#I wonder if anyone else cries like this. Its like a stone-face with gasping and grimacing because the pain hurts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bl--ankhaeji · 3 years

Text

Bed of Roses

Pairing~ Emperor!Taeyong x CivilianPharmacist!Reader

Genre~ fluff,, angst,, empireau

Warnings~ smut..like three different scenes,,fem!recieving oral,,handjob,,switch?Tae/Reader,,Talks of war,,mentions/slight descriptions of death,,mentions/descriptions of extreme illness,,Taeyong has PTSD and nightmares,,mentions of blood,,Taeyong has insecurites,,mentions of rotting flesh

A.N~ This is my fic for the taeyong gallery collab hosted by @alreadyblondenow I am releasing two days later than planned I am sorry for that. This fic is based off of the painting The Kiss by Gustave Klimt. Also big thanks to my mutual/beta reader, Xiami, @kjmsupremacist and the mutual who made this beautiful banner for me, Mylin, @suh-insane This is my longest fic so far I hope you all enjoy 😊 Oh and before I forget there is a whole like sort of surgery scene in here PSA I am no doctor, I know nothing substantial about medicine or medicinal practices. I got the inspiration for that scene from a drama so...(props if you can guess which one it is)

W. Count~ 12.5k

The screams of thousands ringing in the air is deafening. Buildings are burning to the ground from a ravenous blaze. A vibrant haze of orange and red covers every single object in sight. No matter where he looks there is someone crying; hell, even the sky seems to be crying tonight. Taeyong’s legs give out from under him, bringing the once-strong prince to his knees as his head drops, hanging lowly in shame. How had he let it get this far? What happened to his beautiful peaceful empire full of its joyous people?

War. That’s what happened. His father had gotten power hungry and bloodthirsty, a terrifying duo. He remembers sitting in the royal meetings listening to the decisions his father would make, hating every single one but not having the authority let alone the guts to stand up to him. Hurried footsteps bring the prince out of his memories as a peasant girl, barefoot and in a tattered dress, appears in front of him.

“Prince Taeyong!” she cries, tears rushing down her face as if trying to see who will beat the other to the ground first. The prince's head snaps up at her cries, looking intently at her face. Her once-beautiful features are now horribly damaged and scarred from what looks like a massive burn. The girl opens her mouth, words making their way out until they stop suddenly and are replaced with a blood-curdling scream.

It’s then that Taeyong notices the spear cutting through her flesh, beginning to protrude through her midriff before it retrieds back through her body. The girl’s now-limp body falls in a heap in front of the prince, her blood flowing rapidly out of the deep gash. In her place stands an enemy soldier. The soldier raises his sword and the two men quickly commence into a brief battle. Taeyong quickly overtakes the soldier, tearing him down almost effortlessly.

The tired male stands tall, chest heaving, almost completely covered in blood before he rushes back to the girl, cradling her in his arms, even though his subconscious already knows it’s too late. “M-miss, oh my god miss, p-please please wake up,” he stutters frantically, lightly tapping her face. “MEDIC!! HELP SOMEONE!” he screeches so loudly it feels as if it’s ripping his throat.

Countless people have died in front of him this whole time. Countless bodies lay around him–men, women, and children alike. Yet he’s hellbent on trying to yell for a medic that he knows isn’t there to help this one girl. Suddenly, he sees the girl's eyes flutter open. “My prince,” her voice barely whispers, her shaking hands reaching up slowly to softly cradle the prince’s tear streaked face. Suddenly the strength returns to her body, her hands, once gentle, now harshly gripping the side’s of Taeyong's face, nails causing what feels like permanent moon shaped indentures on his face. “YOU!” she spits.

Her eyes, once gentle and kind, tainted with fear, now hold an anger and bloodlust so intense it is almost suffocating. “You’re the reason I’m like this! You and the royal family caused this-this WAR. And for what reason, huh? Thousands of lives lost; all of my friends and family are now dead because of you. I’M EVEN DEAD NOW BECAUSE OF YOU!!” Her hands now tightly grip his neck. “If I have to die by your hands then you have to die by mine. You made this bed of thorns, now lay in it. DIE!”

“AHHHHHH!” An ear piercing cry leaves the man's lips as he now sits up in his bed scrambling to the headboard as if trying to get away. His clothes and bedding are drenched in sweat. His personal guard, Doyoung, rushes into the room, thinking there was a possible intruder from the emperor's cries. Even though this was far from the first time the emperor was plagued by night terrors, he could never be too certain.

“Your Highness, Your Highness please. Taeyong! Snap out of it; you’ll wake the entire empire, sir please.” Doyoung pleaded with the now sobbing man. “Your Highness, it’s okay it was just a dream, none of it is real.” The guard's large hand lands on the emperor’s back as he rubs soothing circles in hopes of calming the almost hysterical man.

The dream may not have been real but his pain was, the war was real. His sobs are deafening.

His people, his country. He failed them; he’s still failing them.

The once-cowering man now stands tall with an aura of elegance and power radiating off of him. After Doyoung’s fruitless attempts at trying to talk Taeyong into getting some help for his recurring nightmares, the emperor was due down in Neo City, sometimes referred to as N-City, the capital of the Neo Empire. At least once a month Taeyong comes down from the castle placed in the heart of Neo City and walks around greeting and getting to know the citizens of the city. Taeyong has always been very passionate about knowing the people under him and knowing how they live. He never wants to be an emperor that lets his people suffer while he lives extravagantly in the castle.

He figures that’s the least he can do after failing them once already.

He shrugs on his royal cloak even though he and everyone else knows that it’ll come off in no time once he joins the people. Taking a seat in the carriage across from Doyoung, Taeyong is handed his crown.

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

Fuck fuck fuck. That’s all that you can think of as you race to make it on time. You’re so fucking late; how could you have let it slip your mind? The emperor always comes down around this time and you’re usually always in your spot on time, but you woke up late this morning after pulling an all-nighter preparing medicinal herbs for the elderly people down your street.

Your rucksack flops lifelessly beside your hip as you finally come to a stop, managing to make it to the spot in the nick of time. You had to deliver the herbs this morning and it almost cost you to miss seeing the emperor. Ever since Taeyong had taken over as emperor and started making his monthly visits, you always made sure you were there to be able to see him. You had a special spot you always occupied. It was the perfect spot where you could see him but not be front and center so that he could see you.

Indiscernible chatter and yelps of delight grow louder and more constant. The second you turn your head, an unmistakable crown floats atop the heads of an ample number of people. At that same moment you hear the emperor's joyous laugh, the beautiful sound bringing an uncontrollable smile to your lips. The crowd of people slowly thins out, finally allowing you to catch a glimpse of the handsome man, and you can’t help but to be taken aback by his beauty even though this is far from your first time seeing him. The first thing you look at are his eyes. Despite his entire demeanor radiating a bubbly happiness, you can see the truth in his eyes.

Taking in the appearance of the royalty, you notice the dirty cuffs on his white button up that sit rolled up on his forearms. Ahhh he must’ve been helping Mr. Young plant vegetables again. Your mind conjures an image of the older male who has the gall to make even the emperor plant vegetables for him and a small chuckle falls from your lips. Making your gaze up to his head, you take in the royal crown. You always wonder how the crown manages to stay rooted on his head despite sitting on it lopsided 90% of the time. A crooked smile that shines brighter than the sun graces the emperor's features and you suddenly feel your cheeks warm like a furnace.

Too caught up in your trance, you don’t feel the person bump into you until you’re already on the ground. The silence that greets you rings heavy in the air and isn’t broken until you hear a gasp, while at the same time feeling warm, nimble fingers wrap around your arm, gently lifting you from the ground. “Are you okay?” an male voice rumbles, a voice you’re no stranger to, a voice you were just delighted to hear mere seconds ago.

“I uh I-I ah-h y-y-yes-,” you stutter, struggling to form coherent words once you realize that the emperor has helped you up from the ground.

The emperor helped you up.

The emperor has his hand wrapped around your arm.

The emperor saw your fall... Dear God THE EMPEROR SAW YOUR FALL!

“I-I uhh YES-yes, I am fine,” you rush out, keeping your head down, refusing to meet the eyes of Emperor Taeyong, terrified of the judgement that might lie in them at your embarrassing fall. You quickly release yourself of his hold, scurrying away before he or anyone else can get a glimpse of your face. With your heart pounding in your ears and tears pricking your eyes you run back to your house as fast as you can manage, cutting your time to see the emperor extremely short. Hey, at least you have more time to prepare; you’re going to make things a little bit different today.

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

“Your Highness.” Doyoung’s curt voice takes Taeyong’s attention away from the retreating back of the girl he just helped off of the ground mere seconds ago.

“Wha-–ah yes! Let’s keep moving, shall we?”

The sound of the horses' feet clacking against the stone ground echoes throughout the carriage. “Doyoung,” the emperor starts, looking almost wistfully out of the window. “Do you think that girl from earlier is okay?”

“I would assume so, seeing as how she had no trouble when running away as if she had just robbed a bakery,” he replied with a slight tilt in his voice.

“She did run away quite enthusiastically, didn’t she?” Taeyong can’t help the small grin that overtook his face at the memory of the girl. It was rather funny seeing her scramble away as if she had just committed a crime.

“Your Highness, we have arrived.” The coachman speaks from the outside of the carriage as it slows to a stop.

Despite the limited space, Taeyong stands, shouldering the heavy royal robe. The door to the carriage is opened by one of the royal guards, who proceeds to escort Taeyong to the steps of the palace. A sound of disdain falls from the guards lips and catches Taeyong’s attention. “What seems to be the problem, might I ask?” Halting his steps, Taeyong turns towards the guard and gives him his full attention.

Realizing the emperor heard him, the guard stiffens, stuttering over his words hurriedly, attempting to make sure the emperor didn’t misunderstand. “Ah—no, Your Highness. There is no problem; not with you, at least, it’s just there’s this girl that always comes to the palace every week, and it’s just really annoying to send her away all the time.”

Spotting a girl making her way up the palace steps, the guard and Taeyong watch as the girl encounters her first guard, thrusting the huge bouquet into his face then bowing, appearing to say something completely inaudible from this distance. Standing straight, she looks as if she begs the guard for something, a hopeful look etched onto her face only for it to fall after the guard says something in return. Seemingly giving up, the girl turns to leave the palace, only this time she hangs her head down in sorrow.

Gathering what could be classified as a humongous bouquet, you make your way to the palace, even though you know you’ll probably be sent away again. Having succeeded in finally getting them to at least take the bouquet, you can only hope it reaches the emperor. Usually you just give him a nice bouquet full of roses that grow right in your garden at home with a nice little card attached reminding him to eat and get enough fluids, things like that, but this time after seeing the emperor you know he needs more than just roses. You gathered up and put together a bouquet full of beautiful red roses, gladiolus colored a light pale peach, white poppies, and a bunch of basil sprinkled throughout the bouquet.

Each flower carries a significant meaning with it that you want to give to the emperor and even if none of your other bouquets got to him, you really wish this one will. Sitting down, you prepare to write the note that you would leave this time.

It’s me again, Your Highness. I saw you today when you went down to town, and you looked really tired despite the smile you put on your face for us. I do hope you are getting enough sleep while also keeping yourself fed and hydrated, otherwise if you get sick, who will lead us as well as you do?

As you can see, I gave you a little something different than the usual roses. Considering that you’re a busy person, I’ll assume that you don’t know these flowers or their meanings so allow me to tell you.

The red flowers are obviously the roses I have been giving you for the last year or so. The pink looking flowers are called Gladiolus and they symbolize strength and get their name from gladiators who fight with strength and honor. The white flowers are called White poppies; they symbolize peace and the remembrance of war. They got that meaning because they are usually the flowers that grow atop fallen soldiers' bodies after war. Finally the little green leaves sprinkled throughout the bouquet are called Basil; although usually used in food, they are also thought to bring peace while warding off negative spirits, symbolizing good wishes, wealth, and a happy home.

Now that you know their meaning, I hope you can understand why I gifted these to you. Till next time Your Highness.

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

Closing the folded piece of paper, Taeyong lets out a breath before looking at the beautiful bouquet in his hands. He was surprised that someone took so much notice and cared so greatly about him and his well-being to do something like this. With a light heart and a small flustered grin, he places the card back in the bouquet, setting the flowers in a vase atop the vanity in his room, somewhere where he is sure he will get to see the flowers everyday.

Back to normal again this week, Your Highness. I do hope that you were able to receive last week's bouquet, but I know there’s a good chance you did not, just like you will not this week. Do not ask why I continue to deliver these bouquets even though I know that you have not gotten a single one. It is too much to explain over a single note. I hope you have eaten well and stayed hydrated throughout this week. I also hope you have been sleeping well. If not, one way I find that helps is lavender oil. You could take it orally or drink some lavender tea before bed. You could even keep lavender in your room to infuse the area with its scent.

That’s it for this week, Your Highness. Till next time

Closing the note from this week, Taeyong places it back inside of the bouquet, setting it down on his vanity. “Doyoung!” When you delivered today’s bouquet, Taeyong had made specific orders to ensure that it got to him this time. “Could you fetch me some lavender?”

So after the first time, every week Taeyong couldn’t help but find himself lying in wait anxiously just to get your bouquet and read the sweet little notes you left in them. He had made sure to keep every single letter. His room was so full of roses that he had to start placing them all over the palace, but not without making sure to get the little note always cuddled inside. Not only that, he even started to smell like roses and he couldn’t be happier. He soon found himself relying on the little notes left in the bouquets’ to get himself through the week. Even if it was the simplest message just telling him to make sure to eat, drink, and sleep properly it still means the world to him.

He would get so excited for the bouquets that he had even started to make his way down to the palace entrance when he knew you were coming. Doyoung would compare it to a dog waiting on their owner to get home. He swore one of these days he was going to stop being a scaredy cat and go out and accept the bouquet himself, but until that day came he would remain behind the palace doors.

