice straight through the lobe of his ear. Blood instantly came pouring down from the wound and onto the fur of the king’s cape, painting the hairs with a vibrant layer of red. A handful of droplets also plummeted to the ground beneath, marking Kjotve’s every move with a fresh trail of blood.

As for Eivor, he carried on with his assault and relentlessly threw one attack after another, refusing to give his enemy the chance to breathe. Unfortunately for him, a man of Kjotve’s stature was not so easily bested, and the Wolf-Kissed soon found himself on the receiving end of a direct hit from the other man’s weapon.

The gargantuan axe bludgeoned Eivor in the stomach and sent him soaring backwards, causing the wind to be knocked out of his lungs. Thanks to his armor, the blade didn’t make contact with his flesh, but he had still been struck with enough force that his abdomen now writhed in pain.

He stumbled for a moment due to the sensation and attempted to regain his footing, only to be kicked back down when Kjotve jabbed the tip of his boot into his gut. The king then proceeded to bash Eivor’s axe out of his hand by punting it from his grasp, allowing it to slide across the frozen terrain.

“Heh,” Kjotve said with a laugh. “Is that the best Varin’s son has to offer? All these years of tracking me down, and you’ve already been rendered defenseless.” He tilted his head in a patronizing manner. “I almost pity you.”

In spite of the soreness now spreading throughout his body, Eivor simply responded to the taunt with a feral war cry and yanked a dagger from one of the sheathes on his back, plunging the blade into Kjotve’s foot.

The king instantly roared in agony and toppled to his knees, unable to ignore the newfound pain now clutching his leg. Eivor tackled him to the ground as soon as he was staggered and climbed on top of him, desperately trying to press the dagger into his throat.

Due to his lighter physique however, Kjotve easily shoved the weapon away from his neck and pushed Eivor off of him with a punch to the cheek, creating a small distance between them. Eivor took this opportunity to retrieve his axe and returned to his feet, assuming his original stance. Not too far away from him, Kjotve did the same -- only now -- he had been cursed with a limp.

“...You won’t kill me that easily.” Eivor panted out, his breath turning into mist. “I’ve fought for too long to let you walk away now. Even if I die for it, this war will end today. You won’t leave this island alive.”

Kjotve sighed and approached the wounded viking, using his axe as a support.

“Ah... just like your mother. Fighting til the very end. An admirable mindset to have, but one doomed to end in futility nonetheless.” He straightened his posture, clenching his jaw in pain. “You’ll fall, Eivor. You, your clan, your king... you’ll all join Varin and Rosta soon enough. And then, Norway will be united under one crown -- mine.”

Trudging in Eivor’s direction, Kjotve carried on with his pursuit despite the injury he had just sustained and prepared to finish the other man off, prowling towards him with bloodlust in his gaze.

Just as the two of them resumed the fight however, a sudden growl reached their ears, leading them to come to a pause. They diverted their attention to the blizzard surrounding them and fell silent, trying to peer through the wintry fog.

For a while, there was nothing. No footsteps, no figures, no movement. Not even a shadow. 

The environment appeared just the same as before, and after a few moments of waiting, Eivor began to wonder if the disruptive sound had just been a trick of the mind.

Before his doubts could fully settle in though, the sound of a raven’s caw abruptly pierced through the air, echoing across the land like a summon from the gods. Synin herself emerged from the sky and started gliding down towards her companion, rescuing him just like she did when he was a child.

Perplexed by her arrival, Eivor stared at Synin in shock and watched as she soared over his head, vanishing into the storm beyond. At first, he didn’t understand the meaning behind her intervention or what she hoped to accomplish, but once she departed from the island, it all made sense.

Out of nowhere, a pack of white wolves leapt out from behind the fog and charged towards the barbarian king, allured by the scent of his blood. Their fangs glimmered viciously with ropes of saliva, and their eyes swelled at the sight of their next meal.

“What the--?!” Kjotve exclaimed in surprise, brandishing his axe at them. “Where’d you come from? Stay back!”

Pouncing on Kjotve, the wolves overwhelmed the colossal king in spite of his attempts to fend them off and immediately started tearing at his flesh, thrashing him around like a rag doll. The growing discomfort in his foot caused him to collapse to the ground, and before he knew it, the feral beasts were feasting on him without mercy.

Initially, Eivor felt a sense of relief upon seeing the wolves finish his job for him, but after a while, there was a certain emotion building up in his chest that he just couldn’t suppress. The sheer amount of agony behind Kjotve’s screams was enough to shake him to the core, and surprisingly, he found himself beginning to pity the man.

Eivor hadn’t forgotten what it was like to be attacked by a wolf. Despite the fact that he had carried his scar for over a decade, the terror of that night still remained vivid in his head. 

He may have hated Kjotve with every fiber of his being, but even then, it was difficult for him to condemn someone to such a torturous death. Humanity was a trait often lost during war, and the last thing Eivor wanted was to lose his own.

He had come here to reclaim his father’s honor. To restore peace. 

The suffering of others was something he wished to end -- and it all started now.

Rushing towards the wolves, Eivor waved his axe at the beasts and threatened them with a series of shouts, hoping to distract them from Kjotve. At first, they merely challenged his actions and growled in response, but were easily scared off once it became clear he wasn’t backing down.

Waiting for them to clear the area, Eivor guarded Kjotve until the wolves disappeared from his sight completely, and kept his eyes sharp for any other animals that may have been roaming around. The wolves didn’t show any signs of coming back to finish their meal, and for the time being, it was just the two of them again.

As for the fallen king, he had been transformed into nothing but the mauled scraps of an abandoned feast, and left in a pool of his own blood. Bits of bone could be seen peeking through his skin, and his hands trembled both out of shock and pain.

Eivor gazed down at the ghastly sight, unable to hide his disgust.

“Your breath hasn’t faltered yet.” He said, admittedly impressed by Kjotve’s survival.

The other man whimpered, croaking out a short reply. “...You... you saved me. Why? D-Didn’t want the wolves... to claim your prize...?”

The young warrior shook his head. “You mistake my mercy for malice. I may despise you for everything you’ve taken from me... but it is not my place to carry out your judgement.”

Kjotve scoffed. “...Then... whose is it?”

Eivor knelt beside his enemy, looking directly into his eyes. “Wherever you go from here, it is the gods who will determine your fate. The only thing I can do... is send you to them. You’ll die as you lived. Without honor.”

He positioned his axe under Kjotve’s chin, eager to finish this once and for all.

“Goodbye, Kjotve. This world will be better off without you.”

Yanking the blade across his throat, Eivor executed the king in one swift move and freed him from his suffering, watching as the life drained from his soul. His body fell limp soon after the killing blow, and a final breath escaped from his lips.

...Eivor could scarcely believe it.

Kjotve was dead.

Kjotve was actually dead.

After countless years of grief, loss, and sacrifice... the war had finally come to an end. Just like that.

There were no cheers of excitement, or horns of fanfare. There was only the deafening silence that had been left behind by the dead.

Was this truly what victory felt like, Eivor wondered? Was this that glorious moment that had been spun in so many tales, and sung by every bard?

He didn’t feel like a hero, nor did he feel any pride. All he felt was a blossom of relief like none other, and the crushing weight of endless regrets. 

A beam of contentment was starting to shine in his heart now that Kjotve had officially been slain, and Eivor didn’t wish to spend anymore time on this forsaken island. The only thing he longed for was the warmth of Sigurd’s embrace... but he didn’t even know if the man still lived.

Wandering away from Kjotve’s corpse, Eivor left the king buried in the ice and allowed the gods to take him from Midgard, not even sparing a second glance. A wave of memories flooded his head as he drifted back to the fort, and for just a second, he could’ve sworn he saw his parents watching him from across the river.

Eivor had no doubt that their appearance was merely a result of the battle’s ordeals, but even in his dazed state, he was able to make out the faint figures of both his parents.

They were standing side-by-side, wrapped in each other’s arms and observing Eivor as he made his way back to the clan. They didn’t move, they didn’t speak -- all they did was gaze at him from behind the curtains of snow. 

It was almost as if they wished to tell him that their spirits were finally at peace. They had endured a lifetime of torment trapped in Helheim’s depths thanks to Kjotve’s betrayal, and now, they could sleep, forever in each other’s company just as they were in life.

Eivor’s job was done at last, and he could move on from the grief that had burdened him for so long.

“...I did it, father.” He whispered, watching as the mysterious figures faded from his vision. 

“You’re free.”

#hjarta #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #eivor wolfsmal #eivor wolfkissed #male eivor #eivor varinsson #sigurd styrbjornson #sigurd x male eivor #ac valhalla fanfic

[mae-gi-writes]

And You Should Live | Changmin/Q [Part Two]

Athlete Changmin au! In which you and Changmin teach each other how to live again.

Genre: angst, tearjerker, fluff

Part One | Part Two

--

The few months that the ex-athlete spends confined in hospital are definitely some of the most challenging weeks you've had by far. It takes patience and acceptance of his new body, of the way that he is now going to live his life, and it's easier said than done. A psychiatrist checks up on him every week but his complaints are verbal and abusive, not one to hide his discontentment. There is no sign of his father, though his mother drops in once a week at most to bring some spare clothes and wheedle a few responses out of him, in vain.

He cries the first time he sees himself in the mirror, hair all dishevelled, stubble forming over his chin, skin all grey and pale from months of no sunshine. And you stand behind him that day, heart breaking in tine with his as the pained sobs falling from his mouth bounced throughout the room. He cries without relent this time as your hands tighten their grip on the handles of his wheelchair, helpless to his pain and desperate to somehow make it right in any way possible.

The next day, you bustle in with a comb, some shaving cream and a pair of scissors. 

“No,” is Changmin’s reaction, as with everything you’ve once introduced to him. You’re now used to his reticence and instead shove his hands away from you, a measley attempt to stop your advances. Instead, you threaten to attach his arms at his sides if he doesn’t cooperate and with a few more grumbles under his breath, he settles back against his pillow like a sulky child. 

“I can’t believe this,” he mumbles through closed lips as you dabble some shaving cream over his face. Mind you, you’ve definitely never done this on a man before and so you dip your head closer to his face, teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you focus on spreading the cream evenly across his jawline.

"I swear, Y/N, if you cut me--”

“Oh shush,” you wave his protests away before drawing out the razor you’ve slipped into your pocket. Then, you gingerly lean down once more to slowly slide the device at the edge of his jaw. 

Feeling his orbs on your face, you can’t help but spare him a quick glance only for your eyes. They’re dark maroon, so dark you can barely make out his pupils from his irises, and they reflect an intensity that somehow makes your insides squirm and your heart to speed up--

“Ouch!” he cries out and you jump back in surprise, eyes flying wide open with panic, “fuck! Did I hurt you?!” You dab at his skin in search of a cut, “shit, I’m so sorry--”

Changmin’s giggle bursts through his mouth and it takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s only pulling your leg. Your hands drop to your sides in growing annoyance, “you!--”

“Sorry, it was all too obvious that you’ve never did this before,” Changmin’s eyes crinkle up into crescents. It might be the first time you’ve seen him laugh with such purity, and you can’t help but stare at the dimple forming on his cheeks, at the way his whole face lights up like a Christmas tree.

And then, you blink and let out an exasperated sigh before you shove his shoulder, “you’re such a dick,” you mutter as you resume shaving him. 

“Sorry,” he keeps on giggling, “you should’ve seen your face.”

"Keep that up and I’ll make sure you have no hair left on your scalp.”

You decide to move on to his hair a few days later just as he is being wheeled back in by the said psychiatrist. You bow to him, cheeks involuntarily rising when his gaze meets yours, a tender smile dancing across his lips.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Y/N,” he says.