The resounding gong of the grandfather clock echoed throughout the room, alerting Taeyong of the new hour. It’s not like he didn’t already know, though. “It’s 4 o’clock, I have thirty minutes till my roses come.” Signing the last of the documents, stacking them on top of his desk, Taeyong stands, stretching his lithe body in order to get rid of the stiffness in his joints. Walking around his desk, Taeyong makes his way through the door.

A monotone voice laced with sarcasm breaks the silence, scaring Taeyong. “I guess it’s time for your one-sided weekly date. Or is it one-sided since one brings gifts while the other just watches like a creepy stalker?” Doyoung questions, leaning against the wall next to the entrance whilst raising his eyebrow.

“N-no! I mean, yes, it is close to time for the delivery, but it’s not a date.” A light blush covers Taeyong’s cheeks as the word ‘date’ falls from his lips. “I was just leaving to go around the palace and see how everything is going, checking and making sure things are happening the way they should–y’know, kingly duties.”

Turning to face the obviously flustered king, Doyoung gives him a deadpan expression that screams mmhm sure. “All I got from that was that you admit to being a creepy stalker.” Taeyong’s mouth flies open, unable to give a coherent response. “Oops, look at the time! You should probably start making your rounds,” he says, walking out of the room, the sound of Taeyong’s incoherent ramblings drowning out as he walks away.

Sobering up from his conversation with Doyoung, he makes his rounds around the castle, steadily making his way to the entrance, keeping his eyes on the time. By the time he makes it to the entrance, he can see the girl making her way up the palace stairs, still a little dot in the distance. He can’t help but notice the way his hands begin to feel clammy and his heart rate slowly picking up as your face comes into view.

He remembers the first time he came down and was finally able to see your face clearly. He swears it was as if the world stopped. You looked more beautiful than any bouquet he has received from you. He was so flustered that he couldn’t help but to blush every time he thought of you. He knows because Doyoung wouldn’t shut up about the magenta red that spread along his cheeks at random times that day.

He was so focused on looking at you that he didn’t realize the rushed way in which you gave the guard the bouquet. All he knew was that one second he was staring at your face and the next your back as you lightly jogged away. Slight disappointment settles in his stomach as he realizes you didn’t even attempt to convince the guard to give the bouquet to him this time.

The guard walks over, handing the bouquet to the waiting king, not wanting to be gone from her post too long; she quickly turns around, moving to head back before the voice of the emperor stops her. “Wait!” Taeyong notices the tension in her body at the sound of his voice, “Yes, your highness?” she asks, voice shaking slightly.

“Where is the note?”

Turning back around, she faces the emperor. “What note, sir?”

“The note. The one that’s always in her bouquets.” Taeyong notices his voice came out sharper than he intended when he sees the guard flinch slightly. “I apologize; I didn't mean for that to come out so harshly. I just—there’s always a note that comes with her bouquets and-and there’s not one in here.”

“Ah, I don’t believe there was one in there, Your Highness. At least, I didn’t see one when she handed it to me.” Upon seeing the crestfallen look that sits on the emperor's face, the guard instantly offers to check and see if it had fallen off somewhere.

Not wanting to get his hopes up, Taeyong replies, “No you’re fine–it’s fine if you didn’t see it when she handed it to you then it must not have been there in the first place.” Taeyong can hear how disheartened his voice was. Deciding it’s time to go inside, he sends the guard off to go do what they were doing beforehand.

“Hey Tae, how was the–What’s wrong?” Doyoung instantly notices the somber expression placed upon the emperor’s face. “You usually are about ready to jump off of the walls and now you look like the baker just ran out of those sweet potato cubes you get when we go into town.”

“It’s nothing.”

Grabbing Taeyong’s shoulder, Doyoung turns him around so they’re face to face, “That girl didn’t say anything mean in that note she leaves in the bouquets did she? Cause if she did, so help me god- no so help her I will-.”

“Calm down, she didn’t say anything mean. She didn’t say anything at all. There was no note in the bouquet this time.”

“Oh. Uhh well, at least she still delivered the roses. Maybe something happened and she didn’t have time to write the letter,” Doyoung tries to reason, hoping he would be able to say something that would lift his friend’s spirit. Taeyong could tell Doyoung was trying his best to be supportive but there is nothing he could say right now that could make him feel any better.

“Y-yeah, maybe.” Not wanting to think about it anymore, Taeyong leaves for his room with a wave. At least he finished all of his paperwork for the day and he can just lay in bed.

Taeyong finds himself walking through a field filled with flowers without an end in sight. It’s not until he sees the outline of a person sitting in the field that he starts to speed up, hoping he could ask the stranger where he was at.

As he gets closer, the person begins to seem more and more familiar. It has him thinking, trying to figure out who it could be. As if the person hears him they turn around and he’s surprised to see you sitting in the field.

“Hello Taeyong.”

“Ahh hi.” Taeyong can feel his heart rate pick up almost as if it’s trying to jump out of his chest.

“Would you like to sit with me? The bloom is absolutely beautiful today.” Replying with a stiff nod, the usually confident emperor shyly takes a seat in the field of white flowers. Giving the seemingly flustered male a soft smile you pluck one of the flowers out of the field, lifting it up to your nose smelling the fragrant plant.

“Smells heavenly. Would you like to take a sniff?” you ask, taking the flower away from under your nose, handing it to the male opposite you.

Taeyong takes the small white flower out of your hand, lifting it to take a whiff. He immediately recoils as the putrid smell of rotting flesh infiltrates his senses, “Wha-” You snatch the flower away from his hand taking another whiff.

“Smells great, doesn’t it? I love the smell of white poppies.” It’s then that Taeyong’s mind remembers the white flowers that were in the first bouquet that he received from you as well as the meaning of the flowers. Finally taking in his surroundings, Taeyong realises that it’s not just a field of flowers but a field of dead bodies.

“Y’know Taeyong, I used to be sad thinking that I was going to have to go forever without ever getting to see these gorgeous flowers. But because of you and the war your family started, all of these dead bodies were able to sit here and grow some of the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen.” By now you have picked up a whole bouquet worth of the poppies, little pieces of rotted flesh hanging off of the bottoms, “Too bad I had to die before I got to see them.”

After hearing her last sentence Taeyong takes a good look at the girl, noticing that the white poppies she had collected were all from her body. “Y’know maybe you should die too so you can fully witness the beauty of these flowers,” you say with a slight tilt to not only your voice but your head.

Before he can question it you’re already driving a spear through Taeyong’s heart.

“Taeyong you look like absolute shit. Do you really think you should be going into town like that?” The bags under Taeyong’s eyes look bigger and heavier than the robe on his shoulders. It has been a week since you dropped off the bouquet without a note.

“Yes, Doyoung. It’s been a month, we don’t want people to worry.”

“Funny. You say you don’t want them to worry but you look like the living dead. They’ll worry either way.” The guard rebutts, crossing his arms sassily.

“Doie, I don’t have the time nor the energy to argue with you, just please can we go?”

“That’s just it. You always have time and energy to argue with me! Taeyong, it’s been a week; it was just one note out of hundreds. Who knows; maybe she just forgot to put it in the bouquet, but regardless of what happened you can't keep moping around and carrying yourself like this. You’re an emperor, for pete’s sake! What will you do when she stops bringing the bouquets?”

Taeyong freezes. What will he do? He can't expect you to deliver bouquets forever, can he? At some point you’ll get tired of it, tired of him, and what will he do then? Standing straight, Taeyong makes his way out of the palace, head held impossibly high.

“I- dammit Taeyong I didn’t mean it like-”

“No. You’re right, I can’t expect her to always bring the bouquets, that's selfish of me.” I can't always expect her to be here. It's selfish to expect her to be here. “Come on, we have people to see,” he says, climbing inside of the carriage.

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

Finally done unpacking your clothes from the last minute trip you had to take last week, you plop onto your bed, completely beat. One of the families you delivered medicine to ran out suddenly and you had to rush to their house so that their child did not die. You spent the rest of the week nursing the child back to health after they had to go without medicine.

The thing is, you got the message in the middle of making the emperor’s bouquet for that week and you didn’t have the time to make a note to put in the bouquet. Even though you know that the emperor doesn’t receive the bouquets at all, you still felt the guilt sitting in the pit of your stomach that entire week.

You don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until you’re woken by a series of rushed knocks on your pharmacy door. Getting out of bed reluctantly, you grab your apron, tying it around your waist and walking to the door in order to go see who it is.

“Chamomile Pharmacy, how may I–” you start opening the door until you get sight of the person on the other side and quickly slam the door back in place. Why was Emperor Taeyong at your door?!? And why did you just slam the door in his face? Reopening the door, you start bowing and apologizing to the seemingly starstruck emperor at once. “I-I am so sorry Your Highness, I didn’t mean to do that, it’s just you caught me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting it to be you behind the door,” you hurriedly attempt to explain until Taeyong is knocked out of the way by his royal guard Doyoung.

“We don’t have time for this right now. You can have your little–whatever this is later. We need you to make more of this medicine for Mr. Young immediately. We showed up at his house right as he passed out and this was on his counter!”

Grabbing the bottle, you realize this is the heart elixir you made him some time ago, “Shit! Okay I’ll be right back. I need to go grab something out of the garden first,” You quickly tell the men, writing at the speed of light on a piece of paper. “Here, while I’m getting that I need you two to look and find these in that cabinet over there. I need everything ready for when I get back so I can quickly get this to him.”

Rushing out into the garden, you quickly sort through various plants until you find the two you’re looking for. You barge back into the pharmacy to see that Doyoung and the emperor got a little over half of the ingredients down. “Okay, even though everything isn’t down yet I’m going to go ahead and get started. One of you, continue to look for everything while the other comes over here and gives me a hand. We have to hurry.” You are so focused on getting the medicine done that you don’t even notice Taeyong handing you the supplies.

Finishing up the elixir and gathering all of the utensils, you stuff them into your rucksack and run out of the door. “We rode horses over here, it’s faster than on foot. Hop on Taeyong’s; we have to go,” Doyoung all but commands as he mounts his horse, already taking off. The adrenaline pumping through your system helps to keep you calm about the fact that you now have your arms wrapped around Taeyong’s waist and are currently on a horse with him.

In no time you’re riding up to Mr. Young's homely brick house, the one that he and his late wife built back when they were younger. Pushing your way into the house, you see the old man lying on a cot on the floor. Taking everything out, you lie it on a towel next to you on the floor and pull on a pair of gloves.

Quickly checking the old man's pulse, you let out a breath in relief that it’s still there but very faint. You take a pair of medical scissors and cut his shirt open. Grabbing the bottle containing the green elixir and a needle syringe you urgently but carefully extract some of the liquid from the bottle. At this point the silence in the room is deafening, but you’re only able to hear the white noise buzzing in your ears, blocking out any and all distractions.

You check and make sure that it’s the right amount before giving the syringe a slight squeeze, pushing a few drops of the liquid out of the needle. Taking a deep breath, you harshly stab the needle into the man’s chest, forcing the liquid through the needle, unknowingly garnering stiff gasps from those who are watching. You immediately retract the syringe only to place your hand on the same spot, firmly yet softly massaging it.

After massaging for a couple of minutes you sit back, bated breaths falling from your lips. “You can take him to his room now, he needs to rest. I’ll go make some tea for everyone.” Gathering your supplies, you take them to the kitchen to disinfect and sterilize them. Behind the doors of the kitchen you finally feel yourself calm down and it’s then that you notice the intense way in which your hands are shaking.

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

Everything was going fine, and he was almost done making his rounds with everyone. One of the last people he had to meet with was Mr. Young, the sweet old man who always made him help pick things out of his garden, and that’s when the day took a turn. Was it for the worse? Taeyong didn’t know yet. Walking in on the man passed out on the floor shook Taeyong to his core. When he and Doyoung finally noticed the empty bottle on the countertop, they read the label which stated the pharmacy where the medicine was from.

From there, they took two of the guard’s horses and were off to find the pharmacy. It’s there that Taeyong found you, though the circumstances were less than great. He still couldn’t believe you were right there in front of him, but the moment was over after Doyoung realized what was happening. Now that everything had calmed down and Mr. Young was okay, the fact that you were just a few steps away in the kitchen was eating at the emperor.

“I don’t get why you just don’t go in there and talk to her.” Doyoung spoke suddenly, sounding bored with his life after noticing the way in which the king fidgeted in his chair, eyes constantly flitting to look back and forth from the kitchen door to his feet.

“I mean, it’s not like she can do anything; you’re an emperor for god’s sake. Unless you want to continue being a creepy stalker, I suggest you go in there and tell her that you’ve been receiving her bouquets and you like them or some shit like that.”

“I-I can’t just barge in there and–”

“He only had jasmine tea in his cabinets, so I hope there’s nothing wrong with that,” you say, walking into the living room with a tray of tea-filled cups in your hands.

“Jasmine is fine,” Doyoung replied, simultaneously leaning down to pick up his cup. Taeyong suddenly couldn’t speak as you looked at him expectantly, wanting to make sure he was okay with jasmine tea. All he could do was look up at your glowing face with eyes that might as well be in the shape of hearts. “Ah jasmine is good for him as well. Forgive my liege, he's still a little shaken up from the situation.”

With a soft nod you turn around, moving to make your way back into the kitchen. It was then that Taeyong’s mouth and mind decided to move as one. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“Oh, uhm, I was going back to the kitchen. I figured you two would want to be alone,” you say, almost cradling the board to your body, gesturing awkwardly towards the door.

“You don’t have to. Why don’t you sit in here, with us?”

“I mean, if you’re fine with that.”

“I’m fine, I’m more than fine.” The words were out of Taeyong’s mouth before he could even process them fully. You move to sit on the other side of the loveseat beside Taeyong.

The sound of purposeful slurping provided by Doyoung barely sufficed at cutting the tension in the room. “I just remembered, we never seemed to have gotten your name?” Doyoung asked, ending the silence that layered the house.

Quickly swallowing the tea in your mouth, you reply “Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me, my name is Y/n. I’m the owner of Chamomile Pharmacy.” You add a bright smile at the end.

“Owner, huh? You must really like medicine.”

“Hmm, I guess you could say that, but not really. I mainly just like flowers, and growing up I realized all the medicinal benefits they hold, so I figured why not make money and spend my life surrounded by what I love?” You sit back in the seat, seemingly comfortable now that you’re talking about a passion. “I get to help people while surrounded by plants all day; it’s a win-win.”

“Mmhm, that sounds lovely. Oh, Taeyong.” The king’s head practically snaps up at the mention of his name. Spotting the mischievous look in his best friend's eyes, his stomach practically dropped to the floor. “You love flowers as well, specifically roses. Don’t you, Your Highness?”

“I–”

“Yeah, I distinctly remember your love for roses starting after receiving a bouquet full of them every week.” Doyoung had no idea that this was the flower girl at first, but Taeyong could tell by the way he had been acting ever since you came around that he had come to piece it together–especially after you blatantly declared your love for flowers just a few mere seconds ago.

At his words, your mouth fell open in pure unadulterated shock. The emperor had been receiving your bouquets?! And he liked them? You had no idea how to feel with all of the mixed emotions flowing through you.

Wide eyed, you ask, “You’ve been receiving my bouquets, Your Highness?”

Taeyong is flustered when he replies, “Y-Yes I have, they are very… nice. Thank you for them.”

“He really likes the little love notes you put in them,” Doyoung adds, deliberately putting the word love in front of notes. At his words, Taeyong throws the harshest glare he could at the other man, wishing he could strangle him with his eyes alone.

While Taeyong was glaring daggers at the knight, you couldn’t help but feel sheepish. You thought you were giving those flowers away for nothing, only to realize that the emperor had been getting them and he liked them. Then you remembered that you had forgotten the note in your last one.

“Ah, I just remembered that I forgot to put a note in the last one.” You speak bashfully, lowering your head. “Well, I didn’t forget, per say, I just didn’t have the time–an emergency came up while I was making it and I had to hurry. I didn’t think it would matter that much since you weren’t getting them, but now I know you were, so I feel bad.”

“No, it’s okay, I understand. There’s no need for you to feel bad, things happen.” Taeyong finally speaks, not liking the obvious way in which you blame yourself. Standing up, he motions to a door, stating that he has to use the restroom.

The room sits silent at Taeyong’s absence. You still feel guilty, but before you can think too hard about it, Doyoung shocks you out of your thoughts with a question, “Y/n, why do you always give roses?”

“Hm? Oh, why roses? Well that's easy, because he’s The Rose Emperor .” Doyoung lifts an eyebrow in question. “Ah, I forgot that I’m the only one who calls him that,” you explain quickly. “Well, one of the reasons is because he has this beautiful rose-shaped scar right under his right eye. And I mean, he’s like a rose. Pretty and elegant and practically harmless to the unsuspecting eye, but he has thorns, which he uses to keep people away, thorns he uses to hide things from everyone, even those closest…”You trail off for a moment, thinking. “Hmm, if you think about it that way, wouldn’t that mean we're all like roses?” You speak nonchalantly, looking somewhat deeply into your cup of tea. “So that would make this world a bed of roses, wouldn’t it?”

Standing but a few feet away, hiding behind a wall, the man in question couldn’t help but overhear. The way you talked and the words you used to describe him made his heart pound. You sounded so sweet and genuine, and he couldn’t help but believe every word you said. His hand uncontrollably caresses the scar you mentioned. He never noticed that it looked like a rose.

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

“Doyoung, I need to borrow some of your clothes.” Busting into the guard’s room, the emperor pants quickly, garnering the man’s attention.

“Wha–for what?”

“No questions, I just need them,” the young ruler says, walking into the man's wardrobe. “Oh and if you have a hat and mask, I’m going to take those, too.”

Taeyong’s presence in the shop is known as soon as he walks through the door, a bell ringing upon contact. Hurriedly pretending to scan the shelves as if searching extremely hard for something, Taeyong hears you enter the room through the back door moments later.

“Sorry for not greeting you as soon as you came in. I was doing a little gardening in the back. Is there anything I can help you with today?” you ask, simultaneously washing the slight dirt off of your hands at the sink.

Knowing it would be rude to not acknowledge you, Taeyong turns to face you, self-consciously tugging on the mask resting on his face, not knowing if he wants you to know it’s him or not. You walk over after drying your hands, ready to help the customer, finally getting a good look at the man’s mask-covered face. You freeze in your spot, not knowing if you are just delusional or if Emperor Taeyong is actually standing in the middle of your pharmacy.

“Uhh Your Highness..?” you question slowly, giving the stranger room to deny if needed.

“I–uhmm yes,” Taeyong stutters, taking the mask off of his face, revealing his apparently not-so-secret identity. Despite breathing just fine a few seconds ago, Taeyong seems to not be able to when you give him a dazzling smile. You ask him why he’s here and if he needs anything. “Yes, I’m here because I, uhh, need something to help with… headaches! Yes, I get headaches, y’know, from reading papers all day.”

“I have just the thing to help with that! I get headaches myself, and I find that the plant Feverfew helps a good bit. The plant itself can be a little strong and could cause irritation to the mouth if chewed, so I just grind it up and make a nice little diluted concoction with it, and it does wonders,” you say, grabbing the bottle containing the liquid, placing it on the counter, and making your way to the other side so you could bag the medicine.

“I must warn you, though–it can have very light side effects that can cause nausea, digestive problems, and bloating.” Finishing up you place the now bagged medicine on the counter sliding it over to Taeyong.

“Ah, how much do I owe?”

“Nonsense, you’re good, consider it the Monarch's discount.” Thanking you, the emperor grabs the bag, making his way out the door, “Bye, come again.”

After the first time, Taeyong continued to visit the store, each time for a different reason. He stayed a little longer each time he visited, finding himself wanting to indulge in your presence more and more. Even when you would go to the palace to deliver your weekly bouquets he would come out now just to start a conversation with you. You both would end up just sitting on the palace steps talking for hours on end.

Now was one of the times when you would sit outside the palace talking with the king.

“Your Highness, word was just sent in from the WayV kingdom, and there are forms to be signed urgently.” Doyoung addressed the young emperor, throwing an apologetic look at you for ruining your time together.

A breath falls past your lips as you push yourself up. “Oh well, I guess that’s my cue to leave. See you later, Your High-”

“Wait. Why don’t you come inside with me? This shouldn’t take too long.”

You and Doyoung gape at the emperor, both in shock. Wanting to hurry and get things settled, Taeyong passes both of your almost statuesque bodies. Doyoung offers to show you around while Taeyong does his work but the emperor quickly refuses. “I’ll do it when I finish.”

Grabbing your wrist, Taeyong all but drags you to his office. There are so many twists and turns that you have no idea how Taeyong didn’t get lost. “You can sit over there on the couch in the foyer. I have some books on the shelf over there you can read if you want. I'll be right here behind this desk.”

Taking in the extravagant office, you can’t help but notice how roses cover almost every single open surface possible. He really did keep every rose he got from you. Just that thought alone makes your heart pound so hard that you can hear it beating in your ears. Deciding you should do something before you look weird, you walk over to the shelf, surveying the books available to you.

You pick a book that looks good enough and sit down on the couch.You try to focus on the words in front of you, but the room is warm, and the couch is comfortable, and your eyelids begin to feel heavy. You didn’t realize you fell asleep until you felt Taeyong gently shaking you awake. The sun had started to set, casting a beautiful warm golden glow around the room.

Taeyong sat beside you on the couch, still grasping your shoulder as you both stared intensely at each other. You felt yourself slowly leaning towards the beautiful man, almost as if you were in a trance. Taeyong couldn’t help but take in every gorgeous feature on your face as it was surrounded by a golden halo.

Moving his hands from your shoulder to the nape of your neck he pulls you in, no longer able to hide the attraction he has for you. Your lips mingled in a dance only privy to them. Leaving the one on your neck the other moves to the side of your face, Taeyong positions you just how he wants and you couldn’t help but to give in to him.

It was as if his entire being consumed you and you had no choice but to follow his lead. Removing his mouth from yours he steadily transitions his lips lower splaying damp kisses all around your jugular. “Y-your highness, m-maybe we should stop.”

“Call me Taeyong darling and I don’t want to stop if you don’t.” he says, eyes flitting up to look at yours. “Do you want to stop?”

Feeling a fire burning in your stomach setting your lower regions ablaze, you know you can’t give him anything but the truth, “No, I don’t want to stop Taeyong.” Taeyong’s satisfied hum rumbles against your collarbone, “That’s my girl.”

His lips find their way back to yours, an involuntary moan falling from yours as Taeyong pushes his tongue inside your mouth. He takes his time exploring your mouth as if he wanted to get acquainted with every nook and cranny. When he took his lips away this time it was as if he took your soul right with him. A small discontent whine leaves your mouth causing the male to coo, “Aww look at my precious rose, so needy already.”

He plants a small peck on your lips pushing you to lay back on the couch, “May I remove your pants darling?” Giving him a small head nod he starts to lower himself down to your now wet core. Your underwear comes off right along with your pants and the slightly cool air hitting your hot core feels almost heavenly.

Lifting your legs on top of his shoulders Taeyong plants soft kisses along your pelvic region finally deciding to stop teasing he licks a long slow stripe up your wet pussy making sure to give a little more pressure right onto your clit.

Taeyong’s hands move to sit in the crevice of your pelvis, tightening his grip simultaneously bringing you closer to his mouth as he proceeds to contort his tongue between your soft lips as a pianist moves their fingers across the keys aiming to hit the right notes to make you sing.

Your voice cracks almost violently as endless moans drip from your lips like sap out a tree. Eyes sealed shut you can’t help but to see stars as Taeyong makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. His soft hair rests between your fingers latching onto the strands for dear life as you attempt to somehow ground yourself.

If he wasn’t holding you down you know for a fact that you would be humping his face akin to a dog in heat. “Fuck.” he moans between your legs sending vibrations all the way down your body. Suckling your lips between his as he looks up at your face scrunched in pleasure, “Open your eyes baby, look at me.”

You should not have had as much trouble as you did opening your eyes but after a few seconds you finally were able to do so. “I want you to focus on me baby, watch me eat this succulent pussy of yours until you cum.” One of his hands moves, transitioning to start rubbing your clit applying ample pressure.

His tongue starts to prod at the opening to the place in which you seemed to want him the most right now. The combination of his mouth and hands was too much and you felt your legs start shaking as you alerted Taeyong of your oncoming orgasm. “That’s it baby, cum for me. I want to see it.”

You didn’t even know your voice could go as high as it did in that moment. Your labored breaths were halted as Taeyong pressed his wet lips to yours causing you to taste yourself on his lips. “You still up for that tour?”

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

“Your Highness, there have been reports of an outbreak of some sorts. For right now it’s small but we have no idea what it is or where it came from.” Doyoung says, ending his report on current events.

“Okay, since this is something we have no prior dealings with we need to tread carefully. Get everyone who might be infected and make sure they’re getting proper care. Talk to them, see what their symptoms are and ask what they were doing before they got sick. Maybe we can try and piece together how you contract it.”

“Should we alert the public, Your Highness?”

“No, not for now at least. This is still manageable. We don't want to scare everyone for no reason.” Finishing up his duties, Taeyong starts to head to your house.

You had yet to talk to Taeyong about what happened that day despite having seen each other multiple times since then. Not like you regretted it or anything you just felt bad about Taeyong servicing you and you not being able to return the favor. You were interrupted in the middle of your naughty thoughts when you heard soft knocks ring against the door not to the pharmacy but to your house placed on the side of the pharmacy.

Answering the door you only expected to see one person on the other side of the door. “Hi Taeyong.” you breathe softly gazing at the male opposite you.

“Hello my rose.” placing a kiss on his lips you let him enter the room. Taeyong pulls two books out from his bag and you hurriedly rush over to where Taeyong sits on your bed grabbing your book as Taeyong pulls you onto his lap. Reading for a while your mind can’t help but to go back to what happened.

Taeyong can feel the air in the room change as you squirm on his lap. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“Uhh nothing Yongie.”

Grabbing a hold of your waist Taeyong lowers his head to your ear, “It doesn’t feel like nothing darling.” His warm breath hits your ears as he slowly lets his tongue dart out and lick a stripe up the shell of your ear.

“I- just want to pleasure you as well. Last time you only focused on me and I want to return the favor.” you speak turning around in the male’s lap legs wrapping around his waist. You bring the male into a feverous/feverish? Kiss. You hear his breath hitch as you slowly grind down onto his semi hard dick, and you feel the grip he has on your waist tighten.

Moving yourself to Taeyong’s thigh instead of his entire lap. You maneuver his pants off leaving his boxers on. You slip your hand between your bodies reaching for Taeyong’s boxer clad cock. Lightly squeezing while massaging his length you lean forward gingerly planting kisses along his neck swirling your tongue on each spot you kiss.

“Shit Y/n.”

“You want me to take it out, Yongie? Do you want me to wrap my hands around your hard dick and rub you till you cum all over my hands.” you tease applying more pressure to his hard appendage, “Hmm maybe I’ll even let you watch me lick your cum off of my hands.”

“Oh Fuck yes.”

“That doesn’t sound like begging to me baby.”

“Hmm please baby, please take it out and make me cum.”

You grin, squeezing his now fully hard cock harder, “Well since you asked so nicely.” Your hand moves to the band of his boxers removing the clothing. His erect penis pops up, slapping the male’s clothed abdomen after finally being released.

You let a few drops of spit fall onto the palm of your hand before giving Taeyong what he wants, gripping him. You slowly start to work your hand up and down his stiff cock fluctuating the strength you use to grip it.

“How does that feel Tae? Are you enjoying yourself sweetheart?” you whisper in his ear speeding up your ministrations. A broken moan falls from the semi pouted lips of the emperor. The feel of your hand gripping his cock felt like heaven he could barely think.