“You’re the one who’s always busy, Sangyeon,” you grin back.

“Ah yeah. Especially during exams season. A lot of students drop by,” Sangyeon nods at Changmin, “well, I’ve leave you two to it then. Maybe we can catch up over coffee sometime Y/N.” 

“That’d be great!” 

You don’t realize that you’ve still got a stupid smile on your face until Changmin lets out a snort, “you look ridiculous.” 

Scowling back at him, you lift the scissors up threateningly, “keep talking and I will make you bald, Changmin.” 

" You like him? He's such a dork," Changmin continues without relent as you wheel him to the washroom, " And you know what? He smells really bad if he doesn't wear perfume."

"And how would you, of all people, know that?" your fingers comb back his hair to tie it up into sections, eyes clashing with his in the bathroom mirror.

"Because I smelt him once when he came from the gym."

" That's just how humans work," you retort with a Scoff," also, I don't think you should be the one to talk, considering you were an athlete."

"That's different! I was training!"

" You're not denying the fact that you smell bad too though, without deodorant."

"Oh yeah?" He sniffs, "well I ain't got any deodorant now. Smell me, go on."

His statement is so outrageously crazy that you burst out laughing and soon enough he joins in so that you giggle like two schoolchildren sharing mischievous secrets. Ruffling your fingers through his hair and combing it through with water, your fingers proceed to measure how much hair to chip off.

" can I trust you with that?" doubt coats Changmin's voice.

You scoff in return as a large clump cascades down his shoulders and makes him yelp, " Don't worry, I won't murder you. If that's what you were thinking about."

" Well I can't help but think about that now."

The blossoming friendship is inevitable. After all, you were almost the same age and had fallen into a complicity, having spent so much time together. So much so tha the man would outrightly refuse anyone else's help albeit the fact that you had only told him good things about your colleagues.

When his discharge came around - a little too soon for your liking if you were being honest with yourself- he'd requested for your presence on the evening before his departure, where you had brought along some cookies that your little brother had made the night before.

"I can't eat that," Changmin crinkles his nose, acting exactly like one of those pompous arrogant kids that had more money in their wallet than they had brains.

You push it towards him nevertheless, "just try it."

" I told you, I can't eat that."

" Why not?"

"Because-" his words die halfway through his throat in realization and it dawns on you that it's probably something to do with his previous diet.

But you don't have time to find a proper response before his hand snatches one cookie up and shoves it in his mouth, head turned away to avoid your concerned gaze.

" It's good," is his response after a beat of silence, and you smile.

"So what do you plan on doing when you get home?" you lean your head onto your palm, a soft yawn falling from your mouth.

" Haven't figured that out yet. Probably lie around feeling sorry for myself," he shrugs nonchalantly, but you know it's far from that, " smoke up. I never got the chance to try. Might as well start now."

You find yourself rolling your eyes at him. Then, out of the blue, he suddenly catches you off guard.

" You always ask me about myself. But now that I think about it," he tilts his head sideway. curious," I don't know much about you. Actually, I don't know you at all."

That's it. That's the moment your heart constricts and your throat closes up so that you choke on air. You don't look at him, quickly finding interest in the mold growing at the corner of the room while you mutter out that there is nothing to tell.

You know he's not dumb enough to fall for your lie, because he repeats the question, a glowing glint of curiosity in his eye.

So you tell him. In the simplest words possible, you tell him. About how normal you are, really normal. About your average grades, your small group of friends, your family of five that you cherish with all your heart. And about the scars that line up your thighs like a row of soldiers, the time where you had almost given your life away due to the unexplainable sadness consuming you from the inside.

When you're done you can barely look at him. Your hands find comfort in the folds of your white nurse pants and suddenly you can feel the scars glowing with heat, searing hot against your now sweaty palms.

It's still as fragile as ice to be talking about this memory in particular, and you're not even sure why you've suddenly divulged it all to the man sitting before you.

"That explains a lot."

Your eyes flutter up to his, surprised at his statement.

His gaze is strong as he holds yours, " about the way you care about people... about me."

" I know what it's like," comes your mumble," to suffer in silence."

A comfortable silence fills the gap in the room and despite the chilly coldness of the walls, your cheeks feel warm, entire body suddenly bathed in heat as a result of Changmin's subtle compliment.

Which is why you almost yelp when heat engulfs your hand. Blinking down just in time to feel Changmin's fingers give yours a gentle squeeze, your heart suddenly grows twice-fold through your chest.

" Thank you," you look up at him as he murmurs and you swore his face has never seemed so gentle.

"You don't -" your throat runs dry, " there's no need to thank me. It's not something to be thankful for."

"Oh don't go all poetic on me," Changmin rolls his eyes though his hand, you notice, makes no move to retract.

Not that you mind.

" You'll still visit," you chew on the inside of your cheek as gently, Oh so gently, his thumb starts a slow brush against your knuckles, "right?"

His orbs crinkle into a soft smile when you peek at his face, " Missing me already? Y/N, you used to hate my guts."

You mutter that you still do, which earns you a playful shove before another round of laughter ensues. And then he’s pulling you into his chest in a hug that leaves your insides tingling and your body suddenly erupting as if a troop of butterflies have decided to make their way from the top of your head down to the tip of your toes. And though you know that tomorrow will never be the same, you try to hold on to the warmth blossoming over your heart and the delicious fuzzy scramble inside your stomach that makes smiling a little easier.

He tucks your head underneath his chin, hands coming up to stroke your back in comforting circles. It’s a friendly hug, no doubt, one that is as innocent as the baby born a few seconds ago in the adjacent room. Yet, you wonder whether Changmin can hear how fast, how hard your heart is beating at this very instant.

You pull back slowly after a moment while averting your gaze, your hands still entangled together like a flurry of mixed-up jigsaw puzzles that somehow fit so right. 

"Here," taking your hand in his before motioning towards the pen attached to his medical clipboard, you watch as he scribbles a bunch of numbers," Now you have my number. So you have no excuse."

"Is that a threat?" you can't help but smile.

He grins back, dimple showing, " if that's what it takes to make you talk to me."

-♡-

Your shifts at the hospital without Changmin are void and empty now that he's gone. The first time you walk in to see an unfamiliar face in the space that Changmin was supposed to be, something almost akin to pain twists inside your chest and you swivel around almost instantly, excusing yourself as bile crawls up your throat.

It's normal, this is what hospital life is about. You constantly meet people, bond with them, only to have them walk out the door as abruptly as they had come.

And yet, there's a sense of haunted expectation that follows you around Wherever you go, as if you're bound to eventually bump into the said man at any moment. Sometimes, you catch yourself getting glimpses of his face amongst the crowd. One might have his nose, or the same undercut he sports ( the result of yours truly 's doing) or even the same tonal inflection that gathers your hopes up, only for it to deflate once you realize it's not him. It never is.

You cave in one night as you gaze at the array of numbers that will bring you to his voice, deciding on impulse as your fingers fly across the keyboard.

"Hello?"

His voice is deeper than in your memories, rough, like he's just awoken.

Your fingers tighten onto the device, "Hey. Remember me?"

You hear a sharp intake of breath, "It took you this long to call?” he accuses and you can already picture the narrow-eyed stare he throws you, that some glower that you always laugh at instead of being offended.

That becomes your new normal, calling him day and night and in-between shifts. Sometimes he’d send you messages during the day, little highlights of what he does. He tells you about how his parents are literally breathing down his neck every second of the day, how his rehab sessions are getting harder and harder that he almost wishes he could give it all up. He doesn’t mention going out or meeting friends, and something inside you can’t help but twist in concern at his dismissive tone. 

"How about prosthetics?” you ask unsurely, fearful that he’ll retract back into his shell the moment you mention it.

And you’re right. He’s quiet for a few long seconds that pass by like an eternity. So you hurriedly add, “you don’t have to answer that. It’s not my problem after all--”

“I have,” he cuts you off, “spoken to my physiotherapist about it.” 

Your chest gives a small lurch of anticipation, unconsciously pressing the device closer to your ear, “what did he say?” 

“He thinks I still need a little bit more strength. I used to train everyday, so all my muscles were suddenly atrophied the first few months I spent in hospital,” Changmin replied as he shifted on the other end of the receiver, “but if I keep it up, he said he’d send in a request for me to be on the waiting list.” 

“That’s wonderful Changmin!” Hope flared through your chest and warmed your heart as though you’ve just drank a cup of warm tea, the grin on your face almost as bright as the sun itself, “oh that’s good news! Maybe you’ll be able to walk again! Maybe--” 

“It’s not that easy,” Changmin hurriedly says in response and is it your imagination or does he sound a little...embarrassed? “I mean, even with the prosthetics, he said it would take some time for my own body to adjust.” 

While you haven’t seen his face for so long, there is a sense of comfort that washes over you whenever you speak to the said ex-athlete. It’s like this silent cord of communication that comes to life whenever you talk and laugh and giggle about life in general. You find yourself craving for his phone calls every day, your heart dropping in disappointment when he tells your that he’s too busy, only to flutter in exhilaration whenever you see his name flashing across your phone screen. It’s bad, that your happiness depends on a young man who’s clearly already starting to build his own life away from you, away from those damned hospital walls that everyone hates so much, but while your mind keeps on reminding you that maybe it would be wiser to take a step back, your heart aches to hear Changmin’s soft alto, if that’s the only thing that will soothe over the pain of his absence.

"So now that you’re out of the hospital, you don’t even visit?” you once tell him off. It’s true, that he has not dropped by once over the past five months after being discharged. 

Guilt resonates in his voice when he answers, “sorry, Y/N. I’ve-- I’ve been busy. And my parents--you know, they’re not that keen for me to go around by myself yet.” 

You tut at him but decide to let it go. The only memory you have of his parents is the one conversation that haunts you till this day forth. You can’t imagine how it must feel to live in a home where the ones who supposedly love you the most are the ones who believe you’ve lot your ability to walk just to spite them.

October slowly moves in to November, before November falls right into December, who trickles in with the gift of snowfall. You catch yourself gazing out of the window at the slowly drifting snowflakes more often times than not, the sense of melancholy bringing you back to your school days whenever you spot young children playing in the yard. Patients come and go, ones that you get along with, ones that are still a pain in the butt up until they’re getting discharged. Soon, you count the days till your internship is going to be over and dread slowly fills you at the prospect of having to go back to school, to go back to the life of book and spending countless hours cooped up in the library. 

Your friends throw a party on the eve of Christmas, but when you invite Changmin to come along, he is quick to dismiss your invitation with an excuse that he’ll feel like the butt of a joke and besides, who wants to sit there and watch all of you have fun on the skating rink? 

“But I’ll stay with you,” your protests are drowned out by him adamantly shaking his head, the shadow on his face evident even in the pixelated screen of the video call. 

“No way,” his jaw clenches, “no way. I’m not going out there just so that people can feel sorry for me.” 

“Okay,” you pause, “but Changmin, we haven’t seen each other since you got discharged. What happened to us meeting each other often and keeping in touch?” 

“We are keeping in touch,” he protests even when his eyes slide away from the screen.

You shake your head with a sigh, “fine. Be that way. I’m just trying here, but that’s not a one-way street,” and you cut the call before waiting for his answer.

Mood ruined, you are clearly not in your right state of mind the moment you show up at the skating rink. Still, you make an effort. And with your friends’ naked excitement and jovial cheerfulness, it’s hard to keep sulking in a corner. The lights hanging over the trees adorning the skating rink are twinkling red and gold and shimmering green, bouncing off the ice and creating such a magical atmosphere that it is hard to keep the grin from breaking across your face. 