The slick sound of your hand going up and down his dick was all that could be heard throughout the room. Taking your other hand you begin to not only stroke his length but also fondle his balls. “Ah, Y/n I’m not going to last much longer please make me cum.” Wanting to give him what he wanted you run the pad of your thumb along the underside of him and slowly massage the bundle of nerves just under the head.

As soon as you do, a whimper leaves Taeyong’s lips as his head falls forward resting on your shoulder. His mouth starts sucking on any pieces of exposed skin he can find and you feel him mumble against your shoulder, “I’m cumming.” His warm release falls onto your hands covering them as you try to squeeze out every last drop. Raising your hand to your mouth you lick some of the cum off of your hand tasting him.

“Fuck sweetie you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Taeyong. It’s gotten worse. The illness has started spreading; our attempt at keeping it contained was a failure. While it did slow the spread, it did nothing to stop it.”

Slamming his hand on the desk Taeyong couldn’t help but to curse, “Fuck! Did you at least figure out how it’s contracted and its symptoms?”

“Yes, after questioning the patients it became pretty clear that it wasn’t contracted in any specific way. Almost all have reports of having been in public settings surrounded by a lot of people and said a few days later they caught a pretty nasty cold. Instead of it going away like a normal cold does, it started to get worse, pretty soon they couldn't move at all, not even lift a finger. After developing hot flashes, they start to lose the ability to speak, and you know they are about to die when they start to have rashes appear upon their skin.”

“Have you asked the doctors if they can find a cure?”

“Yes, we have already put them onto it, but for now there is nothing.”

Thinking about what he should do, Taeyong's hand comes up to scratch his jawline. He knows that he has to alert the public of the outbreak now. “Okay, since there is no discernible way in which they get it, we can assume for now that it is passed from excessive human contact. Doyoung, I need you to release a statement stating that there should be no excessive contact between everyone. If able to avoid big crowds then stay away.”

Writing the commands down in a notebook, Doyoung asks, “Anything else?”

“Yes, since it has gotten a lot bigger now, the public must be alerted, even though by now I am sure they have each heard their own variations of what’s happening. It’s better to tell them the truth than lie. We need everyone to be fully informed with correct information so that they don’t make things worse.” A tired sigh falls from his lips, “Release a doctor’s statement. I want the royal doctor to make a statement that will tell the public all they need to know about this new illness so they can protect themselves.”

“On it, Your Highness.” Doyoung says, turning around and quickly heading out the door. You were supposed to come visit Taeyong today. He's glad he gets to see you. You always make things better for him. You walk into Taeyong’s office to him writing something in a notebook. He was so involved in what he was writing that he didn’t hear you come in.

“Hey Yongie.” Walking over to the male, you see him raise his head from the paper, looking at you with a dazzling smile.

“Hello, beautiful.” Taeyong pulls you into his lap, “How was your day, my rose?” You start rambling on about what was going on at the pharmacy, and Taeyong finds himself zoning out looking at you talking animatedly about a customer you had today. It’s times like these where Taeyong realizes he could never live his life without you.

Taeyong has been really busy lately, dealing with the disease outbreak. You guys have hardly seen each other. New word had been put out about the disease after one of the people who are believed to have gotten it first were found. Sadly they were on their last string, but their family said something about them eating a strange fruit some odd days before they had gotten sick.

Business for you has practically skyrocketed, people hurrying to get all types of medicines just out of plain fear that they might contract the disease. Even though there is no cure yet, they still think that arthritis medicine will somehow help them.

You had secretly been working on your own attempt at creating a cure, wanting to help Taeyong and get some of the pressure off of his shoulders and wanting to help the people affected by this disease. Of course it has gotten nowhere, but at least you try.

You had asked Taeyong what the fruit that their family said they ate looked like in hopes of being able to find it and base an antidote off of that. He gave you the same description they gave him, but it didn’t lead anywhere. Noticing how empty the pharmacy had become, you felt it was the perfect time to go pick up some bread.

Flipping the sign and locking the door you head towards the bakery. Ever since the decree had been made for people to not group together, the streets had been the emptiest you had ever seen. Walking in, you couldn’t help but notice the other people that stood around talking waiting on their baked goods. Putting in your order, you stand off to the side.

“You know, they say that Emperor Taeyong has caught the disease.”

“What?! You can’t be serious.”

“Why would I joke about something like that?” the first lady says, looking well over offended. “I have a friend who has a cousin who has a brother who has a boyfriend that works in the palace.”

“Woah, so you basically know the emperor.”

“Exactly. I swear on it, the emperor has the disease.” You proceed to tune out the gossiping women on the other side of the room. You know that there’s a good chance the lady is lying, but what if Taeyong has the disease? He hasn’t come to visit in a few days. You feel your chest constrict at the mere thought.

You’re so distraught that you don’t hear the baker telling you your order is ready until after she walks up to you and hands you your bread. “Oh, uhh thank you.” Giving the lady a small nod, you walk out of the bakery.

When you get back to the house, you check for mail and find some in the mailbox next to your door. Picking it up, you notice the royal insignia on the envelope. Figuring it’s from Taeyong, you instantly start to tear it open.

Hello my rose, I don’t know how to say this to you, but I’m sick, really sick. I got the disease. I’m so sorry darling. Worst of all is I can’t even see you. I absolutely forbid you from coming here. Do you hear me? From now until we meet again, we can communicate by letter. I love you so much, my rose.

Love, Your Yongie

As your mind slowly starts to register the note, your knees instantly give out, bringing you to the floor of your living room. You can barely register the sting from the impact. You couldn’t help but let out a broken gut-wrenching cry. Your tears feel like fire as they run down your face. You clutch your heart; it’s as if you can feel it breaking.

Everyday Taeyong sends you a letter and everyday you put it in the pile with the others. It broke your heart every time you would put the letters unopened together with the others and never wrote a response back, but recently you had thrown your entire being into finding a cure for the disease. You couldn’t risk another breakdown like when you first found out, because every single second matters.

Every second you spend trying to find a cure brings you closer to a forever with Taeyong, and you couldn’t risk that. You still open and run the pharmacy like normal, but even then you spend all of your time asking customers everything they know about the disease and whatever anyone they knew who had it was going through.

Lately, the way you’ve been going at it was to find the fruit that supposedly started it all and find out why the human body reacts so badly to it. You just managed to find it yesterday while you were out in the forest for the third time hunting for it. You were planning to do some tests and see what you possibly can do.

A series of harsh knocks rain upon the pharmacy door and the irritation at the possible customer shows on your face. “I’m sorry but we’re clo–” Your sentence stops abruptly as Doyoung harshly shoves past you, the anger and tension in his body evident.

“You know, you have some fucking nerve. Taeyong is literally dying right now, he is fucking dying yet he still manages to write you everyday. And on days when he can’t muster the strength he gets someone to write what he says.” Whipping his body around he faces you, face scrunched in a horrendous snarl, “And you can’t even take the time to write a fucking letter back. All you do is sit in this pharmacy and play in your stupid garden all day.”

It’s then that he notices the pile of letters sitting neatly on your desk, a scoff pushes its way past his lips, “Oh my fucking god, you didn’t have the decency to even open them. Have you ever even loved him? Tell me. Honestly.” He stares directly into your eyes, the fire in them seemingly endless. “Or was he just some toy? A part in some plan you had to get rich and become an empress or some shit. Did you just use my best friend for your own selfish reasons?”

Your mouth opens, preparing to say something only for it to close again. Repeating that process multiple times you find out that there were no words you could say that would satisfy him. “And it’s funny because if that was your plan, then it worked. I know you don’t know but Taeyong planned to propose, he wanted–no, wants to spend the rest of his life with you. I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but oh well.” At his statement, your mouth falls open again, leaving you utterly speechless.

A moment of silence passes and a heavy sigh from the male fills the air. He stares tiredly at your desk, exasperated. “He’s dying, simple as that. Doctor says he doesn’t have much longer before the rashes start popping up. His estimate was at most two weeks.” With his face angled away from you, the tears that streamed down his face weren’t visible. “Do what you will with that information. I don’t have the time for this.”

Turning his body, Doyoung walks out the door, leaving a chill in the air. You don’t even have it in you to cry. Your sorrow runs farther than any river in the world, yet the thought that kept you from breaking down was Taeyong’s smile. Then you realized you would never be able to see it again if there was no cure. Swiping away the tears that managed to fall, you get back to work. Taeyong wasn’t going to die on your watch.

Your chest felt so tight, like it was squeezing all of the air out of your lungs. You could barely feel the shock of your heavy footfalls on the pavement as you ran like your life depended on it. The steps to the palace have never seemed longer as you ran, hoping you made it in time. Passing guards all were blurs as you swore you were running at the speed of light.

Making your way to Taeyong’s room, you see a distraught Doyoung crouched outside of the door. His silent cries cued your heart to fall to your aching feet. Barely able to get the words out you ask, “Am I too late, is-is he g-gone?” Your voice broke as you spoke those words. Doyoung doesn’t say anything as he silently raises his head to look at you. “I can’t be late. I-I found it, I found the cure. I have the cure to save Taeyong.”

Not able to withstand Doyoung’s gaze, you burst through the king’s bedroom doors, instantly spotting the palace doctor at his bed. Taeyong lays lifelessly on the bed, chest barely managing to move up and down. This was not the Taeyong you knew, not the man you fell in love with. This man was just but a shell of him. You had never seen his skin so pale, his face sunken in to the point where you can easily see his cheekbones you loved to rain kisses on.

“Doctor.” Your gaze shifts from the sleeping male to the doctor beside him, “He’s not… dead, is he?”

“No, not yet, but I do recommend you give your last goodbyes.”

Walking up the man, you forcefully push the vial containing the cure into his hands, “Here, this is the cure.” Broken stutters leave the man's mouth as he questions the integrity of your statement. “Listen, we don’t have a lot of time; just trust that it will work. I have tested it on five different people, all of varying ages, and four out of five of those people survived. The only reason the fifth didn’t was because they were too far gone.”

You update the doctor on what the antidote is and what it does. “The antidote is not a cure per say, it doesn’t get rid of the disease. I studied the fruit that the disease stems from and something in the DNA of it, let's just say it doesn't agree with something in our DNA, which causes basically an allergic reaction times 100. This antidote soothes the part of our DNA that reacts so badly, and that in turn stops the allergic reaction so that it doesn’t kill us. Now that I’ve wasted time explaining that to you, can we please get the antidote in his system?”

All of your talking caused the sickly emperor to awaken to your voice in the room with him. “Y/n, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to not come here. I-”

“Taeyong, calm down, baby, please. I am here to save you.” You nod to the doctor giving him the go for the injection. “The doctor is about to inject the cure for the disease into you, then you’re going to get better for me, okay?”

After administering the shot, Taeyong had fallen asleep again from lack of energy. It had been 10 hours and you sat every single one on his bedside, wanting to be the first to see him. In those 10 hours, you told the doctor how to make more of the cure so that he could get it to everyone, and Doyoung finally came into the room after hearing what you had done, and gave you a proper apology for snapping at you.

You feel a hand grip yours, and you snap your head up to see Taeyong looking back at you with a smile as big as he could conjure right now placed on his face. Quickly handing him some water, you start to question how he feels. Telling you he feels the best he has in weeks was good enough to satiate you for now.

When Taeyong had finally convinced you to lay in bed with him, you chose this moment to give him his answer.

“Yes.” A look of confusion covers Taeyong’s face as he wonders what you are saying yes to. “Yes, I will marry you.”

You and Taeyong decided not to have a huge wedding, instead choosing to hold a ceremony with just a few of your closest friends, but you did have to present yourself to the empire now as the new empress.

“Are you ready, my rose?” Taeyong asks, walking up behind you in front of the mirror, enclosing his arms around your waist. You turn around to look at him directly, taking in his attire.

“Why do you have such a heavy robe?” you question, noticing the heavy piece of clothing. You’d always wondered that whenever you would see him out of the palace.

Shrugging his shoulders, Taeyong plants a kiss upon your cheek, “I-I don’t know it’s just customary, I never thought to change it.”

“Well, for my first decree as empress, I declare that you get a new robe, a lighter one.” you say, dusting the imaginary dust off of his shoulders. “You don’t need to have such a heavy weight on your shoulders. You can tell it weighs you down. I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

“Will do, my empress. Come, we have to go now.”

It was getting to the last leg of the parade the citizens held in your honor. You felt so welcome by everyone. You were expecting people to hate you because you weren’t already a royal before you married Taeyong. “How are you holding up, darling? I know these things can take a lot out of people.”

“I am fine, my love, just slightly tired.” You can’t help but wave at every person you see, feeding off of their enthusiasm. Overcome with emotion, Taeyong can’t help it when he cradles your face in his hands, lowering his head whilst tilting yours to give him room, and plants a loving kiss upon your cheek. Your cheeks were on fire at his public display of affection in front of everyone, yet you found yourself fully indulging in the kiss, closing your eyes in hopes of savoring the moment. The kiss caused an uproar within the crowd, the citizens ecstatic at the relationship between you both.

“Taeyong, what was that earlier today? Why’d you kiss me?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I couldn’t help it when I saw you and how happy you looked waving at everyone,” he explains pulling you into another kiss, but this time on the lips. Slowly the kiss becomes heated and you start pawing at each other's clothes, almost ripping them off. Taeyong plants kisses along your neck as you begin to fondle his soft manhood.

You feel Taeyong’s hand slide to your cunt rubbing your clit, “Looks like someones already ready for me. I wonder who made you this wet sweetie.” he taunts, slowly pressing one finger inside of you then a second curving them up and spreading them out in order to stretch your tight hole. Your low breathy moans fill the room bouncing off of each and every wall.

Pretty soon you both are ready, blindly walking yourself to the bed you land on the soft cushion with an oomph. Taeyong slowly grinds his now hard cock up and down your slit puposely prodding at your clit. You wriggle your hips silently begging the male to hurry up and put it in.

Giving into you because he was just as excited Taeyong finally slides himself in, his stiffness getting completely engulfed by your wet hot cavern. “Mmm, I’ll never get used to how well your needy pussy takes me in baby.” His slow thrusts simultaneously scratching that itch but just enough to make it come back for more.

“Harder Tae, I need to feel you wreck me.” Granting your wish taeyong stops the gentle loving strokes, swapping them out for a harsher more unforgiving thrusts. His hips smack yours as Taeyong puts what feels like all the power he has in his thrusts. You close your eyes and see stars as Taeyong fucks your soul out of you. His hands have an unforgiving grip on your waist, one going up to massage your breast, teasing your nipple.

Taeyong starts laying kisses along your body leaving purple spots in his wake. “ I want everyone to see that you are mine and I am yours forever and always.” Whispering in your ear, “Go ahead and cum for me baby, let everyone know what we’re doing so they can see who you belong to.”

You all but scream Taeyong’s name out in pure ecstasy as you cum the hardest you ever have to date. It felt as if you had been transported to another world. Taeyong cums right behind you filling you to the brim with his seed. “It’s a little too late to say this now but I think it’s about time we start thinking about children.” He says pulling himself out of your now swollen lower region.

“Oh my god shut up, I hate you,” you cry, out rolling your eyes

“I love you too, my rose.”

#nct taeyong #taeyong #taeyong x reader #taeyong fluff #taeyong smut #nct 127 Taeyong #nct x reader #nct taeyong smut #nct taeyong fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 smut #nct u fluff #nct u smut #nct 2020 #nct 127 #bed of roses #MY STORIES

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the-last-kenobi · 3 years

Note

Hi! I love your writing and was excited to see you're taking requests! Could you do 10 with majorly hurt Obi-Wan and the 212th like trying not to completely freak out?

Aww, thank you! <3 Happy to oblige darling. And ooooh, the underrated 212th! I’m so happy to write them. I hope this does them justice.

From this various prompts list.

“Cody! No! Pull the men back!”

“What?”

“There!”

A burst of flame that lit the world up in blinding heat. A strange echoing noise.

A scream.

Cody thought that he would see that moment burned behind his eyelids for the rest of his life.

It was still swimming before his eyes even as he frantically tried to deal with the aftermath, as he tried to force his brain to engage with the present moment.

Right now, right here, Obi-Wan was gasping for air, his whole body twitching and writhing beneath Cody’s hands, blood staining his face, his chest, everything. Everything was painted with hot, metallic red and Cody for the first time wanted to vomit at the sight of blood.

“Hold him still!” the medic beside him barked. Cody didn’t even know his name. He always knew their names, but right now nothing was lodging in his brain except General Kenobi and his ragged screams.

“I’m trying,” he snapped back. “Help him!”

The medic gave him a strained look and then returned his focus to the man bleeding out on their watch.

“Does he need bacta?” Cody asked desperately. This time the medic didn’t glance up at him at all absorbed in pressing down forcefully on one of the darkest red stains pooling across the pale tunics, his other hand searching far more gently along the other side of the torso.

The General groaned, his feet kicking involuntarily, scraping the dust.

“No,” the medic said brusquely. “Bacta is for repairing clean injuries and accelerating healing. The General has internal injuries that need to be patched before we dunk him in bacta.”

Dunk him in bacta? Cody had never heard of such a thing. Bacta came on swabs and patches and ointment jars, not tubs to throw a whole person in.

He pinned the Jedi’s shoulders more firmly in an effort to keep him — both of them — as calm and still as possible.

Leading his men up the gorge, with its dry soil and faded patches of grass, hoping to make it over the crest and down into the ravine before dawn.

Cody walked a little ahead of the others, taking point.

He heard the clankers first.

The Commander gestured back to his men, silently ordering them to take whatever cover they could while he crept onwards, keeping low. The enemy sounded few in number, maybe twenty, outnumbering them by only 2 to 1. That was easy. His men could take two droids each without breaking a sweat. The real issue would be keeping the fight as quiet as possible. Their approach still needed to go unnoticed.

Cody hesitated a moment, then shot forwards and flung himself behind an enormous old tree with withered leaves, pressing himself against the trunk.

Nobody had seen him.

Taking a deep breath, he peered around the edge and took in the oncoming droids. He had been right. There were only fifteen, in reality, even better than he had hoped.

Their behavior was odd, though.

They all walked close together, not in their typical line formation, but centered around one droid in the middle of the pack that he couldn’t make out clearly. It was a different model from the others, but not one he was familiar with.

Cody zeroed in on it. Whatever this was, that droid needed to be dealt with.

He retreated back to the other vode, who were awaiting his word. “Fifteen clankers,” he hissed. “One of them is different from the others. Leave that one to me.”

They all murmured assent, a few of them tossing a salute in his direction, and at his signals began placing themselves strategically along the path, concealed behind bushes and stones.

All fell silent except for the sound of the oncoming droids.

A dry breeze rattled in the sun-dried branches like a tired sigh.

“Cody! No!” the sudden shout shattered the silence, shattered the oncoming ambush, ruined Cody’s plans — but he looked around sharply, searching for the owner of that familiar voice.

“General?”

“Pull the men back!” Kenobi roared out over the comm line, and still he was nowhere to be seen. “It’s a trap!”

“Where the fuck is that evac?” the medic muttered. Then he turned his head and screamed, “Where the fuck is that evac?!”

“Five minutes out!” a brother replied.

Cody looked to his medic companion for a reaction, waiting to see. Was five minutes good? Bad? Salvation? ...A death sentence?

The medic closed his eyes briefly.

“Keep him steady,” he said, “and either give him something to bite on or gag him. I need to remove some of this shrapnel before it penetrates too deeply.” He reached behind him for his bag. “And I may need to cauterize the wound to his thigh.”

Cody looked down at his Jedi, watching the blue eyes flutter open and closed, shockingly bright in the midst of all the red. Blood, and dirt, and burns.

Obi-Wan didn’t seem to be coherent enough to understand what was being said, but he was trying to speak, still writhing on the ground as much as his Commander tried to hold him still.

“It’s okay, sir, we’ve got you,” Cody said. He bent down lower to bring himself closer to the General, hoping to make himself understood. “We’ve got you, General, it’s going to be okay.”

“No,” Kenobi protested weakly, the words coming up with a cough and a hoarse sob. “No — it’s — have you — what —”

He dissolved into a fit of coughing. Tears sprang up in those blue eyes that had only ever smiled for them, and leaked down over the grime on his face, glistening in the blood, clinging to his eyelashes.

“Shhhh,” Cody hissed out in desperation. He didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

General Kenobi was a magnet for trouble, but he always survived, always managed to keep a level head, to smile for his men. And they, in turn, protected him as best they could so that he could do all those things.

He was untouchable because he was a Jedi.

He was untouchable because he was their Jedi.

...He was bleeding out in their arms.

“Cody,” his General choked out, eyes fixing on his face, a look of relief dawning in them that Cody didn’t understand. “Cody?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” his Commander said earnestly. “I’m here. We’ve got you.”

“But — I...” the General’s face pinched with pain, but his eyes remained wide and desperate and so, so blue as he stared up at Cody, fighting to speak. “The others? I... trap...my men?”

“They’re all right, you — you saved them,” Cody told him, his voice breaking.

His General’s face looked confused, uncertain. Uncomprehending. “...I... where... the plan. The men. The... we...” More blood seeped between his teeth, and Cody wondered slightly hysterically if his reassuring smile would ever be the same after this. “My men,” whispered the General. “The plan. I have to, I have to—!”

“No!” Cody cried, and he saw his Jedi flinch. “No,” he repeated, a little softer, leaning forward to make sure those blue eyes were looking into his own. “Don’t worry about that right now, just hold on. Hold on.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak again, and then the coherency in his eyes was ripped away at the same time as his back arched off the ground; his shoulders strained against Cody’s restraining hands.

“Hold him!” the medic barked.

Cody tried desperately to comply, but the General was shaking so hard it felt as if he were about break.

And then Obi-Wan screamed — a ragged, uncontrolled wail of agony.

The Commander searched the area for his General, but there was no sign of him except the voice yelling in his ears.

“Stay back, Cody! They have a new weapon!”

“What?” Cody asked.

Obi-Wan’s voice was strained. “There! It’s— go! Get back, all of you, get back!”

Cody scanned the droids through the trees but saw nothing. His General wasn’t making much sense.

But Cody was trained to obey his Jedi, and more than that, much more, he knew he wanted to. He trusted Kenobi, more than almost anyone.

Or maybe it was just that he trusted his General more than anyone else, full stop, because he didn’t protest when the Jedi came hurtling out of nowhere, dropping from a nearby ridge, and put himself directly between his men and the droids.

And he didn’t protest as he kept shepherding his men back down the way, while Obi-Wan ignited his saber just as the droids created the slope.

And he didn’t protest as Kenobi let go of his lightsaber, his weapon, and used the Force to guide it through the air, cutting down fourteen droids in a matter of seconds.

Cody trusted his General implicitly right up until the point where he flung out his arms, standing still, like a human shield between himself and his troops, as the last droid, the strange droid with the odd markings, erupted in a surge of flame that swallowed the world.

Even as Cody was thrown backwards, he saw, as if burned into his vision, a glimpse of Obi-Wan standing with his arms outstretched like a sacrifice, holding the hellfire at bay as if by some unseen wall, his expression serene.

And then, as Cody hit the ground and struggled to regain his feet, that invisible wall broke, and Obi-Wan took the impact of the bomb.

His General’s scream went on and on for what felt like an eternity but which could only have been seconds, and there was blood on his lips and his side was torn open and there was shrapnel everywhere, and—

More hands joined Cody’s, gently but firmly taking hold of the General’s wrists and elbows, clutching his ankles, cradling his head and keeping it still.

Cody looked up.

There was Waxer, and Boil, Barlex, and Longshot.

He could see others framed in the background, shielding the General from view and from the dust and debris stirred up by the relief team. Wooley had crouched next to the medic and was handing him items from his bag as soon as they were requested.

Waxer had tossed his bucket aside and was looking Cody dead in the eyes.

“We’ve got him,” he said reassuringly. “We’ve got him.”

Cody chose to believe him.

To trust his brothers and his Jedi.

Obi-Wan’s gaze was unfocused, but he looked at each of his men in turn, studying their faces, searching for something. Bloodied lips formed their names, faint beneath his unsteady breathing and periodic coughs, the moans of pain triggered by the medic’s steady hands.

Each trooper murmured a response, something soothing, something far, far calmer than the worry in their eyes allowed for.

Lastly, General Kenobi looked at Cody.

“Evac is here!” a trooper nearby shouted. “Sticker, prepare him for a lift! Med team is prepped for emergency surgery during the flight!”

The medic — Sticker, Cody registered, relieved that his panicked unrecognition earlier was gone — breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing his eye. With his wrist, because the fingers were stained deep red.

“You’ll be all right now, sir,” said Longshot.

“Oh, I know,” the General breathed, a smile peeking through the blood. “I have all of you, don’t I?”

#oh my god #I nearly killed him this time #my poor boy #the clones love their Jedi #obi wan kenobi #212th attack battalion #commander cody #longshot #waxer and boil #star wars #my writing #star wars fic #tw blood #tw medical #tw bomb #tw injury

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harrylilies · 3 years

Text

The Royal Series | Pt. II

The Royal Series Masterlist

a/n: Damn okay rewriting this made me question how you all liked this before at all because that was cringey as fuck.

---

If anyone had told you or Harry that you would be texting each other from your private numbers only a week before you met, the both of you would have laughed straight to their face.

You remember how before you both parted ways that night at the bar, you stood in front of each other by your car, Farrah having been already in the car and Harry’s band having had bid their goodbyes and “we wish to see you again’s”, but Harry lingered by you.

“Thank you for coming to the show and spending time with my lame friends and I.” Harry had said with his hands clasped behind his back and a small smirk on his face as he tipped his head at you.

“Thank you for helping Farrah and I get seats so soon, and for a wonderful show, and amazing fries and conversation.” You had replied with a smirk that mirrored his.

“Will you be attending any more shows of mine?” Almost timidly, Harry had asked.

“Depends, are you going to invite me?”

His smile had widened, eyes seeming to sparkle at the initiated playful banter you replied with, “Would you accept the invitation?”

“As I said, depends if I even receive one.” You had shrugged.

He had known that this was him shooting his shot – a shot at the Princess of the United Kingdom to be more specific and it sounded absolutely mental. “Well, how do I reach you if I ever want to send an invitation?”

You had given him a smile, eyes staring into his, “You can text me, but how do I trust that you don’t leak my number?” You had teased him.

“How do I know that you won’t leak mine?” Harry had joked, tipping his head to the side as he looked at you.

You had given him a shrug with a smile he could only think of adorable and all its synonyms, “You don’t.”

Having had 5 days before his next show and deciding to go back to London, you had planned to meet for coffee at a place you knew that rarely had anyone visiting but coffee turned to staying for lunch, to trying dessert together, and before either of you had known it, you had spent the entire day together.

The following day, you had FaceTimed as you watched a movie together, Harry slipping halfway through it by saying what you had secretly hoped for and had you giggling and smiling like a young teenager;

“I never thought our second date would be over FaceTime.”

For Harry, it was embarrassing, but you had seen it as hitting a bird with two stones; 1: he considered the day before a date, and 2: he considered that one, too, a date.

But you had assured him when you replied;

“Maybe we can meet tomorrow? So that the third one isn’t virtual?”

And for the third one, you had made dinner together at his house and cried watching The Notebook.

Taking your seat at the table, beside your brother, Har, your grandmother had the family over for breakfast and was later hosting a formal dinner on the same day - two occasions you had to attend but you had informed them that you weren’t going to be able to attend dinner.