Until Chanhee, one of the mutual friends that had tagged along, tugs you away to give you a gift. You blink down at it, confused as to why this young m decked with numerous admirers --  was giving you a gift as though you knew each other.

He seems to read what’s on your mind, for he quickly lifts his hands in surrender, “It’s from Changmin. The one from the track team?”

The name clogs up the back of your throat. Changmin?

“You--” Your mind reels in shock. You blink, “you know him?” 

“Not really. He just dropped by, said to give this to you.” 

"What?" You swivel around to scan the perimeter, "where? Where is he?"

"He's not here--"

But you are already halfway across the rink, striding with such purposeful speed that no one has decency to stop you as you hurry, legs burning with effort, until you turn on the corner of the road.

Nothing.

Your chest heaves. He was here, you know he was. He just doesn't want to see you.

That thought alone makes your heart ache.

When you get back home to finally open his present that night, your breath catches in your throat the moment you open the box to see a pair of earrings, simple yet elegant musical notes dangling from their hangers. They are beautiful, exquisitely so. It makes your heart pound, your stomach blossom with a troop of butterflies as you wonder at the thought of Changmin picking out a pair of earrings especially for you. That idea alone makes heat flare through your face.

A card had fallen out of the gift wrap and you gingerly pick it up from the floor, eyes scanning the words scrawled on the inside:

"Since you've been a good listener to me, I thought of gifting your ears. Thank you for these past few months. I'm sorry for not having the courage to face you yet. I'm sorry.

Love,

Changmin."

Tears sting the corner of your ears and you brush them away hastily with the back of your hand, his voice resonating through his words with such a vivid picture that your heart aches at the prospect of having just missed him. If you had been a few seconds early, he might’ve still been around and maybe, just maybe, you’d have the chance to catch a glimpse of his face, to allow yourself to gaze at those deep brown eyes that -- once foreign -- felt like falling into a galaxy of stars in the world that defines Changmin. 

As if upon mere reflex, you don’t even think twice before dialling his number.

He picks up after the second ring. 

“You,” there is so much restrained emotion in your voice that it feels clogged coming out of your mouth, “I don’t get it. We haven’t seen each other for six months. That’s almost half a year. What happened to ‘let’s stay in touch and that you’ll visit?’ “ 

It’s not fair for him to fall victim to the built-up frustration swimming in your stomach for months. But your mouth is like a dam that suddenly bursts and the words come rushing out of you faster than you can blink. 

“You can’t just walk into my life and walk out of it as if the time spent in hospital meant nothing to you. If that’s the case, then why even bother answering my calls then? Why not just cut me off altogether? It’s not fair Changmin,” you swallow thickly, “It’s not fair. You’re not the one that gets to choose when we see each other, or when we don’t.” 

There’s a pause where you catch your breath, and when he speaks next, his voice is rough, laced with remorse, “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You breathe out shakily, “why?” Your nose feels stuffed and you’re pretty certain it’s glowing red, “do you not want to see me? Is that it? Why don’t you just say so--”

“I do want to see you, Y/N. Just--Just not--” he chokes on the last word, “not now.” 

“Why?” 

The silence that follows hangs between you both like a bubble threatening to pop, held with a string of tension so high you feel goosebumps explode across the back of your arms. 

And then, just when you think that he is too much of a coward to actually say something in his defence, his alto resonates through the receiver:

“Do you trust me?” 

Your mind pauses. You digest his words. Do you? 

It takes a moment of hesitation for you to murmur your agreement.

“Then, please don’t question whatever’s happening, whatever I’m doing right now,” he inhales, exhales softly, before repeating, “please.” 

And you’re not really sure why, or how, you still have faith in this relationship of yours that you’re not even sure where to classify it. You just nod and murmur out, “okay,” all that while silent tears are paving trails down your cheeks to dribble along your chin. 

You just hope that whatever his reason is, he better have a damn good one.

-♡-

You wait. 

And wait. 

You keep waiting.

The new year comes and goes by without much excitement. February is a spring breeze filled with valentine cards and balloons popping up at every corner of the street. March is wet and full of rain showers, so much so that there is not one day you don’t come home soaked to the bone and shaking like a dog. 

After your argument on Christmas eve, you decide to do what’s best for you, which is protect your heart at all costs. Tossing away the hope that maybe there might be something akin to romance blossoming between the two of you, you focus instead on the new semester as well as the troubles and stress that come along with it. Through it all, you keep a constant stream of chatter between you and the said young man, whom you’ve learnt has taken up French lessons online to stimulate his brain and now can fully move around in his wheelchair without any assistance. 

“Look,” Changmin said once when he’d swivelled the camera around to show you how he’d managed to get himself into the garden, “I barely had any energy in my arms when I first left the hospital. Now, it’s as easy as walking.” 

The smile on his face was as pure as sunshine and your gut felt weird knowing that you were in the same city and yet could not, for whatever of his personal reasons, see him face to face. 

The physicality of him is a void in your life you had patched up with a flurry of activities to keep your mind busy. Whenever you catch yourself daydreaming of the possible what ifs surrounding this young man, you’d throw yourself head first into any activity -- literally anything -- to keep your mind off; accompanying your mother to the grocery store for instance, or helping your dad mow the lawn. Maybe it’s just a coping mechanism until you crash headfirst into a wall and realize that running away from your problems isn’t going to cut it. But for now, you’d accept this gladly as your fate. 

The most you get of him is through video call, not that this can compare to actually seeing him physically in real life. But hey, you’re taking what you can get at this point. It makes you grow closer to each other, communicating every day about everything and anything. Though the physical distance has never seemed so huge, you can’t help but feel like these past few months you feel like you’ve grown even closer to the man in the wheelchair on the other side of the screen, heart warming and cheeks flushing deep red whenever you catch yourself wistfully daydreaming of encountering Changmin again after so long.

You’re not even sure where the time goes but no sooner are you done with your final semester of University that a year has passed. A year since you’ve met Changmin, a year since your internship that seems to have opened your eyes to see the world in a whole different perspective, as if you’ve been blind up until now.

A whole year and you still haven’t seen nor hide or hair of the said young man.

That ultimately changes one day.

You’re to attend the Children’s Day event at the hospital which you’ve interned at that day. Decked in a pair of loose khaki pants and a white shirt, you’ve tied your hair up in a bun for the occasion and trudge to the hospital doors with your worn-out, red converse. 

That’s when you hear a voice. You hear him, calling out your name.

You freeze for a moment, mind going in a mental frenzy as you try to hold yourself together. This has happened all too many times to count, where you’d turn around so fast expecting to see Changmin’s dimpled smile greet you-- only to end up grinning at a random passerby instead.

But then his voice resonates louder, stronger. Curling through the air and shattering through reality like a bass drum: 

“Y/N.” 

Slowly, like you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, you turn around. Your eyes settle across a familiar face, features that you’ve endlessly traced god knows how many times in your dreams and almost on instinct, a scream dies at the back of your throat while you stumble back in shock, blinking furtively and trying to make sense of the reality before you.

Because there, with that same dimpled smile and those brown eyes curved into crescents, sits Changmin.

“Wha--” you don’t know what to say, precisely why you stop yourself mid-way through a sentence. You’re not really sure if you’re dreaming or not, thumb instantly pressing down against one of your fingers in case this might be a dream.

But the sting is all too real and you can’t help sucking in a breath, stunned into silence.

You gawk. He stares back evenly, a lingering smile dancing on his lips.

Changmin, your mind screams. Changmin. 

He’s here. Right here within an arm’s touch. 

You don’t think. You can’t even breathe for a second. 

Your feet stumble, as if attracted to him like a magnet. Heart beating in the back of your throat. 

“You--” your throat is clogged as if you can barely breathe and in response the young man only chuckles, the laughter resonating through your ears and reminding you of all the reasons why you’ve held on so tightly to him for all these months. Tears gather at the corner of your eyes and you don’t even bother to stop them cascading down your cheeks. Instead, you take your time to analyze his face, to trace the contour of his lips an the edge of his nose with your maroon orbs like a parched woman taking a first sip for the very first time.

When Changmin speaks next, his alto is a soft murmur, “surprise?”

“You--You--” you want to say something, anything. But the only words that manage to make it out are, “You’re here.” 

“Yeah,” he replies softly, “I’m here.” 

The urge to hug him suddenly overtakes your body and you move forward as if on instinct, until he stops you with a lift of his hands. 

“I can explain,” his eyes flutter down for a moment, before going back up to meet your brown orbs, “why I never asked to meet up, why it seemed like I never wanted to see you.” 

Confusion flits across your face, causing Changmin to let out another chuckle, more nervous this time, before his hands went to press down onto the handles on each side.

And then slowly, as if you are staring at some kind of miracle of some sort, you see him lift himself up on his legs. 

And then he stands. On his legs.

He’s standing. 

Changmin is standing. 

A breath escapes the back of your throat. Your heart almost drops to your stomach. What?

“Wha--” orbs flickering back and forth between his legs and his face, your brain goes into overdrive at the sight before you, “How?”

The Changmin, who had almost given up on life the moment he was wheeled inside the hospitals. Changmin, who had tossed any help away as though they were only nuisances in his life.

This Changmin was now standing before you on his own two feet and grinning from ear to ear as if he’d never been happier in his entire life.

“Prosthetics,” he explains then, even though you’ve already managed to put two and two together, “I didn’t want you to see me...in such a state. I wanted to make sure I could walk, by the time I saw you again,” he bites down onto his lower lip, “so it took a little more time than expected. That--” he inhales shakily, closing his eyes for a second, before gazing straight into yours with such an intensity it makes your heart stutter, “that was the promise I made myself.”

“But--how--That must’ve--” you can’t seem to find coherence in the tangled knot of thoughts in your brain, “that must’ve hurt--”

“You said so yourself,” he murmurs, taking a shaky step towards you. Then another, and another. Until he’s now just at arm’s reach, “that I need to start living.”

“I--” you swallow thickly, “I--Changmin, I don’t know what to say--”

“Then don’t say anything,” his hands come up to cup your face, “just kiss me.” 

And his mouth is claiming yours before you can even respond, moving with such an intensity that your surprised gasp is drowned out by the sensation of warmth blossoming over your chest. He kisses you with an almost desperate need , mouth moving at a pace that leaves your thoughts dizzy, your breaths uneven and your chest tight with fluttering butterflies while his hands find purchase at your waist to pull you even closer, so close you can feel his hard frame against your curves. 

Your eyes flutter open when you part momentarily, lips still hovering over each other and foreheads pressed. Gazing up into those dark pupils of his, so tender and intense at the same time, a sob echoes through the back of your throat without meaning to before you bury your face into his neck in a mixture of shame and embarrassment of being seen in such a weak, shaken-up state. 

You feel his hand rub comforting circles over your back in a gesture of comfort, of reassurance. That only makes you sob a little harder, clutching onto him with a feline’s grip as if you fear he might vanish the second you blink.

“Y/N,” Changmin’s soft alto reaches your ears, “Y/N, it’s okay.”

It is only when his legs shake that you take it as a hint that he shouldn’t be standing too much. Wiping away your tears with the back of your hand, you quickly help him back into his chair as you’re met with another of his wide grins that takes years off his age, “sorry,” he says, “I’m not really supposed to stand for too long. It’s only until recently that I managed to stand on my own.” 

“And yet you were showing off,” you remark with a roll of your eyes.

“I wanted our first kiss to be a good one." 