"Tiny, is it true you’re not attending dinner?" Your brother, William, asked with the nickname he and Har had created for you ever since you were an infant, as you placed toast on your plate before reaching for jam, Har helping you by giving it to you.

You hummed in confirmation, "I have plans that I can't cancel."

Sighing, William put his fork down and looked at you, "What sort of plans?"

Letting your fork down and intertwining your fingers together, you looked back at him with a raised eyebrow, "Personal ones.”

"Personal pla-"

"Oh, just let her go, will you?" Har chuckled, "It's not going to be the end of the world."

"Don't encourage her, Harry." Your grandmother replied.

"I don't need any encouragement, Granny. I have been attending dinners and formal meetings all my life. I think I deserve to look after myself for a bit, don't you think?"

The table was quiet for a few seconds before Har coughed and shrugged, "I think you're right."

You gave him a thankful smile, watching as he winked at you discreetly.

"I think Y/N knows what she's doing, Will." Kate said softly, glancing at you before looking at your brother who instantly loosened.

"Is he British?" You grandmother asked, making the air hitch in your throat before you eyed Har, who stifled his scoff, knowing that she was indirectly referring to the woman he was with; Meghan.

You only looked at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly opened.

"Well?"

"Is-Is who British?" You cleared your throat.

"The personal reason why you're not attending dinner." She gave you a smile, letting you know that she was keeping up.

"Granny!" You groaned, looking down at your plate, ignoring everyone who sat on the table as they seemed to stifle their laughter at the situation.

"Just remember," Your grandmother began, making you look at her, "You are Y/N, Princess of the United Kingdom, not someone normal. Leave the normal to the normal. If you're seeing Fred, I'll give you my blessing. If not..." She paused before continuing to eat.

Your eyes met Kate’s sympathetic ones before you looked down at your plate, "Of course." You whispered.

You were in a hurry to get breakfast done with so you could go on with your own day.

After a formal visit to a hospital, you were glad to go back to your flat at Kensington, finally feeling your muscles relax as you began to get ready to see Harry.

Although you could have your driver drive you to where Harry was, he was persistent to meet you so you could go to wherever he wanted you to go to, together.

Your driver had driven you the short distance from the palace to where Harry was waiting for you, looking around for you to make sure no one but the 3 of you was around.

“All clear.” He smiled as he turned back to look at you.

“Thank you so much,” you smiled back, “Sorry for the hassle.”

“None of that, YN.” The old man waved you off, causing you to grin before getting out of the car and walking towards Harry’s black Range Rover.

His head turned to look at you, a smile instantly making its way to his face as he got out to greet you, wrapping his arms around you in a quick hug before pecking your cheek.

"Sorry I'm late." You said, catching your breath as you looked at him.

"It's okay. Is everything alright?" He asked, his eyes on you as he took you in.

You nodded, smiling slightly. "It is now.”

Getting in the car and buckling up, Harry drove off after waving at your driver.

He glanced at you before looking back at the road, a dumbfounded smile on his face, “You look beautiful.”

You tried to stifle the wide grin, looking at the window beside you, “Thank you. You look lovely, too.”

“Did I just make her Royal Highness blush?” Harry gasped dramatically.

“Shut it, Styles!” You laughed, feeling all the stress and worry that you had carried with you throughout the day fade, “Also, I’m on AUX duty.”

Arriving at the place where Harry promised to be peaceful, you were helped out of the car by him. Gently holding each other's hands, both aware of the zoo in your stomachs, you walked inside the small restaurant.

"Oh, Harry, you're here!" An old lady exclaimed with an excited grin before her eyes moved to you, her grey eyes going wide. "Is this- Oh my, are you Princess Y/N?"

Biting your lip and afraid she'd give you any special treatment, you reluctantly nodded.

"Your Highness," She gave you a curtesy. "The place is a bit messy. It's not always like tha-"

"No, no!" You quickly interrupted her, "I love it. And please call me Y/N."

"Are you sure? I mean you're..." She trailed off, glancing at Harry who gave her a reassuring nod.

"I am." You smiled softly at her.

“Oh, dear,” she brought a hand to her heart as her face softened, “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Y/N.”

“All mine,...”

“Trisha.”

You smiled, “Pleasure is all mine, Trisha.”

Smiling at the encounter, Harry’s hand was then on your back as he looked at Trisha, "The regular booth." He informed her, beginning to walk towards the end of the restaurant with you.

You sat down, watching as he sat in front of you. "Do you come here often?"

He nodded, "Trisha here," He pointed back with his thumb, "Has seen me at possibly every state. I got lost once and I came here to use their phone and I've been coming here ever since, that was maybe 3 years ago."

"She seems lovely." You smiled.

"She is." Harry agreed before looking at Trisha who came to your table and put two menus in front of you and him.

"I'll be back in a few minutes to take your order."

You smiled at her before opening the menu and skimming through it, “What do you usually get?”

“The s-”

The sound of the door bells chiming grabbed both of your attention, the both of you looking towards it. In came a group of maybe 7 young adults, all laughing and filling the once quiet place.

You noticed it; one guy elbowing his friend and pointing at you with wide eyes and before you knew it, the group of friends were looking at you and Harry with not so discreet whispers.

"Hey," Your head snapped to Harry once you heard him. He leaned forward to talk quietly, eyes showing care, "We can leave if you want."

You slightly smiled and shook your head, "I still want to know your usual plate."

Reaching underneath the table, Harry held his palm open towards you. You glanced from his hand to his face, smiling as you placed your hand in his, feeling Harry give it a squeeze.

The truth was, Harry knew the risk he was taking. He knew that you were way out of his league; hell, if someone told him years ago that he would be on a date with someone from the Royal family, he would've laughed in their face.

Yet, something about you was so soothing. It was almost as if you had a part that needed to explored, a part that you kept to yourself – a part that was just like anyone else; normal. He didn't know what it felt like to be a part of a royal family or even know much about the formal, royal protocol but one thing he knew for sure was that he never felt this way about someone before.

He had never experienced the normalcy of how it felt with you with anyone else.

Eating Harry's usual meal, salmon pasta, you both were sharing stories that had you giggling and all smiles as if you were the only people in the place.

"And before I know it, I'm dragged in the water."

You laughed, "I can't believe you thought your friend was a shark."

"It's not all the time that people drag you into the water!" Harry said defensively but with a chuckle at the end, watching you as you laughed.

"Sure, because sharks have fingers." You sarcastically nodded.

"That-" Harry pointed at you before slumping in his seat, "That's a good point."

With his hands under his chin, Harry watched you talk about that one time you and your best friends, Emma, Farrah and Nia, decided to up and leave England for two days without giving anyone heads up.

"We went to Italy." You finished, smiling down at your finished plate at the memory before looking at Harry, leaning back in your chair.

"Got an earful when you went back home?"

You chuckled, shrugging, "Nothing I'm not used to."

"So the tabloids are true? You like breaking rules?" Harry smirked, tilting his head slightly.

With butterflies in your stomach and a grin on your face, you replied.

"Only when it's worth it."

After sharing dessert, Harry asked for the check.

Holding the paper, Harry took out his wallet as you were taking out yours, “How much is it?” You asked.

He gave you a funny look, “You think I’m letting you pay?”

“Come on, we can’t go through this every time.” You chuckled, trying to snatch the paper from him only to have him pull away.

“Not to sound too proud but you know I’m capable of paying for the both of us for whatever, right?”

“I also know that you don’t have to.” You added.

“But do you know that I want to?” He asked, taking money out discreetly.

You rolled your eyes jokingly at him, “Of course you’d use that line,” you chuckled as he shrugged at you with a cheeky smile, “Fine, I’m leaving the tips though.”

He knew that it was a dead-end so he nodded.

You gave him the money so he could add it with his, “How about we do that from now on? Switch paying and tips with each other,” you suggested, “Next time, I’ll pay and you handle the tips.”

Harry held his hand out, grinning when you shook it, “Deal.”

It felt like the night was getting younger by the second from how neither of you wanted to leave the other and it was why you decided to take a short walk together around the place since it didn’t have any people around it.

It seemed like a rom-com; you walked alongside each other, pinkies softly intertwined as you chattered.

“Uni was probably the nicest period in my life,” you told him, “Nobody seemed to give a shit who I was except for the first week or two but that was just it. We were just a bunch of kids trying to graduate.”

“What did you study?” Harry asked with a smile as the both of you walked slowly.

“Psychology and management.”

“Doubled?”

You hummed, “Was really interesting studying them, but then you have people with you who just get too into it, especially psychology, and,” you laughed, “We would go out of an intense lecture and someone would come up to you and just,” you stopped as you shook with laughed as you stepped in front of Harry, putting your hands on his arms, Harry grinning in amusement, “Harry, the reason why you don’t like ketchup on your salad is because you weren’t hugged enough as a child.”

He burst out laughing, throwing his head back. You laughed along, eyes twinkling at the sight of the man in front of you.

Breathing out with a hand to his heart, Harry looked down at you as the both of you continued to chuckle.

Maybe it was the setting of it all; a normal date with a conversation that flowed as gracefully as a river, the weather being almost perfect, you and Harry grew quiet as you stared at one another, oblivious to the rapidly thumping hearts hidden in your chests.

Gently and ever-so-softly, Harry leaned closer first, moving one soft hand to your right cheek. The coldness of his rings and the air wasn’t what caused you to take a breath in, it was the intense yet soft look he was giving you before the both of you closed your eyes, lips finally pressing against each other in a gentle kiss.

Quietly and gently, you both pulled away, still maintaining the close proximity. Harry was first to open his eyes, a smile drawn to his face as he watched you open yours.

“Only took us four dates to kiss.” You said quietly with a smile.

“Sorry.” In his deep voice, Harry replied as he still cupped your cheek.

“It’s alright,” you reached to place your hand on top of his on your cheek, “You can make up for it.”

And so, you were both beaming as you jogged to Harry’s car, Harry’s lips getting placed on your own as soon as you were hidden in the car.

It was a hot mess with how much you were both laughing, though not knowing why but judging from the way the night went – it was just happiness and excitement, two nouns you had missed using.

Driving you back was fun though it was bittersweet; the both of you sang along to the music you played, Harry feeling comfortable enough to hold your hand as he drove.

“Will you call me?” You asked quietly and bashfully, unbuckling your seatbelt and looking at him.

Harry’s heart fluttered, leaning closer to kiss your lips. “Only if you’ll answer.”

“I’ll consider it.” You teased, pulling him in for another kiss before getting out of the car.

What you hadn’t expected to find was your personal assistant and friend, Emilie, standing outside your flat door the moment it came into sight.

“The Queen wants to see you right now.”

Your smile fell as you looked at the sympathetic look she was giving you.

The 10-minute drive to Buckingham was quiet, thoughts racing through your head like colliding trains.

The walk inside and to where your grandmother was waiting for you was stressful, but you reached her.

Sitting on a chair, your short grandmother had an iPad on her lap, zooming in and out on it.

“You wanted to see me, Granny?”

She looked up, “Ah! Yes,” she nodded before handing you the iPad, “What is this?”

Taking the iPad, your eyes moved from her figure to the screen, your breath hitching in your throat at the picture of you and Harry smiling at each other stared back at you. From the little preview of photos at the bottom, you swiped to see the other familiar pictures.

A picture of you laughing and Harry talking with a smile on his face, a picture of your hand on top of his as you talked, a picture of the both of you leaving with Harry’s hand on your back.

You stayed quiet for a moment before letting a sigh, your shoulders slumping down, “This is why I’m here?”

“Are you shocked?”

“Kind of surprised, yes,” you nodded, “How is me going out with someone bad enough for you to request to see me now?”

“That someone happens to be a singer,” she frowned, feeling as if spitting out his profession, “A singer who comes from a boyband, dresses in a way that no man should, and might I add, sings for a living.”

Your eyes widened, “No man should? Why? How should a man dress, Granny? Suits for jammies and morning coats for a stroll?”

“He’s a singer, Y/N. You’re a Princess!”

“And a human, too, just like him and just like you,” you chuckled in disbelief, “And he’s bloody talented at what he does and it’s impacting so many people all around the world.”

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“Long enough to actually like him.” You replied instantly.

The Queen closed her eyes momentarily before standing up, “Are you aware of how you were born to marry a royal?”

You shook your head, feeling your eyes grow tearful, “Are you aware of how much I miss running to you when I fall down or feel sad like I used to as a child?”

“You know whose fault that is, young lady? Yours,” she pointed, “The moment you decided that you were unsatisfied with your duty as a Royal Princess.”

“No,” you shook your head with a slight dry laugh, “It was when you decided that me having an opinion was too much of a privilege, Granny, especially when it comes to who I see.”

“You’re doing all this for what? For who? Him?”

“You don’t get it,” a tear fell, “It was never for anyone but myself.”

“I care about you, too, and you know that. It’s why it’s best for you to marry Fred, someone who comes from a royal line, not a commoner!”

“A commoner?” You laughed, “What year is this?”

“Don’t speak to me in that tone, Y/N. Especially when the public caught you in the wrong with the Styles boy.”

“Caught me in the wr-What?” with a chuckle, you added, “Because me meeting up and knowing people who don’t walk around with their fancy attires and royal calendar is wrong, right. Where are you going with this, Granny?”

“You shouldn’t be tarnishing the family like that, I will not allow it, Y/N!”

“Then I don’t want anything to do with it!”

And with that, you turned around, hurrying out of the room as you harshly wiped your cheeks, furiously taking out your phone and dialling the one person you wanted to see.

“Hey, love. Didn’t know you were that eager to hear my voice.”

It was your sniffle that had alerted Harry, sitting straighter as he pressed the phone against his ear, his smile and joking demeanour dropping, “Y/N? Love? Are you okay? What is it?”

“Harry, are you at your house?”

“Yeah, love, I am. You want me to come and get you?” He asked urgently.

“No,” you sniffled, “I’ll be there.”

Getting the car, you wiped your cheek again as you looked at your driver who frowned at you crying, “Can you please take me to Harry’s, Barney?”