Something about his abrupt confession has you redden down to the tips of your toes, heat tingling like electricity down your back while his hand grasps yours to tug you closer. You look down at him and wonder where all the pain has gone, for it seems like Changmin's voice is free from the tension, the earlier pain that had deeply etched grooves onto his features.

But it's not there anymore. His expression ie clear, pure joy glistening through his eyes. You wonder briefly what changed and you can't help but ask, not even bothered by the cold nipping at your fingers.

His eyes soften at your words as his thumb traces random circles over your knuckles, "nothing changed. I just decided that I wouldn't be that person who spends his days being depressed and sad all the time."

"Does it hurt?" You motion towards his legs, "how did you even do it? I know of patients who did the same treatment. It's not easy, you have to go through rehab--"

"Which I did. I took all the pamphlets you gave me, signed up for counselling and physiotherapy. Went everyday until I had blisters along my thighs. It was hard, I almost gave up," he shakes his head, the memory causing his face twist in a slight grimace, "but I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you that I could do it. Y/N, I don't think I've ever been that desperate before. You know that one race you want to win? It felt like that. Like my life depended on it."

His eyes are so intense it makes your breath catch in your throat. Your entire chest constricts. He continues:

"I just wanted to prove to you that I was capable of doing something like that. And along the way, I guess I just felt like...like all this, this felt like living."

And it is. Gone is the weight that bears down on his shoulders. Changmin looks like he's finally breathing again, like he set himself free from the cage of his own mind.

Pride swells within you. It's amazing how far he's come from the broken mess he once was and tears prick ay the corner of your eyes.

Softly, he tugs you down onto his lap and you don't even fight it, allowing your body to give in to the warmth emanating from his chest and the feeling of his face so close to yours.

H pushes away a strand of hair from your forehead, curling it behind your ear. His maroon orbs meet yours, warm and swimming with affection, "I missed you," he murmurs huskily, causing a flurry of tingles down your spine.

"I--" your eyebrows knit together as all the time spent alone comes rushing back to you, "I missed you too."

His thumb rub circles over your cheek, "I’m sorry, I didn't want to hurt you."

"No, it's fine," you pause, hands tightening over his shirt, "I can understand."

"I didn't want to disappoint you--”

"I know.” 

“--And I didn’t want you thinking I was a coward. Or pathetic.” 

“I know, Changmin.” 

A sigh escapes his lips before he buries his face into your neck, breathing in your scent. You shiver in response and heat flushes through your neck upon feeling his lips ghost over your skin, "Am I forgiven then?" He murmurs.

"I guess you are--" the words die halfway up your throat when he presses the softest peck against your pulse point. Breath quickening, your body instinctively tenses as you ask, "what are you doing?"

"Nothing,” you don’t have to see his grin to know it’s there, imprinted on his face. But at this very moment, not even an inch of your brain cares, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him as close as you can. Changmin takes a shaky inhale at your touch as his own hands flutter down your back, the softest of caresses up and down your spine as you hold each other in the coldness of the hospital parking lot. 

"I’m not letting you go again,” the murmur falls past your lips before you can stop them, but you don’t even have time to ponder over the cheesiness of your statement that Changmin’s arms wind so tight around your middle that you are pulled close, his hard frame against your curves. 

You swallow, eyes locking in silent conversation, though it’s not quite silent since the love shining through his maroon orbs is as clear as crystal water. 

He nudges his nose against yours, “I could say the same for you.” 

You smile as he steals another kiss from your lips, not caring that your bodies are freezing, not even thinking about how ridiculous you must look sitting on his lap in the middle of the hospital parking lot.

All you know is that Changmin-- breathing and alive and filled with so much life and energy and hope -- has made his way back to you. And that you’re not about to let go. 

#changmin #tbz changmin #changmin imagines #changmin scenarios #changmin imagine #changmin drabble #changmin au #changmin fanfic #the boyz #the boyz changmin #the boyz imagine #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #theboyz imagines #theboyz scenarios #the boyz soft hours #the boyz drabble #the boyz fanfic #tbzwritersnet #tbzwritersnetwork #deobi drabbles #deobiwritersnet #fluff #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #kpop fanfic #sangyeon #jacob bae #younghoon #kevin moon

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Duplicity

An AU where Kaidan joins Cerberus for the events of ME2.

Chapter Eight: Visitors

"You could have changed first," Mary's eyes flickered to the man, "it would have made a better impression."

This was the Commander on her best behavior, attempting not to scorn the man she once loved. The man that had carried her broken body from the field and into safety. The man that blushed and rubbed at his forehead under her scrutiny, unconsciously buying himself further slack with a motion that brought her back to the old days. She thought reaching him was impossible then; now it was somewhere between impossible and a nightmare. The dissonance firing off in her skull was astounding, painful.

"I was worried about," he choked out, in the husky tone that made her heart flutter, " you."

"We should worry more about ourselves- really, Kaidan? Mouthing off to the Illusive Man?"

Honestly, she was proud of him. Other than the one time he killed a superior, he was quite mellow toward most authority figures. The point value tripled because it was toward the Cerberus ring leader. His hand rubbed the back of his neck, fiddling a while before he would answer.

"Commander, the writing's on the wall here- he sent you... us into a trap. It was negligent at best, he could have easily told us. Given us a chance to prepare-"

"Leave that sort of thing to the three billion dollar asset."

"Four billion," Kaidan smirked, "that also happens to have a death wish."

Mary's eyes fluttered away, losing her will to act brave. Her heart was allowed to fear for another, "maybe I was aiming for you."

His dark eyebrow raised.

"Besides, I can at least try to end my life in the way I see fit."

It was a harsh kickback from the moment of vulnerability. It was too easy for her to return to a level of comfort with Kaidan; why wouldn't it be easy? They had spent nearly a year together more than enough time to grow close, to learn all the ticks and what they meant. Plus, she was bitter. Angry, he had a part in bringing her back to this fucked reality. One where she was shackled to Cerberus. Where her autonomy was a fading illusion, Mary was trapped, and rattling at the bars wasn't enough. Whether it was the nuclear option or falling into submission wasn't entirely clear, both paths still fought.

His other eyebrow joined, creasing toward the center. Reflexively frowning at Shepard's insinuation, a hand returning to massage at his temple, he had no defense. Nothing that would change her mind anyway. He loved her; that was obvious. He couldn't stand to lose her, but he had already told her that. It was in the galaxy's best interest to have her around and kicking Reaper ass, in that there was no doubt. Mumbling and fumbling over words wouldn't budge the Commander. There was no reason even to attempt such a thing.

"I won't apologize for bringing you back."

"What about working for Cerberus?" Mary spat.

Kaidan barked, the aggressive tone an accidental exhaling of emotion, "did Chakwas or Joker get this lecture too? Or is it just me?"

"Does it matter?"

"So Joker gets a warm welcome, you end up drunk with Chakwas, and I end up dodging crates? How is that fair?" he questioned with folded arms.

"They didn't see what they did first hand," she reeled, "they... you... didn't... you knew they killed my unit. You met Toombs."

"And hearing about it wasn't enough?"

Mary's throat bobbed, "it's different."

"Don't BS me, Commander," he retorted sternly, "we're way past that."

"I expected better of you."

"Why? Why just me?"

"You're a good man, Kaidan. I don't like being wrong," Mary went cold, folding her arms over herself, "I don't like thinking I misjudged you."

"Let me get this right...because of our relationship, you expect me to live up to a lofty standard?"

"Hardly lofty. Terrorist organization hardly seems your style," Mary's eyes barbed him with daggers.

"Yet you stick with them."

"What choice do I have? Can I just leave? They've brought in everyone I care about, the Illusive Man has already proved he doesn't mind using anyone connected to me as bait," she looked away, "I'm trapped here."

Kaidan lowered his arms, daring to close a portion of the distance between them. He wanted to assure her, to assuage Mary that she was not the only one caged. It wasn't the time, "I felt the same way when the Council... the Alliance threw me aside. Knowing the Reapers are coming is terrible stuff. Instead of waiting around, I did something."

"You went too far, Kaidan."

"The same could have been said when we mutinied."

"We didn't experiment on people."

"Yeah, Cerberus has a lot to answer for," Kaidan retreated.

Mary didn't answer, watching him coldly. He was sure if she could move from that bed she would have decked him hard on the way out. But she was stuck- tied to the bed by medical tape. She seemed in fine condition to anyone else, but he could see the subtle wince when her breath drew too deep, or her volume grew too loud. Kaidan knew Mary better than anyone.

"What am I supposed to say, Mary? Surviving tore me apart. You, you already know what happened at first, but I had the chance to do something. To fight against what I knew was about to happen," Kaidan stepped forward, "maybe we'll never be what we were. But don't judge me, and let me help. I know how this looks-"

The biotic finally dared to meet her gaze- just in time to watch the tears spring from her eyes," just stop," Mary pleaded, looking at anything else that could distance her, "it may have been two years for you, I get it. You've mourned me. It's only been a few weeks, I felt myself die... just to wake up, and everything is... different. I'm still not sure if I'm in hell or not. Cerberus wasn't even a place I'd be in my nightmare."

Mary's bright eyes suddenly caught him, "and you're with them."

Kaidan moved forward, a hand extended as the Commander curled into herself, pulling up the blanket in vain, hoping it would hide her. Sheild her from the vulnerability she was not willingly presenting. It leaked, and it was unfair of him to take advantage of her. In a previous time her guard would have dropped; now she fought to keep it up—only a part of her struggle to keep sane in this new life. His hovering arm dropped, retreating several paces to force himself to stop.

"I didn't want to believe it," Kaidan stalled, looking at his feet, "but I've been thinking, realized that some of these people are good people. Maybe misguided, but... good."

Mary nodded, keeping her head turned away from him.

"Look, I didn't come here to lecture you," Kaidan sent over a dossier from his omnitool, "I brought some good news. If pulling in someone else we know into this mess is good news."

She shook her arm free of the blanket, the orange illumination of her face revealing a subtle shift in her state. The corner of her lip pulling up after the initial pass of regret filtered over her face, at least the tears he should do nothing about slowed to a trickle.

"There are more dossiers, but I knew this one would be most the important."

"Send them over."

Mary scanned the other two, far more passive in her reading of the other potential members of her crew. This was his cue to leave, so he moved to do just that.

"Just be more careful next time," Mary murmured, following his path out of the medical bay.

Kaidan paused, nodding before ducking out of sight.

~~~

"Thanks Shepard, I will," Liara smiled warmly.

"I'll talk to you later, Li Li," Mary stood, acknowledging Miranda's sideways look with a lop-sided smile. Trotting down the stairs from the administrator's office.

"Jealous, Lawson?"

"No, I-" Miranda smiled nervously, "you aren't going to let this go, are you?"

"Not until I find the perfect nickname."

"Oh god," Miranda muttered, massaging her temples, "Miri and nothing else will be acceptable."

"Really?" Mary prodded but gently offering concern rather than utter mirth.

"Is it not embarrassing enough?"

The Commander grinned smugly, "no, it's just-"

"Just what?" Miranda blew with hands moving to her perfect hips.

Mary didn't avoid the conversation out of pettiness- Joker's voice drowned out the moment, pulling away from the lightness of her mood.

"Shepard, we, uh, have a visitor? Some Kai Leng he claims to be Cerberus."

"You let him on the ship?"

"Let is not the word I'd use."

"And everything was going so well," Garrus quipped, the quicker of her companions to read the shift of Shepard's energy.

"Mr. Moreau is correct, Mr. Leng is here on the Illusive Man's orders," EDI pipped in, "I had to let him in."

"You better hurry; he already pissed off Tali."

"I'm on my way, Joker."

"A stowaway problem, Shepard?" Garrus asked with a cock of his head.

"Miri," it was too grave for a lighthearted nickname, "do you know a Kai Leng?"

"That bastard."

Mary cocked her head, her smile fading into a frown, "Miranda?"

"This isn't good news, Shepard. He's the Illusive Man's personal pet," she spat.

"Threat level?"

"Ten."

Mary picked up her pace to the Normandy, ignoring the sideways glances and concerned looks she received. The doors to the ship were open for her, and an over-the-shoulder call from Joker directed the party to the shuttle bay. The elevator felt like it took centuries, and neither of her companions wanted to say a word. Not even a half ignored news clip to pass the time. Leaving her to claw at her vambrace, annoyed to be tramping through her ship in unclean armour. It was a minor detail, but she hated bringing unnecessary germs onto the belly of her ship. She had a quarian to consider.

As if that was her greatest worry at the moment.

Mary stormed into the cargo bay, surprised to find three figures, and notably the lack of a certain Quarian. The krogan presence was less of a surprise, if there was a fight Grunt would find it. With his space overlooking the bay, he didn't have to pry, and furthermore, Jack's latest biotic blast wasn't easily ignored.

"If you think I'm letting you take me now," Jack heaved, dodging a projectile and returning a side-stepped shockwave, "you're fucking wrong!"

"Jack!" Mary screamed, breaking the biotic's concentration, and then her head swiveled to the stranger, "you must be Kai Leng."

"Shepard," the dark-haired stranger drawled, sending an instinctive shiver down her spine.

She wouldn't be intimidated, ignoring the gnawing sense this man would as quickly kill her as he would shake her hand, but it couldn't stop the protect folding of her arms over her chest, "why are you tormenting my crew?"

"Lawson," he continued, the smug smile leaving as he examined the turian, "and this must be the one known as Archangel."

Mary stepped in to partially block his view of Garrus. She knew that look.

The mixed heritage man extended out his hand- Mary had never wanted to do anything less, but this was a power move. Declining would give him the literal and figurative upper hand. Fuck, his grip was tight, overbearing.

"I was sent here to help; after all, the fate of humanity is resting on your shoulders," Shepard felt the omitted words from his saccharine tone.

"I don't need the kind of help that torments my crew."

"I corrected your blatant disregard for Cerberus' confidentiality."

A chuckle escaped Garrus's airway, on inspection, Miri sported a fleeting smirk. Spurring Mary on to laugh in his face, "yeah, from stolen Alliance and Turian designs."

"This wasn't part of the deal, Shepard," Jack butted in.

"You'll get those files back."

"Will you?"

"You'll learn soon enough that Shepard gets her way, Leng."

Kai Leng took his turn to chortle, "so quick to betray Cerberus, Miss Lawson?"

Miranda exhaled slowly, "what's the harm in a few classified files," her tone almost defeated. Mary and Jack meeting each other with a curious look.

"I'm sure you can find your way to temporary quarters?" Mary returned her attention to the stranger, "The Illusive Man and I need to have a chat in the meantime."

#fshenko #mass effect fancition #cerberus au #duplicity #kaidan alenko #mass effect

[labyrinth-runner]

can we be alone for a bit? For obi wan x reader, please? 👉👈 thank you

Title: A Royal Flush

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: None

Summary: Reader is a Queen returning home after war. Much has changed and she must learn whether she will change for it, or fight against it.

I know I use this gif a lot, but he just looks so soft in it. Thank you, @coredrive​ for posting it because its truly lovely.

Because I’ve watched way too much Bridgerton, I shared a yearning list, so here’s some yearning. Thanks, @the-mandalorian-clone-lover for putting up with my incessant questions.

The battle had been long and tiring, but eventually it was won. You’d lost so many, and there were still so many more wounded as he siege to take back your kingdom came to an end. Your kingdom was yours again, free from the clutches of your enemy. Now, you were to negotiate a deal with the Republic, represented by the man at your side. Their assistance for yours. It was simple enough after the months of fighting, but you knew the fight was far from over. While you knew you owed the Republic everything, you also knew that some of your court would not feel the same. That would be another battle entirely.

Walking up to the castle across the bridge felt odd. The scorched earth on either side of the path left an acrid smell that stung your nose. It mixed with the singed smell of your dress from where you’d narrowly avoided becoming one with the Force multiple times over the course of the week as you traveled with the warriors to rid the world of the last few holdouts. Your knight and protector had insisted this was no place for you, but you had reminded him that you were not defenseless, knowing your way around a weapon.

“It will be a while before the earth is viable again,” you commented to Master Kenobi as you walked side by side.

“Unfortunately,”  he agreed with you, “We can only limit the damage so much.” His brow furrowed as he struggled to ask you something.

“Speak, Master Kenobi,” you bade him, “You know I’ll always listen, even if I don’t take your words to heart.”

“Are you nervous?”

“About coming home to my people?” you asked as you stopped to look up at the palace in front of you. It was large and imposing, towering well above the landscape and leaving you swathed in its shadow. The shadow of the crown that had always been heavy on your head, but even more so now with the deaths of your people on your hands because you had been too naive. “Yes. I’d be foolish if I didn’t worry about them blaming me for all of this.”

“Why would they blame the one person who fought the hardest for them?” Obi-Wan asked incredulously.

“Because at the end of the day, they were left defenseless. I should have known that the kingdom would be invaded. I was too naive to think that being neutral could have spared us. In the end, the people suffered. My people suffered,” you said emphatically. “Now, come on, my people have been waiting long enough.”

You walked faster, pushing your way into the throne room where the rest of the court waited. A hush fell upon the room as they all turned to look at the intruder. There was a man in your seat. You set your chin in a hard line. 

Obi-Wan came to a stop behind you as you started to stride forward. One by one, heads bowed down and knees bent for their fierce warrior queen. You were covered in soot and ash, and your hair was falling out of the intricate braids they had been woven into, but you were relentless. Your footsteps were confident and sure as they carried you back towards your throne. The man vacated, stepping to the your left. You sat, looking out over the awed assembly.

“Welcome home, your Majesty,” your advisor to said.

You leveled him with a gaze, “It is good to be back at court. However, our presence brings with it some conditions.” You looked up at Master Kenobi, your lip tugging up ever so imperceptibly at the sight of him. “We owe the Republic our lives, and that is a debt we intend to pay.”

Master Kenobi held your gaze until you broke it, turning to address the people around you. “We will have a treaty drafted by the end of the week. That will give the troops enough time to recover before they are sent somewhere else.”

“They have earned that much,” a man said from the doorway as he strode over to you.

You raised a brow at the man, having never seen him before. “And you are?”

“Kane Gridlow, your Majesty,” he said, dipping into a low bow at the foot of your dais.

You cast a look on your advisor who cleared his throat. “Lord Gridlow has kept the court together in your absence, your Majesty.”

Your eyes flashed with slight anger and hurt that some man could give your people the strength you could not. “Well, we thank you for your service, then,” you said as you sat up straighter.

“Your Majesty, I was hoping to get a moment of your time,” Lord Gridlow murmured, looking up at you imploringly.

A pit of dread formed in your stomach as you caught your advisor’s eye and nodded. “Leave us.”

The court filed out, jostling Obi-Wan with it and you were left with your advisors and the man who had ruled in your place.

“State your purpose, Lord Gridlow,” you ordered with a dangerously even voice.

He shared a look with your advisor. “Your Majesty, the advisors and noblemen seem to think that it would be best for the stability of the kingdom if we wed.”

You almost scoffed. Almost. Until you noticed that your advisor looked gravely serious. “You wish to corner a queen into a marriage.”

“We just think-”

“Not we, you,” you corrected. “We are the acting authority.”

“You were absent.”

“We had no control of that,” you shot back. “And we do not appreciate being spoken to like this.” You stood up and came to stand in front of him. “We will not be forced into things. Not by our enemies, and certainly, not by you. Dismissed.”

“Your Majesty-”

“Dismissed.” You repeated.

Lord Gridlow hung his head, giving you a mocking bow. “As you wish, your highness.”

Your eyes narrowed at his retreating figure. How dare he insult you by using the wrong honorific? Rounding on your advisor, you saw him wither in the crosshairs of your eyes.

“Your Majesty, I can explain-”

“Oh, can you? You can explain how you were willing to just give us out to the first nobleman that came knocking? Is that it? You were going to whore your queen out for the good of the kingdom?” You asked, voice rising in pitch. It was rare that you were mad, but beneath it all, you were hurt.

“The nobles will not support a treaty if you are alone,” your advisor simply stated.

You looked down at your folded hands, feeling quite young despite the power you held. You dropped all pretense and all formality, becoming the woman in a man’s world who was the only heir. The only option. You’d always known that they had never really wanted you, but you never quite felt that until now. You swallowed the lump in your throat and gave him a sad look, “I fought for you. I only ever ask that you should do the same.”

You gave him a nod of dismissal before crossing over to your balcony to look out over the courtyard. Leaning on the rail, you took in the people milling about below. They were preparing for a ball to mark your return. Perhaps they also thought it should mark the announcement of your betrothal as well. You looked up to the heavens as if asking for strength to get you through it all. You’d always told yourself that you would do what must be done for your people, that in the grand scheme of things, you were but one, the sole guardian of the many.

The weariness in the people passing by was apparent upon second glance. Young women wore the worry lines of widows who wondered how to feed their children. Children laughed in sparing doses, the knowledge of the world weighing down their mirth with the absence of their innocence. They looked how you felt: tired. The campaign had been hard on all, but on your people most of all, you could now see.

Yet, could you commit yourself to that odious man who had prostrated himself in public, yet dared to berate you in private? Was that the man you were expected to grow old with? Your eyes fell to the statue of your father in the middle of the square. He had married your mother for love, turning down multiple arrangements before you could even talk in order to give you a fighting chance at the same. A sigh passed your lips at the realization that it was all in vain.

“If I could choose,” you murmured wistfully as you looked down at a young man in a brown robe who had stooped to smell a rose, “I’d choose you.” 

As if sensing your gaze upon him, he turned to look up at you. The action dropped his hood from his face, shining the sun on his auburn hair. You gave him a sad wave and his brow furrowed in concern. His eyes held a question in them that you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. You never wanted to lie to him, but you couldn’t burden him with the truth either. Casting your eyes down, you backed away, retreating to your rooms in order to finally take the bath that you should have had days ago but never seemed to have the time for.

You dismissed your attendants as soon as the water was filled. Having spent months on the battlefields, you had learned to take care of yourself. You knew it was an honor to be a part of your retinue, but right now all you wanted to do was be alone with your thoughts. 