“Anywhere you want, Y/n.”

---

You rang the doorbell, waiting impatiently on the doorstep before you fidgeted with your hands as you waited.

Only a few seconds later did you snap your head up as the door was – aggressively – opened, viewing Harry who looked like he was waiting for the delivery of his child. He instantly pulled you to his chest, resting his chin on your head. "I was worried sick."

"You told me you're not scared." You whispered after a few seconds of silence in each other's embrace.

Harry pulled back a little, looking down at you, his eyes skimming over every part of your face.

A smile made its way on his face as he leaned in, his lips grazing yours ever so softly. "I'm not scared. Are you?”

Closing your eyes, your hands found their way to the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm not scared."

Harry closed the space between you, pressing his lips to yours in an assuring kiss. Almost as if it was a seal to a deal.

#harrylillies #the royal series #the royal series masterlist #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff series #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles x princess reader

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infernal-fire · 3 years

Text

Long Forgotten

I am choosing to not use warnings. Do not read if you are uncomfortable with themes of infidelity, angst, swearing and sexual innuendos.

Summary: Your Steve isn’t yours anymore and you’re beginning to understand why.

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairings: Steve x reader and a surprise appearance ;)

Disclaimer: this is set right after Endgame

A/N: this story was inspired by @nsfwsebbie’s fic please don’t take him (even though you can). it was so damn amazing. i thought of how the situation would go under different circumstances, and added a more strong willed reader into the mix :)

i tried to proofread but im sort of posting in a rush so all mistakes are my own!

(This GIF does not belong to me)

Your head was nestled in the crook of Steve’s neck and his arms were cradling your tired form. Dried tears left your face feeling dry and your up do from the funeral was now tousled. Steve let out a heavy sigh and held you a little tighter.

You could fall asleep if it weren’t for the looming stress of returning the stones so you decided to bide your time by focusing on the super soldier’s unnaturally slow heartbeat.

“We should go, sweetheart. They’re waiting for me.” his voice broke the placid silence that had enveloped the room.

You silently got off the bed and Steve’s hand nudged yours, stopping you from reaching the door.

He slowly pulled you towards him and you met him halfway, face-to-face.

“I know things aren’t great right now. But we’ll get through this,” he spoke lowly as his large hands cupped your face. They felt rough against your supple skin, but his touch was as tender as ever.

You stared into his eyes for a moment before speaking. "I’ll come with you,” you offered.

“No,” he affirmed. His tone was firm yet a touch of softness was reserved in there somewhere, just for you.

“I love you Y/N. I’ll love you no matter what,” he said as he pulled your head into his chest and engulfed your body into his.

You reached the new, mini version of the previously destroyed time travel contraption Tony made. Sam, Bucky and Professor Hulk were engaging in light conversation that clearly, none of them were interested in. You look up at Steve, who was as tense as ever, clutching your hand like a vice. He let go and glanced back at you before joining Sam.

You knew deep down that Steve would never be the same anymore. Hell, after the Battle of Wakanda, Steve almost ended the relationship because the Avengers lost.

But the Avengers won this time, and things should feel different. So why did it feel like he was leaving forever?

You recalled the very short conversation you had with him about Tony’s snap.

“I should have snapped,” he sobbed.

“You’ve always been selfless your whole life. This was Tony’s time to be selfless, and you don’t get to take that away from him.” You hugged him and cried with him.

There was nothing else to be said.

How much you wished no one had to die.

He stood on the platform and nodded at Bruce before locking eyes with you.

Apologetic. He looked apologetic.

At the time, you thought he just looked sad. You assumed it was residual sadness from the funeral but looking back, you realized he looked apologetic for what he was about to do.

Rebuilding your relationship wasn’t easy. Tony and Nat’s death and the trauma of the battle were overshadowing both of your feelings. You salvaged what you could and life returned to a “normal” that never existed.

Being an Avenger means your living costs are covered by Tony, basically compensating for the missions. Only there weren’t any missions anymore. You were grateful but it meant that you had a lot of time on your hands.

You took up a job as a waitress and Steve continued running sessions at the VA with Sam. It was humbling to be serving people at a diner after fighting alongside some of Earth’s mightiest heroes. But you needed it. And slowly but steadily, happiness crept its way into the tower.

You didn’t see Steve around anymore though. You weren’t sure if you were even together anymore, aside from the forehead kisses and lingering glances.

You and Bucky set the table while you heard Sam and Steve banter over who gets to choose the movie today. Bucky chuckled and called them to eat.

There was relentless teasing, jokes being tossed around and big smiles everywhere.

“The nurse had poked him 2 times at this point and there was no blood coming out of him.” Sam laughed.

“So she asks me if we can do the other arm.” Bucky snorted through breaths of amusement.

“This guy pulls up his sleeve and the girl faints.” Sam howled as everyone doubled over in laughter.

You wiped a tear from your eye and you look over at Steve who was laughing as well. It had been a long time since you’ve seen him so happy.

Sure, he’d been distant. He hadn’t touched you since he came back. It had been 2 months though, and you wondered if you should try again tonight. You put a hand over Steve’s and he snapped his head to you. He gave you a small smile before slipping his hand out from under yours and picking up a napkin.

He needed the napkin, you told yourself.

You went up to change into something that he might find more appealing. You were torn between the red lace set or the black corset. You settled for the classic red lace and tied on a robe before heading downstairs to tease him a little.

“You’re going to tell her before you go right?” You heard Sam’s voice and broke your stride to the kitchen.

“She won’t be happy.” You swore it was Steve’s voice but it was a little too quiet to be sure. You silently padded toward the kitchen, standing right outside the entrance to hear better.

“Of course she won’t be happy. You went back to be with a girl from 70 years ago and spent 4 months with her. You sort of cheated on her Steve.” Bucky’s voice quipped at Steve.

You couldn’t be hearing right. Steve went back and got together with Peggy?

“It’s not sort of cheating, he almost got married to her,” Sam remarked in rebuttal.

He almost got married to her.

There was so much information to process. Your shoulder sagged with the weight of the news and you cupped your mouth before anyone could hear your sob.

“But I came back.” Steve countered.

“Do you love her?” Bucky lowered his voice and inquired.

“I don’t know anymore.”

Your chest heaved and eyes burned. You wanted to gasp for air but you knew if you breathed, you would let out the anguish building in your stomach.

Your back hit the wall and you slid down, not caring if he hears anymore.

In moments, Steve, Bucky and Sam appear beside you with startled faces.

You didn’t look at them as you got up and paced to your room. You thought you heard Steve’s voice calling after you but your thoughts pounded and clawed at the insides of your head. You couldn’t be sure and you weren’t going to turn back now.

He didn’t run after you. You had predicted that he didn’t want to deal with your hysterical crying which surely could be heard past your room walls. When you considered it, this new Steve was actually quite predictable; you knew he wouldn’t bother bringing it up to you until you brought it up yourself. Because he was a coward like that, you decided. All of his actions spoke for themself and the one true motive behind his cheating is cowardice. You don’t know if you would have been okay with him going back to Peggy, but if he talked about it, things not have ended the way they did.

After 2 days of not leaving your room, you knew that there was a better way to handle this. It wasn’t you who should be embarrassed; instead of sulking, you marched to his room with newfound determination.

You threw open his door that he didn’t even bother locking. Steve was mid-speech with someone on the phone, seemingly a conversation that wasn’t going his way. He seemed tense, his muscles protruding from the tight white t-shirt pulled over him.

Your jaw ticked as you shifted your weight onto one foot and rested on the doorframe, waiting for him to end the call.

“I’m sorry to cut this short. We have a lot to talk about but it’ll have to happen in-person.” he concluded the phone call and sat on the bed with his head in his arms.

“Seems like you planned it all.” you commented, trying to sound like you didn’t care. In reality, the wound was still very fresh. Even though a part of you had known that the relationship was over for some time now, you were only coming to terms with it now.

“I wanted to tell you before I left, but you were just so upset and I couldn’t …” he trailed off.

“All of a sudden you care about me? And now this is somehow my fault that you were too chicken to tell me,” you retorted, unimpressed with his answer.

“I have always cared about you and always will.” He got up and walked towards you. He cupped your face but you pushed his hand off, glaring up at him.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I admit I could’ve handled everything lot better but Y/N. When you told me Tony’s snap was his moment of selflessness, I realized that all I’ve ever done is be selfless. And I don’t regret any of it. But it was time I chose to do something for myself. Then I remembered Peggy and the life I left behind and I just knew this world would be okay without me so I chose to be selfish. I chose to be selfish, Y/n, and I don’t regret that either.”

You were crying now, and Steve reached to wipe it off, but you smacked his hand.

“You used to choose me. You woke up everyday and chose us. The day you decided you didn’t want this anymore, you decided you would just go ‘fuck all’ and cheat on me? You couldn’t have ended it like a normal person?” you questioned through your tears. Your vision was foggy but you kept wiping your eyes, trying not let him see your tears.

He sighed and let a few moments stretch on before he answered.

“We both know that this relationship was over a long time ago Y/N.”

You noted his use of your name and not the usual pet name ‘sweetheart’ or ‘love’. It saddened you even more to think that he doesn’t associate those words with you anymore.

“You’re a fucking bastard Rogers. You are the biggest coward I have ever met in my life. You may be the Captain America, but you are the biggest wimp in real life.” You could tell he was fuming because of your comment but you continued your spiel.

“I tried everything to make this work. The moment that the thought of cheating crossed your mind, you should have broken my heart. Because all you did now was rip it out and stomp on it before spitting on the what’s left-”

“I can’t believe you’re standing here accusing me of not trying to make this work. You know what Y/N? I fucking left Peggy because I thought about you and thought I could make this work. And then I came back and remembered all the reasons why this wouldn’t work and now I regret it. I wish I could go back to Peggy.”

“Go fuck yourself Rogers,” you muttered and turned to leave. “Actually, go fuck Peggy’s skeleton Steve. I curse you with every cell in my body. I hope you never get to see her again. I know you’re trying to go back,” you added before wiping you final tear, once and for all. There was no way you were going to shed another tear on this asshole.

Except, it wasn’t that simple. You did cry over it more, but if there’s anything you did right, it was making sure he never saw your tears.

You also found that post-break up glow up’s were a real thing. The lack of missions means you didn’t need to see Steve unless you chose to be in the same space as him. So you chose to make new friends and bring new light into your life. There was no dread clouding your judgment because for once, there was no impending threat on the future of Earth.

You cut your hair, you changed up your wardrobe and got as fit as you’ve ever been. Your friends made frequent stops at the Tower which eventually turned into dragging you into their bar hopping.

On the other hand, Steve was doing everything he could to go back to Peggy, just like you had predicted. You manifested his downfall. Hank Pym refused to let his work fall into the hands of the Avengers and Steve was having a very hard time convincing him otherwise. The final nail in the coffin was when Hank decided that Pym Particles should not be produced anymore. As long as the world didn’t understand the entirety of the quantum realm, no one should have access to something that could mess with it. No arguments could ensue because there was nothing anyone could say to change Hank’s mind.

As much as Bucky and Sam wanted him to go back, they knew he deserved it for everything you were put through. When Steve found that his friends weren’t on the same page as him, he spiraled deeper into regret and depression. There wasn’t much to be done in terms of world-saving, which is what he was made for. The person he thought was the love of his life is gone now. When the dust settled, he realized that you were the only thing that kept him going for so long. But now he lost you too, and there was nothing he could do get you back.

While you were out living your new life, Steve was trying to find a life for himself. He would see you around the compound and wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of your love. What he would do to feel that again, he couldn’t explain to anyone.

Your escapades were at an all-time high. You knew that single life is the life. Just when you finally concluded that all men were trash, Ransom came crashing into your life. Although he only reinforced this belief, this man wasn’t just any trash. He was your trash.

He was the mutual of your friends and you seemed to never be able to escape him. Moreover, your friends decided that you wouldn’t escape him.

The teasing and playful banter between you two turned into something more serious about a year after your break-up. Ransom was everything Steve wasn’t.

Steve was a gentleman. Chivalrous. Gentle.

Then you reminded yourself that he had proven to you that he wasn’t any of things anymore. Ransom was the exact opposite, but he wore it on his sleeve. After all the lies and cowardice, Ransom’s blunt and bold attitude was exactly what you needed.

There were moments you found yourself comparing the nature of the two relationships. With Steve, a lot of it was gentle and soft with some roughness around the edges. Life alongside Ransom was nothing short of callous, but that’s why soft, vulnerable moments felt even more extraordinary and special.

If you made a judgement based off first impressions, someone like Ransom seems to be more likely to cheat than someone like Steve Rogers. Upon deeper analyzation though, Ransom doesn’t have any skeletons in his closet. He doesn’t claim things easily, but when he does, he would go to any length to make sure what’s his, will stay his. Soon after you realized this, you began abandoning thoughts of comparing the two relationships.

There was a party at the Tower for Sam’s birthday. It was the first time in a long time that you were going to be around Steve for longer than 10 minutes. Doubt began seeping through your determination; how well would you fare under the pressure of pretending to be okay around him?

“Do we have to match, sugar?” Ransom whined from your bathroom.

“Why would you even go to an event as a couple if you aren’t matching?” you hollered back.

You heard Ransom grumble as the bathroom door swung open. The emerald green dress shirt with small gold polka dots complemented his eyes so perfectly. Ransom was about to complain again before seeing the look of awe on your face. He decided right then that he could suck it up for the night.

You were wearing an emerald green cocktail dress with sheer black net covering your shoulders, your sleeves reaching your elbows. The material was different, but the print was the exact same as Ransom’s. He couldn’t help but wonder why you put so much effort into such little things. He made a mental note to do something like this for you another time before wrapping his arms around your frame, burying his face into your face.

“Ran! My hair!” you squealed as you tried to push him off.

“Usually it’s me that takes this long to get ready. You trying to impress the Captain?” Ransom winked and sat on your bed.