Lazily, you took your wash cloth and ran it over your skin. With your eyes closed, it reminded you of the time you had cut your arm during a fall and Obi-Wan had cleaned you up. He had teased you for being so stubborn and actually fighting, telling you that he never met a monarch with a death wish before you. He had been so gentle with you that night, kind. A kindness you might never know again. Slowly, you let yourself slip below the water, exhaling a barrage of bubbles as you opened your eyes. The light refracted along the water, glinting off the gilded tub. Only when your lungs started to burn did you resurface, sputtering water as you did so. Your lungs heaved at your stupidity, and you soon found that you were crying as more water droplets splashed into the water. You looked down at your reflection in the water and threw the wash cloth into it, sending ripples through the water. Taking a steadying breath, you got out and wrapped yourself in a towel before heading into your room to be dressed.

“Your Majesty, it is good to see you,” a voice murmured as you sat down at your vanity. You met the owner’s eyes in the mirror and smiled.

“Not as good as it is to see you,” you reassured her.

“It’s been too long,” she squealed before going to find you the perfect gown. “But, I must ask, what is the story of the man who came in with you?”

You turned on your stool to face her, “Liz, he’s off limits. Their kind don’t take wives.”

“He doesn’t look at you like he’s off limits,” she said coyly.

You felt your face heat up at her words. “It doesn’t matter now,” you sighed sadly, “They wish to marry me off to that Lord.”

“What they wish and what you do should not always be the same thing,” Liz said pointedly. “They do not have to live with all the consequences of that decision. You do. You are their Queen. Make your decision, and they will surely fall in line.”

“They won’t support the treaty otherwise,” you replied. “With the Republic at war, they need safe passage through the kingdom. They helped us defeat their enemies on our soil. It only makes sense that we should pay that good will forward.”

“I’m sure they’d understand if you couldn’t,” Liz replied.

“I gave them my word,” you replied. “I need him- them, I need them to know that means something.”

Liz looked down at the dress in her hands and sighed. “Well, should this be your last night of freedom, then we will make it your best. We will make you look so good that they will still believe in the divine right of kings.”

You cracked a smile at that, “Well, I’d certainly like to see you try.”

“As the old monks used to say, ‘do or do not, there is no try,’” Liz winked as she set about to work a magic that was often unappreciated by other nobility, but not lost on you.

By the time she was done, you were exquisite. Your hair was a series of intricate twists and braids that cascaded in all the right places to frame your face. Your dress sparkled in the light as you tentatively ran a hand down the intricate beadwork. It was white and pure. You looked like an angel that had descended from the heavens specifically to save them all. To add further evidence of your right to be there and the fact that you and you alone were their cause for freedom, Liz nestled your crown atop your head.

“Lest they forget who their true ruler is,” she remarked.

“I had almost forgotten how heavy this was,” you mused.

“Heavy the head,” Liz murmured as she pinned it in place, a hairpin held in the corner of her mouth as she added, “If he doesn’t confess tonight...”

“Lord Gridlow?” you asked in confusion as she finished and stepped back.

“No, Lord Kenobi,” she said pointedly.

You blushed, “Obi-Wan isn’t a lord.”

“Obi-Wan? You use first names, your Majesty?” she asked with a waggle of her eyebrows.

You shook your head slightly at her as you got up from your seat and slipped into your shoes. “Titles mean nothing on the battlefield. All are equal when on the end of a blade or a blast.”

“Do you view him as an equal?”

You looked at the crown on your head, “Yes. I do believe I do.”

Music drifted up the corridor from the ballroom down below. 

“I believe that is my cue,” you sighed as you went towards the doors.

Your footsteps were light as you followed the melody, but your heart was heavy. As you came to a rest at the top of the stairs, you could see the party down below. Murmurs ceased and heads bowed in deference as you floated down the stairs. All eyes were on you, but your eyes scanned the crown for a familiar brown cloak. Disappointed when you could not find it, you reached the bottom of the stairs, casting your gaze to your feet.

“Your Majesty, may I have the honor of your first dance?” a lightly accented voice inquired.

Your eyes flicked up to the owner and you allowed yourself to smile. “I believe the honor would be all mine.”

Gently, you placed your hand in his. He held it like it was the most precious thing in the world as he led you towards the middle of the ballroom. He bowed. You curtseyed, and then you danced.

“I almost thought you didn’t come,” you murmured, “I hardly recognized you.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve worn clothes like these,” he admitted with a smirk that didn’t meet his eyes.

You wanted to melt into him, but instead you just allowed yourself to be as close as was proper.  “You look very handsome, but uncomfortable.”

“I could never hide anything from you, could I?” he asked softly. “And neither can you hide from me. Darling, what happened earlier?”

You wanted to admonish him for the use of that pet name. After all, it wasn’t proper, but you loved the way it rolled off his tongue. He hadn’t always called you darling. It was a term of endearment that you had earned about halfway through the campaign on one of the instances you had almost died. A blast from a canon had knocked you clear off your feet and into the dirt. Your ears had been ringing and you could feel the blood trickling down your face from where you had hit a rock. In a minute, he had been at your side, begging you to hold on.

Darling, stay with me.

“Darling?” Obi-Wan asked.

You blinked, refocusing on his face. “Hmm?”

“Stay with me, I know I’m a horrible dancer, but it’s almost over,” he grinned, but his eyes showed concern.

“There’s nothing horrible about you,” you replied as the song came to an end.

He was left speechless in the wake of you as you withdrew to mingle with people you hadn’t seen in over a year who you were certain could not care less about your presence here tonight.

In your bones, you had known this wouldn’t be the triumphant coming home that you wished it would be, but that still didn’t make it sting any less. An inconvenient queen without a King. That was all you were.

Lord Gridlow asked you for a dance and you could not refuse, however every spin around the room had you searching for Obi-Wan’s eyes. When you deemed it proper to take a break, you went to stand by the sidelines as you sipped a drink.

“He seems dreadful,” Obi-Wan murmured as he stood next to you.

“They would have him be King,” you replied absentmindedly.

Obi-Wan blinked for a moment at your indifferent attitude to it all. “Does the Queen not have a say?”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye as you felt the warmth of his hand next to yours. Your smallest finger brushed against his. His hand moved to envelope yours, but then you remember not only where you were, but also who you were. You cleared your throat and prepared to make your rounds. “Excuse me.”

After the lukewarm reception you received from the majority of your nobles, you began to feel the weight of your crushing reality. You had won the war for them, but in doing so had lost their respect. You wanted to laugh, but most of all, you needed air. 

It felt wrong to stand in the stuffy high society after experiencing the hardships of war. There were villages that were decimated, children who starved, and yet here they were practically throwing wealth out your gilded windows in your absence. They wouldn’t notice you were missing, not with Lord Gridlow taking care of their interests and protecting their investments. The nobles, you realized, were content to watch the world outside the palace burn so long as the flames stayed far away. Hell, you thought, they might as well use it to warm themselves without remorse as well.

Slipping out of the crowd, you made your way into the night. The air cooled your skin and filled your lungs. You wanted to scream. You weren’t cut out for this. Not anymore. You stood on your balcony as you looked up into the starry night. A feeling of disappointment settled in.

“You can see less of the constellations from here,” Obi-Wan mused as he came to stand beside you.

“Light pollution,” you replied, remembering how clear the sky was when you slept under it during the campaign.

“Can we be alone for a bit?” he asked softly.

A breath of relief passed through your lips, “Yes, please. I need a moment.”

A small smile tugged at his lips as he nodded, offering you his arm. You wanted to laugh at the formality of it all as you slipped your arm into his.

“You followed me,” you murmured as the two of you started down a path towards the hedges.

“I’m always following you, darling. If you blaze so many trails without looking where they lead, then I have to,” he said with a small smile.

“You shouldn’t say such things,” your face burned at his comment. The two of you came to a stop next to a fountain. It was all perfect. The stars above, the hedges around, the faint music heard over the bubbling of the fountain. He was your prince and this was your fairy tale. Except it wasn’t. You knew it couldn’t be. 

You settled on the edge of the fountain, taking the crown off entirely and holding it in your hands. “It’s so silly,” you murmured. “One circlet of precious metals and stones represents my station.” You tossed it into the fountain.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened and he pulled up his sleeve to fish it out.

“Are you alright?” he asked, knitting his brow as he reached up to fix your crown on your head.

“Do you ever doubt your duty?” you asked him, turning to face him, to study him as he answered.

“I fight for freedom and peace,” he replied. “There can’t be a nobler cause than that.”

“What about love?” you asked softly.

“I suppose at the root of it all, I fight for love,” he admitted, looking at you as if in a new light. “Do you fight for love?”

You paused, drowning in the depths of his eyes. You fought for the kingdom that you so dearly loved, and now you found yourself willing to stop that fight when it came to the person that you loved. 

Averting your gaze, you murmured, “No. Not always, at least. Sometimes I fight out of duty.” Like now, you thought, as you were fighting your feelings for the man in front of you.

“Where is this coming from?” he asked softly, tilting your chin up to look at him. His eyes searched yours as he looked for meaning.

You licked your lips, feeling your mouth go dry. Your cheeks burned under the scrutiny of his gaze. 

There had always been a pull towards Obi-Wan Kenobi. It was a pull that made men follow him into uncertain situations. It was a pull that made conquered villages want to thank him. Now, that pull was making you want to leave your kingdom behind for him if that were the only way for you to be with him. 

His gaze flicked to your lips as you leaned into his hand on your cheek, allowing yourself the comfort of his touch for the briefest of moments as you closed your eyes. In that moment, you could see it all: the two of you, together, happy and laughing arm in arm as you took on the world. A dream that could not be. His nose bumped yours and you pulled back. 

“I... I can’t do this,” you breathed out, feeling like your lungs would collapse in on themselves. Getting up, you raced to get away, but a hand came around your arm to stop you.

You swallowed, looking up at the owner as his eyes pleaded with you. There was a fire there that threatened to consume. It spread through his body and into yours where you touched, licking up your arms and sending a wave of shock through your spine. Your eyes locked into each others and in that moment you made a decision.

Regardless of what happened after the dust settled in your kingdom, you wanted to know Obi-Wan in a way that only a few did. 

Your hands slipped up into his hair as you pulled him into you, crashing your lips against his. His arms encircled you, pulling you flush against him as he kissed back with the same ferocity as he fought. You wanted to lose yourself in this moment, to hold onto it forever, but you knew it could not last. It was the nature of a moment. They were short, fleeting. To hold onto singular moments was to miss the grand scheme of life, but moments, too, were pivotal. You could see where things had changed between the two of you so very clearly now. In hindsight, it was, in fact, a gradual fall. A domino effect of hundreds of tiny moments that led to the two of you crashing together like two planets on an inevitable course of collision. You could only imagine what wreckage would be in its wake. Should people find out, you thought. So they just mustn’t find out. You pulled back, knowing that to continue to prolong this moment would only risk further exposure. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened at the sudden retraction. The crown felt heavy on your head.

“Darling-” he started to say, reaching back for you.

You ran. 

#obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan x reader #obi x reader #fem!reader

[let-it-raines]

Walking the Baseline (Year: 2015)

Summary: This should be the happiest he’s been in years, but it’s not. He and Emma already had wildly different schedules, but now that she’s no longer on tour, it feels like they barely see each other. When they do, it’s for a day here, a week there, two if they’re lucky. That’s no way to live when his girlfriend is carrying their baby and freaking out about it more than he is.

If only he could have a bloody break from tennis to focus on his personal life for once.  

He’s got to be careful what he asks for.

Rating: Teen +

a/n: Hello again! I know these have been slow going, but I’m here with another installment! This may or may not be the last one. I haven’t decided on that yet, so we’ll see what happens there as I know there are many more things that could be told in this universe but don’t know how much motivation I have to write them 😘

ao3: 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 (CURRENT) | 2016 (original one-shot) |

Tumblr: 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 (CURRENT) | 2016 (original one-shot) |

-/-

November 2014.

Shit.

“This is bad,” Rob says from across the room, as if that isn’t the most obvious bit of information on the planet right now. “What are you going to do, mate?”

He wants to do a myriad of things, but he can’t right now.

“Play my match and then call Emma and make sure she’s okay.” Killian shrugs and bends down at the knees to squat against the wall. He hits the timer on his phone for a minute, and he tries to focus on that instead of the news Ariel just texted him.

He’s not doing great at that. All these years of being able to block life out before a match have suddenly deteriorated.

“Do you want to call her now?” Robin prods.

“She won’t answer if I call now. Watch.” Killian exits out of the timer and hits Emma’s number on his phone. It rings and rings and rings, and she never answers. He stands from his squat and tries again. Still, no answer. “Emma, darling,” he speaks into the phone, “I’m about to play, so I can’t talk to you anytime soon. I love you. Everything is alright, yeah? We knew this was going to happen at some point, but I’m sorry it happened this way. I’ll call you as soon as I can. You and the babe stay safe, alright?”

“Do you think that’s going to do any good?”

“No,” Killian answers honestly, “it’s not. She’s going to be freaking the hell out, and nothing is going to calm her down, certainly not me.”

He thumbs through his phone once more, looking through his texts and clicking on the links Ariel sent him. It’s pictures of Emma in her neighborhood, which is supposed to be private. That is a lie, though, because someone managed to take pictures of Emma walking to get her mail, her clothes tight enough that the roundness of her stomach is obvious, especially compared to how she usually looks.

It’s not good. Not good at all.

After the US Open, Emma stopped playing, telling the WTA she was out for the rest of the season on injury. A few people know because of how often Emma has to get drug tested, but it’s all been a well-kept secret.

That is no longer true.

Bloody hell.

“Mr. Jones,” the tournament director says when he pokes his head in the warm-up room, “it’s time to go.”

“Aye, I’ll be right there.” He stands from his squat and stretches out his legs, jumping up and down a few times before grabbing his racket bag from the floor. “Rob, get Ariel to try calling Emma while I’m playing. She’s more likely to talk to her than any of us.”

“I’ll try.” Rob nods and claps his hand over Killian’s back. “Good luck in your match. I know it’s a rubber, but don’t be a loser.”

Killian blows air out of his nose with his laugh. “I’ll try not to be a loser. My fucking motto for life.”

-/-

Killian isn’t a loser that day, but he is out of the tournament. He hates the season-ending final, how it’s a round robin event. He lost the same amount of matches as the man who got to advance to the semi-finals but because he lost three more games, he’s packing his bags to go home.

(Though, he didn’t hate it when he won it years ago, but now is not the time to think of his own hypocrisy.)

To his home here in London, half an hour away from the tournament, instead of back in America with Emma. It’s been odd staying here for the past two weeks. For so long, he was used to living here alone. Sure, Ariel and Rob would pop in, especially after Milah, but it was his home. It was a place to sleep and shower and watch television between having to constantly be on the road and in the air. Then Emma came along and though she’s here less frequently, she’s made her mark.

Some of her clothes litter his closet, her mugs fill his cabinets, blankets she has bought are in the baskets in his den. She hasn’t been here since mid-September when they needed to get away for a little while, but she’s still everywhere. Killian has been finding her bobby pins in his carpet the entire time he’s been here.

The only thing of Emma’s that isn’t here is Emma.

The sun has set outside, darkness taking over, and though it’s past midnight in America, Killian presses Emma’s name on his phone as he sets the timer on the oven for his dinner.

“Hello?”

“Now, tell me why you’ll answer your phone at one in the morning but not during daylight hours?”

“Because I’m a stubborn ass with no real sense of time.”

Killian huffs and moves to his living room, plopping down on the couch. “Now, I thought that was me.”

“It is. We both are. It’s why we’re dating.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Well, I could say other things, but I’m trying to work on my dirty jokes, trying to say fewer of them.”

“Oh, you should never do that. I like when you’re dirty.” Emma’s silent on the other end of the line, and Killian waits for her to speak, to make another joke, to ask him if he could litter this conversation with innuendos. When she doesn’t, he decides it’s better to bite the bullet now than to drag it out. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I want to change what I was wearing to get the mail this morning,” Emma says through gritted teeth. “I don’t know how I could have been so damn stupid.”

“It’s a private area. You thought you were safe. It’s understandable, love. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You were going to have to tell everyone eventually.”

“Eventually being the key word.” She whistles, and if he had to guess, she’s sitting in bed with a tub of icing in her lap and one of her favorite shows on the television. She’ll beat herself up about the icing tomorrow even if she shouldn’t. “Mary Margaret took my phone for a little while so I couldn’t check anything online. That’s why I didn’t answer you when you called earlier. It’s been…a day. I’m sorry you didn’t make it to the semi-finals.”

“Yeah, me too,” he tells her, allowing himself to wallow for a moment. “I get to come home to you sooner, though.”

“I’ve saved the tree for you to help me put up. And Mary Margaret has started on the sides for Thanksgiving. There’s going to be so much food for you to pig out on before off-season training starts.”

He can hear the smile now. Good.

“There’s nothing I’m looking forward to more. I’ve heard there’s such a thing as a dad bod, and I fully intend on getting one this holiday season.”

Emma blows air out her nose. “You and I both know that’s not true. You’re too vain for that.”

“I am devilishly handsome, aren’t I?”

“I’ll let you keep thinking that. Killian?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I’ll be fine. This entire…situation has sucked, but I’m slowly coming around to it. What happens, happens, and I’ll deal with it. If I can get through half the things I’ve gotten through, I can get through a human being growing inside of me and the world knowing about it. I think the hardest part is how bored I am. Do you have any idea what it’s like to constantly be on the move and then for it to suddenly stop?”

“No, I don’t.” He pulls a blanket over his lap to warm him. “I hope I never find out.”

“I hope you don’t either.” Emma yawns, and the corners of Killian’s lips tug up. Maybe this means she’ll try to sleep instead of staying up worrying all night. “I think I’m going to go to sleep. Or at least try.”

“Goodnight, Swan. I love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

-/-

Killian gets two weeks off in Florida for Thanksgiving and to have a break from training. It’s lovely to do nothing if only for a moment (he would be horrible having to take the extended break like Emma) and to spend it with Emma and her family, but then it’s back to practice and tweaking his game during the off-season.

Rob and Nemo work him harder than they ever have, bemoaning him about his slow legs and his age – he’s nearly twenty-nine, which was once considered ancient in his sport – but he keeps pushing through. Hours are spent on the court and in the gym, and the rest of his days are spent with Emma, going on walks and watching TV in their house. She’s still practicing and going to the gym, even if those are modified to how they were before, and if Killian closes his eyes, it’s almost like normal.

But then, slowly, December passes, Christmas lights everywhere fading a little every day, and Killian is packing several suitcases for the month he’s going to spend in Australia. Three years ago, Australia is where it all began for them, and it’s odd to be going without Emma.

She’s made a rule that most of their conversations have to be about things other than the baby. Part of it is because Mary Margaret overloaded Emma with baby talk. It was constantly about names and clothing and what color the nursery should be painted. If it wasn’t that, it was book after book about pregnancy, hormone changes, and the many processes that happen when giving birth.

Even for Killian, who isn’t particular about medical procedures, that was too much. He loves Mary Margaret as much as Emma does, and while she’s great most of the time, it all has been a little much.

The media attention has been too.

Thus, Emma’s rules. Their lives are supposed to go on as normal with the occasional conversation about the baby, usually when it’s absolutely necessary or when it’s late at night and they’re in bed or lounging on the couch watching TV and Killian’s hand finds Emma’s ever-growing stomach.

He thinks that’s what’s so bloody difficult for him as he zips up his suitcase. He’s going to be gone for a month, and in that month, everything can and will change.

Killian is missing seeing his child grow and missing being with his girlfriend, and as much as he loves what he does, as passionate as he is about having the fucking best job in the world, he would trade it all to not have to give up so much of their lives.

Emma would never let him.

She’d slap him if she knew he was even having these thoughts.

“Do you like this jacket?” Emma asks as she shuffles through their closet next to him. “I mean, I like that it’s red, but do you think it’s too bold?”

Killian turns and looks, glancing up and down at Emma. “I like the red leather.”

Emma nods and smiles, looking at herself in the mirror and tugging the coat over her stomach. “One day again, it’ll zip up.” She rolls her eyes and then begins to take it off, but Killian stops and walks toward her, running his fingers over the lapels until she’s flush against him.

“One day,” he echoes before dipping his head to her neck and running his lips across her jaw, “but for now, I think it’s fine to not have you covered up.”

Emma cranes her neck and makes a nose he’s going to memorize and take with him all the way to Australia. “That was a horrible line. You need to be a better flirt. This isn’t working for me at all.”

His hand falls from her shoulder and slowly makes its way to her ass before he has a firm grip. She makes that noise again, and Killian smirks against her neck.

“Well,” he drawls, making his accent as thick as he can as he nibbles at her ear, “I have forty-five minutes before I have to go. What do you say I use about fifteen of those focusing on you?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Oh, absolutely. I want to take in as much of you as I can while I can.”

“Dirty,” he whispers in her ear before kissing her and walking her out of the closet and back to the bedroom.

-/-

January 2015.

ES: Good luck today, babe! Or tomorrow. I’m not really sure what time it is in Australia, but I do know I will not be awake for your match.

Killian laughs at his phone. He’s been here three weeks, and Emma still hasn’t gotten the time difference down. He figured she wouldn’t be too bad with it since she makes this trip every year, but according to David, he changed all of Emma’s clocks and she never really knows the difference after the first two days.

It’s technically yesterday afternoon back home, or at least it was when she sent this, and he texts her back, thanking her and promising to call after his practice.

He’s got the first night session match in RLA tonight for his quarterfinal match, and if that weren’t three in the morning back home, he knows Emma would be up for it.

He wouldn’t ask anyone to be awake at that ungodly hour for him.

“Have you finished your hair yet?” Ariel asks.

She’s sitting on his bed in his hotel room, has been for an hour even though he definitely did not invite her over, and he’s had to listen to her rambling about sponsorship pitches and contract negotiations and all the things he hates the entire time. So he’s spending a little extra time messing with his hair and shaving his beard. She’s used to this, of course, and probably knows the exact amount of time it’ll take him to get ready better than he does.

“Not quite, love.”

“You know you’re going to put it under a hat and get it all sweaty, right? It doesn’t matter what it looks like.”

Killian shakes his head and puts his razor down before walking out of the bathroom to peek his head over at Ariel. “Are you really that bored that you can’t find something else to do other than bother me?”

She sits up and props herself on her elbows, her red hair flowing down her back, but a small bit gets stuck in her eye. She quickly blows it off. “It’s a big match day, and you’re nervous. I’ve been sent here to keep you occupied so you can’t think about how nervous you are or how much you miss Emma or how much you want to write an entire book of poetry about how much you love her.”

“I have never said that last part,” he counters.

“But you’ve thought it, Mr. Darcy. You and your big ole heart and your obsession with your girlfriend and your baby.”

Killian chuckles and leans against the wall. He crosses his arms over his chest and arches a brow. “Am I not supposed to be in love with my girlfriend and our child?”

Ariel shrugs. “I just think that for someone who loves a woman that much, there might be a ring and a question rattling around somewhere.”

His eyes roll, and outwardly, he deals with the question with annoyance. Inwardly, his heart quickens and he thinks some things he’s been trying not to.

Some things that, well, shake him to his core and make his breathing a little more difficult than normal.

He and Emma have talked about marriage, but it’s always been brief, seemingly inconsequential. It’s something they’d consider a long way down the road, maybe when their lives are normal, when they can profess their love to each other without any professional blowbacks.

With how the game is progressing and how long players are starting to play now, and more than just the top guys, he doesn’t know when that’ll be.

Killian loves Emma. Emma loves him. They’ve both made each other better people and committed to each other and to their unborn daughter, and Killian doesn’t see that ever changing, marriage license or not.

“A,” he whispers, his fingers tapping over his bicep, “Whatever happens with us is as much up to Emma as it is to me. We like how things are now, and I can write a book of poetry on our love no matter if she is my wife or not.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just want to go to that wedding. I feel like it would be the party of a lifetime.”

“Tell you what, I’ll take you to the party of a lifetime when I win this damn tournament. We’ll go clubbing like we both don’t go to bed for ten when we can.”

Ariel winks. “You’ve got yourself a deal. Now, come on, we’ve got things to do, and you’re making us late with all your unnecessary primping.”

“Because I’m that damn good-looking and should accentuate it when I can.”

Ariel rises from the bed wand comes over to pat his shoulder. “Whatever you tell yourself to sleep that night.”

-/-

Killian runs through his practice with ease, and he feels good. He’s seeing the ball clearly, doesn’t feel any aches in his body, and though his opponent has handed Killian’s ass to him on a silver platter many times, he’s feeling good about tonight.

Until he isn’t.

It’s the second set when it happens.

Killian is up a set and has two break points to solidify a lead when he’s running down a forehand and loses his footing on the court. His ankle is the first thing to twist, and before he can think, he’s propelling forward toward the ground.

For the entirety of his life, Killian has been told not to fall on his wrists. It’s the first thing any athlete learns. Hell, it’s the first thing anyone learns, but instinct takes over him in that moment. He’s trying to keep from landing flat on his face, and so he lands on his left wrist.

His fucking left wrist, which has caused him trouble his entire career.

Now, though, as he sits on his courtside chair and the tournament medical examiner touches him, he knows this is worse than any injury he’s had in the past.

Fucking hell, he has to pull out of the tournament.

He doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to play for the rest of the season.

Shit.  

Should have fallen on his face and knocked out his teeth. He could still play with no teeth.

-/-

“It’s a fracture,” a doctor tells him that night as he sits in a hospital bed in nothing but one of those awful paper gowns. “You’ll want to consult with your physicians back in Britain, but I’d say a ten-week recovery at the least, six months at most.”

“That’s not exactly a short time span,” Killian grumbles. “You can’t give me something more exact?”

He shrugs. “I think it’ll most likely be about three months for you, but you won’t know until you start playing again. It’s more the rehab than the recovery that I would worry about.”

“Thank you, Dr. Weissman,” Rob tells the doc, dismissing him before Killian can take the piss out of the man for doing his job. Dr. Weissman nods and leaves the room, and all that’s left are Killian, Rob, and Ariel. Nemo is back at the hotel, probably watching the video of Killian ruining their season over and over again. “How are you feeling, Jones?”

“Just peachy,” he lies, flashing them his brightest smile before it falls. He pushes his hair back and yanks at the strands, pulling hard enough for it to hurt. “Fuck.”

What has he done to himself?

People are playing longer now, but what if he isn’t one of those? What if this is the injury that begins the slow deterioration of his career? The one that whittles him away from a great player to a star trying too hard to hang onto his shine?

He hates himself for even thinking that because it’s conceited and self-loathing and all the other things he’s tried not to be lately. He was the one who had to talk Emma through something similar, to tell her that the pregnancy wouldn’t be the end of her career, that one day she’d be standing at the top of the podium again with a shiny trophy in hand.

It all felt so convincing when he was telling her that.

But he’s also an asshole who can seldom take his own advice.

And what Emma is going through is much harder than what he is, so how dare he even compare the two situations?

Seriously.

Fuck.

-/-

February 2015. 

David picks him up at the airport in Florida, but it could have been a stranger and Killian wouldn’t know the difference. He’s been moping on a plane for twenty-four hours and doesn’t notice much of anything.

That is until he walks in the front door of his home and is wrapped in the tightest embrace he’s ever felt. Emma, like always, smells of vanilla and flowers, and he inhales her scent. It’s been a month without it, and he never wants to lose it again. Her hand comes into his hair, scratching down to his skull, and she pulls him as close as possible, her stomach pressed between them. She’s seven months along now, was six when he left, and the difference feels almost impossible to describe.

He tries not to think of all he’s missed, not when he’s back in her arms once more.

What a beautiful place to be.

He’s thought that his world was falling apart, that he had no control over anything, and it was one disaster after another.

As his uninjured arm run up and down Emma’s back and he continues to breathe in her scent and her warmth, he’s reminded that his world, the most important one, is more solid than it’s been since he lost Liam.

If his brother could see him in this moment, even when his mind and body are at low points, Killian would hope that Liam would be proud of Killian’s accomplishments instead of disappointed in Killian’s failures.

“I missed you,” Emma whispers against his cheek.

“I missed you, too, Swan. You have no idea how much.”

“Are you okay?”

“I will be.” His hand comes to rest in her ponytail. “I promise I will be.”

-/-

The world seems to stop for the both of them, and it’s not just because Killian spends his first week at home moping in bed, watching more TV than he has in years. Emma joins him, lounging with her legs crossed over his, basically using his body to make herself comfortable when her back is sore, and if it weren’t for food delivery services, they likely wouldn’t eat. Well, at the very least, they wouldn’t eat any proper meals. Emma’s doctor wouldn’t like that.

Killian’s doctor, on the other hand, has encouraged him to stay active but to rest his wrist. He’s not supposed to pick up a racket except to lightly hit a few forehands, and he definitely isn’t supposed to do any weight work in the gym lest he wants his arms to become horribly unbalanced.

It’s a change in lifestyle, and Killian hates it.

He obviously still hates himself because he spends a hell of a lot of time online looking at articles and tweets about the Australian Open. Half of them are about him, half are about the eventually winners, and a small sprinkling are about how Emma couldn’t defend her title because of her pregnancy.

That sends him into another spiral, and in the darkness of their bedroom, he reads article after article about how Emma Swan will never come back to the game, about how she’s ruined her career, about how if she does come back, she shouldn’t have a protected ranking because pregnancy is not an injury and does not merit any help in building back a ranking.

Absolute bullshit.

How is the WTA the largest sports organization for women and yet it has no pregnancy protections for its players?

That sets him off more than anything else, and as Killian reads article after article and tweet after tweet, and he hopes to God that Emma hasn’t spent her nights reading this like he has.

What kind of darkness has he stumbled into, and how does he get out of it?

“Get up.”

Killian groans and rolls over, burying his face in his pillow and trying to go back to the sleep he didn’t know he’d fallen into. His head is screaming at him.

“KJ, get up.” He feels Emma’s hands on him, shaking his shoulders, but he ignores her. The last thing he wants to do is open his eyes and get out of bed. “My water broke.”

He immediately flips over and sits up, staring at Emma who is standing over the bed with her arms crossed over her chest. “Are you serious? What are you doing just standing there? Have you called your doctor? It’s too soon for your water to have broken.”

Her eyes roll. “My water did not break. It’s noon, and you’re still in bed. Get up.”

“Now, that’s just cruel. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I didn’t expect for you to be coherent enough to really listen.” Emma sits down on the edge of the bed and leans in to kiss his cheek and brush his hair back. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Now I’m never going to believe you if you tell me your water has broken.”

Emma shrugs. “Next time I say it, I promise I will mean it.” Her hands wander down his side, moving over his collarbones and through tufts of hair on his chest. She’s always fond of doing that. “Look, I get the moping and the internet doom scrolling. I’ve been through that, and I support you doing whatever you need to do.”

“I feel like there’s a but coming.”

“But,” Emma continues, “this baby girl is coming in two months, possibly less, and I don’t know if you’ve looked in the nursery since you got home, but it’s all boxes and disassembled furniture.”

“You didn’t get to all that while I was gone?” She yanks on his hair, and he grits his teeth to keep from yelping. “Only teasing, love.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t get to it. All of this baby stuff freaks me out and after putting together one railing for the crib and having a hormonal meltdown because I didn’t want it to be my fault if the crib fell apart while she was sleeping in it, I stopped. Figured it’d be better if you were here.”

“So that it’d be my fault if the crib fell apart?”

“Exactly.” She tilts her head toward the bedroom door. “I made you coffee, so get your ass out of bed and lend me a hand.”

He raises his broken, wrapped up wrist. “Was that pun intended?”

“Believe it or not, no.” She leans in to kiss his cheek once more. “I’m not going to kick you while you’re down.”

“You’re just going to kick me out of bed.”

“Exactly.”

His legs slowly drag him out of bed and to the kitchen, where he takes the pain medication he’s allowed to take, downs some water, and drinks his coffee. It’ll be awhile before the caffeine and medication kick in, so he tries to blink himself awake to get rid of the sleepiness and the pain.

It doesn’t work.

He does, however.

Emma’s been up for awhile and has moved all the boxes in the nursery into their own sections. It’s just as chaotic as it was before, but it at least looks a little more put together. Killian settles down in front of the crib, reads through the instructions, and he starts piecing things together while Emma works on the dresser. She flits around the room, helping him when he needs it, and as much as he’d like to say they finish quickly, they don’t. It takes them all morning just to do those two pieces of furniture and for him to fix the roller on the glider, and he’s exhausted.

Maybe he can convince Emma to take a nap with him later.

After he exercises. He has to move a little today. His body hasn’t been this stiff on a non-tournament day in ages.

Okay, so maybe nap first, then exercise. That sounds like a better plan.

“What the bloody hell is this doing in here?” Killian asks. He bends down and picks up Emma’s gold medal, dangling it on his arm, which is a much safer space than the floor under a stack of books where it was.

“Oh, yeah,” Emma hums, “Mary Margaret wanted me to display that in here.”

“Why?”

“Well, she wanted me to put some of my trophies in here, but I said that was weird and probably a little dangerous. But then she suggested we do, like, this little wall collage of some things about us for her. That’s the achievement I’m proudest of, at least professionally, and I figured it would be kind of badass for my kid to know her mom was an Olympian.”

“Is,” Killian corrects while he walks toward Emma and tucks some strands of hair behind her ear. “Her mom is an Olympian. Present tense.”

Emma shakes her head and looks away, eyelids covering those beautiful green eyes of hers. “Was. I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to competition, Killian. I’ve been reading what exactly my body is going to go through, which, big mistake by the way, and I don’t know how I’m going to get back into competition shape to work my way back up to the top. I spent most of my life conditioning my body to be an athlete. I don’t think it knows how to be a mom and an athlete.”

“You’re always going to be an Olympian and an athlete,” he promises, meaning every word, “and it’s not going to be easy getting back. The cards are fucking stacked against you. But if there’s anyone who can persevere through hardship, it’s you. And me and the babe will be right here with you.”

“Except you’ll probably be back on tour traveling again. Hopefully your wrist will be healed soon, way before she comes.”

Killian leans forward and dips his head down to rest his forehead against Emma’s. “I’m staying with the two of you for as long as I can. Can’t get rid of me that easily, Swan. You’re stuck with me for life.”

“That isn’t as appealing sounding as you think it is.”

Killian tilts his head back with laughter before kissing Emma’s temple. He still hasn’t brushed his teeth this morning and has some major coffee breath. He’s surprised she hasn’t kicked him out of the house yet. She surely will if he attempts to kiss her.

“Let’s install these shelves and then go take a nap, yeah? Get rid of all our fears for a little while with sleeping. Maybe we’ll even go for a walk tonight since the neighborhood is now extra secure.”

“Sounds like a plan, KJ. Oh,” Emma gasps, moving away from him and reaching into a basket to pull out an old book. “I meant to tell you this, but I was shopping for books online and I found one from when I was a kid. I used to read it in the foster system, and I don’t know, it would bring me comfort. I thought maybe it would be a good name for her.”

She hands him the book, and he looks over the cover, reading the words written in large print.

“Olivia,” he whispers, sounding out the name on his tongue. “Olivia Swan-Jones.”

He can’t wait to meet her.

And he can’t wait for her to see what a badass her mom is, and how Emma is definitely going to stand at the top of that podium again.

Hopefully he is too.

-/-

-/-

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