“Oh fuck off.” you rolled your eyes and added the big bow to your half up hair-do.

“You look so innocent baby. How angelic would you look with my cum dripping out of your mouth?” he smirked as you dropped your mouth, looking at him through the mirror.

“My god Ran, this is not the time.” You shook your head and pulled him with you, finally making your way to the party downstairs.

You were breaking out into cold sweat for some reason. Part of you really wanted to show Steve how happy you were now, but you felt that it meant you weren’t truly over him. Were you making a mistake?

Right before you opened the door the common room where the party was ongoing, Ransom stopped you and looked right into your eyes.

“You know, as much as I’d like to make your ex jealous, if you don’t want this, I could think of a lot of other ways to spend the night,” he winked and you blushed. This is exactly why you liked him so much. There was no pressure to be anything but yourself around him. Even if you told him you wanted to go back to your room, there would be no judgement on his behalf. He wouldn’t ever bring it up as a joke either, because he just knew what he could and couldn’t joke about.

“Let’s do this, bubbles” you giggled. He groaned at the nickname and pulled you into his side with one arm, opening the door with the other.

One of Ransom’s many talents was making an entrance and this event was no exception. As you walked through the entrance, Ransom kept his head high and pulled you along with him. His confidence began rubbing off you and within a few steps, you stopped slouching. Straightening you back and tossing your hair behind your back, you bathed in the glory of the looks you and Ransom were getting. He took you straight to the bar, smiled at you and ordered drinks.

“You know, your ex was fuming in the corner,” he remarked as he sipped on his drink.

“No!” you laughed incredulously, unable to imagine Steve begin angry over Ransom’s presence.

“It’s true, look for yourself,” he calmly retorted. His eyes flicked to a corner of the room and you followed his gaze there. Steve looked away upon seeing you look at him but it was clear that he was flustered. Bucky stood beside him, entertaining a gaggle of girls, but Steve’s attention was clearly elsewhere.

“He’s actually pretty hot in person, it’s making me jealous” Ransom nonchalantly mentioned.

You threw your head back and laughed. Your doubts of whether this was a good idea were dissipating very quickly.

Ransom chuckled and then looked at you intently. You looked back at him, the high of the laugh wearing off because of his intense stare.

“I think I’m in love with you.” you blurted.

“You know, I’m glad you said it because I did not want to say it first.” he snickered and you playfully punched him.

“Ow! I’m just kidding, don’t go all Avengers-mode on me!” he fussed.

You pulled him into a tight hug. He peeled your head away from his chest to cup your face and give you a light kiss before whispering ‘I love you too.’ You started to tear up, thinking of all the pain you had to go through to get this moment of tranquility with your favourite person in the whole, wide world.

He cooed and kissed your forehead.

“I always got you.” he assured and pulled your head back into his chest. You smiled and broke away from the hug, sitting back on the bar stool.

“I think you transferred your lipstick because you have a dark red lip mark on your forehead.”

You groaned and frantically wiped your forehead.

“Hey,” he caught your wrist. “Why don’t we go back up and fix that?” His eyes glinted in the dim lights and you giggled like a schoolgirl as he pushed through the crowd.

In that moment, and every moment after it, Steve was long forgotten.

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yeenybeanies · 3 years

Text

Giant Cowboy Murder Mystery

forgive me it’s been almost two weeks since i posted the preview sdfjdfj but the full version Was released to the public on my patreon on time so you can’t be Too mad at me patreon will receive new chapters first!

3,790 words

mild mentions of nudity and injury

thanks for reading!

patreon | ko-fi

Cool, crisp air rustled the leaves of the tall conifer trees, and crickets sang their choruses, filling the calm evening with a natural symphony. A crackling campfire lent its rhythm, rounding out the song. It sounded peaceful. Serene.

It smelled a lot different. A putrid stench permeated the air, filling the forest.

A young woman ran. Ignoring her bare skin, her shrieking muscles, her burning lungs, she ran. She ducked and weaved her way through the trees, following the only thing she could really discern in the darkness: that campfire light. Its orange glow was a beacon of hope, of safety. Jaw clenched, the woman pushed her battered body further. She paid no mind to the branches and thorns that scraped her as she passed, to the stones that stabbed her feet. Her body was numb, filled with adrenaline and the need to escape.

As it came more into view, the woman realized with rising concern that the campfire was much bigger than she’d initially assumed. With some distance still to go, it looked more like a bonfire than a campfire, or maybe a forest fire. Her pace slowed some.

No, it was too stationary, too contained to be a forest fire. Reassured, she continued her sprint.

As she approached the treeline, the girl called breathlessly for help. She held her arms in front of her face and crashed through the underbrush, into the clearing. Her whole body shook. She doubled over, hands to her knees for support, and tried to speak, but she could only manage shaky sobs between her gasps for air.

Instead of voices rising to meet her, the woman only heard wind and crickets and crackling.

No, that wasn’t true. She heard another noise, like crunching and tearing. She looked towards the source of the noise, and toppled over from fright. Several yards to her right stood a massive, four-legged beast resembling a horse or a mule. It had to have been at least forty, fifty feet tall! Its head hung low at the end of a long neck, mouth to the ground to graze at the grasses. Each chomp it took left a bare patch of dirt big enough for her to curl up in. The beast paid her no mind, save for one long ear pointed in her direction, but she felt like she could no longer breathe.

She didn’t know for how long she stared at the giant horse-thing. It felt like hours. Her lungs protested the lack of air, but she couldn’t bring herself to breathe, to move––not until something else grabbed her attention. A heavy, rhythmic thudding, something she felt more than she heard, yanked the woman’s gaze away from the beast. Eyes wide as saucers stared into the darkness between the trees across the fire. The sound grew louder, shaking the ground. From the darkness, she could make out a tall figure. It looked almost human in shape, save for the fact that it, much like the horse, was at least forty feet tall, and proportionally filled in. The figure pushed past the trees and stepped into the clearing, taking on orange tones from the fire’s light. It––he––was a man. A giant man.

A giant man and his giant horse.

It was too much. Like a switch had been flipped, the woman found her breath and her voice. She screamed. The shrill noise startled both the horse and the man, the former joining in with an alarmed grunt of its own. The man looked down sharply, his eyes landing on her. The lower half of his face was covered with a scarf, and he wore what looked like an appropriately-sized cowboy hat. As a matter of fact, his whole outfit gave her the impression that he was some sort of giant rancher or cowpoke, from his hat to his spurr-toting boots.

For a long moment, the two stared at each other, neither moving nor making any noise over the night symphony. The woman felt herself start to shake, though not from the cold. The fire provided ample warmth to keep the chill away, even in her naked state. No, she was shaking, quaking, out of pure terror. With him staring her down, she felt even smaller, even more exposed.

Wordlessly, the giant man took a step forward. His boot hit the ground with a heavy thud, sending a jolt through the woman’s body. Flight mode activated, she scrambled to her feet and rushed back into the forest, back the way she came.

The giant hesitated when the human bolted. Of all the things he expected to see tonight, a naked human woman was not one of them. His mind swirled with questions: what was she doing here? How did she get here? Why was she naked? What had caused all of those cuts and bruises on her?

Whatever the answers, clearly she was distressed and in need of help.

He breathed a sigh and continued forward, keeping his pace slow and eyes sharp. She’d probably never seen a giant before, or so he assumed, hence her reaction towards him. He pondered over the idea of calling out to her, but he decided that his voice might scare her more.

Humans: anxious little creatures.

Carefully, he followed after her, making sure to mind where he stepped.

The woman ran as fast as her exhausted legs would carry her. Everything hurt, but she couldn’t stop––not with that giant on her tail. She could hear his footsteps crashing behind her, threatening to stomp on her. Were it not for the tight-knit trees, she was sure he would have caught up to her already.

Which way was she going? She didn’t know. It was too dark to see much beyond the ground and the trees right in front of her. All she needed was to get away, maybe find somewhere to hide and wait for the giant to pass her.

Then what?

Would she have to spend the night in these woods? Alone? Naked? There was a giant man and a giant horse-mule thing; were there other giant animals? Where the hell was she?

Her racing thoughts came to an abrupt halt when her foot caught on a root. The woman cried out in pain and fell bodily to the forest floor. She bit her lip and brought her knee up to her chest, hands cradling her now injured foot. Already it was starting to warm and swell. She didn’t have time to dwell on it, though; those thundering footsteps still followed behind her, getting closer and closer. The woman clenched her jaw and pushed herself up to her knees. She figured she wasn’t going to be able to run much further, so the next best option was to hide. That was a part of her skeleton of a plan. Getting hurt was just a bumpy start. Forcing herself to stay quiet, despite the throbbing pain in her foot, the woman crawled her way around the large, protruding roots of one of the trees. She found a hollow to sequester herself into and curled herself into a ball, hands over her head.

The giant’s footsteps grew louder until they were practically on top of her. The woman squeezed her eyes shut and sent a silent prayer to anyone that would listen.

Above and oblivious to her, the giant man scanned the dark floor as best he could in the moonlight. He should have brought a lantern with him, but he hadn’t thought to do so in the moment. It was such a bizarre situation.

What was he going to do with her if he found her? Cover her up, surely. That would be step one. But after that . . .? He figured he could take her back to the cabin, but then she’d be surrounded by even more giants. If she reacted so poorly to just one, six more would surely send her into shock, or worse.

The giant sighed heavily and shook his head.

* * *

“Look who it is! Mr. Elijah Love! Where the fuck were you?”

The jovial voice made the giant’s nose crinkle. Slowly, Eli lifted his head, tired eyes meeting the owner of said voice. Though the other giant wore a blue scarf over the lower half of his face, like everyone else on the farm, he knew he was grinning. He could hear it.

“Shit, you look like you were up all night. Did you get more bags under your eyes?”

“Not now, Smart.” He answered with a hint of warning in his tone, a signal that he was not in any mood for his fellow giant’s teasing. Unfortunately, Smart rarely minded any signals or warnings. Eli rolled his eyes and dismounted his horse.

“If not now, then when?” Smart continued. His voice was already grating; the grin did not make it any better.

Eli shook his head and ignored Smart. Reins in hand, he led his horse towards the barn. Once he saw to her needs, he could retire to his quarters. The prospect of much-needed rest sounded great in his mind, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get anything meaningful. The human still raced through his mind. He lamented that he hadn’t been able to find her; she’d clearly been in distress. Over what, he had no idea. What could possibly land a human naked in the middle of a forest? Surely it couldn’t have been good. The poor girl had been hysterical. She’d called for help.

And she hadn’t expected a giant to answer her call.

Eli mulled over last night’s events as he entered the barn. With muscle memory guiding him, he started to remove his horse’s tack.

“Miss Blueberry Pie!” Called another voice. Eli sucked in a surprised breath, mind snapping back into the present. A young giant approached from the other end of the barn. His boots were covered in muck and soiled bedding. His face scarf nearly matched his bright red air in color. He stopped before the horse with treats in one hand. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d––oh! H-hello, Mr. Love.” As if just noticing Eli, the young giant stiffened, cheeks going red.

“Gaffin,” Eli greeted. He took no offense to the oversight; it was well-known on the farm that Gaffin liked the animals more than his fellow giants. He’d probably sleep in the stables with the horses if he was allowed to. “We got in late. Is Pie’s stall still clean?”

“Yes sir! Cleaned it out and gave it fresh bedding this morning. No one’s been in there since.” Once the horse had finished her treats, Gaffin started to rub her ears, much to her delight. She lowered her head and closed her eyes, a low rumble in her chest.

Eli nodded. He hauled the saddle from Pie’s back and carried it over to a rack. “Would you take her from here?”

“Sure thing! It’d be my pleasure, Mr. Love.” His eyes lit up with excitement. Normally, Eli would have been reluctant to hand Pie to someone else, since she was both his responsibility and his beloved steed, but Gaffin would often insist on overseeing care of all of the horses, and he did a damn good job attending to them. Pie was in good hands. Eli gave Gaffin another nod and exited the barn.

* * *

“Love.”

The sharp voice unceremoniously yanked the giant from his snooze, making him flinch. He blinked his eyes to clear the sleep and looked up towards it. Standing over him was another giant, their dark eyes staring down at him from between their wide-brimmed hat and their yellow face scarf. They gave him an expectant look, one brow raised and arms crossed over their chest.

Eli groaned softly in a stretch and pushed himself up to sit. “Slayne. What is it?”

“You sure you’re good for a night patrol? Smart said you looked exhausted,” they said. Their expectant look shifted into something more concerned.

“Smart says a lot of shit,” Eli said tersely. “I’m fine.”

“Are you? It’s almost sundown and you’re still here.” They tilt their head towards the window, to the reddening sky beyond.

Eli cursed under his breath and lept up to his feet. Had he been asleep that long? He certainly didn’t feel very rested. His thoughts and dreams had been plagued with that woman, still lost somewhere in the forest…

“I’m fine,” he repeated. The giant pulled his scarf up over his nose and grabbed his hat from his bed post, then his gun belt. He pulled his boots on and brushed past Slayne, heading for the door.

“Elijah,” they said, using that same sharp tone. It made him pause and glance over his shoulder. “You’re not fine. But we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

Ugh. He wasn’t looking forward to that. How was he supposed to explain to her what kind of a night he’d had? He hardly understood it himself. Nevertheless, he offered a shrug and pushed through the door.

As expected, Blueberry Pie was out in the pasture, happily grazing away. Eli called her over with a loud whistle and led her to the barn to get saddled up, then, after getting a few more treats from Gaffin, headed off towards the farm’s perimeter.

* * *

Eli was no stranger to the night shift. Most of the time, he prefered it. Save for the occasional pest trying to get at the livestock, nights out in the pasture were quiet. None of the other giants could pester him out here. It was peaceful.

Usually.

Tonight was an exception. Tonight, Eli couldn’t seem to relax. He was antsy, on edge. His horse felt it too. Blueberry Pie was normally a very placid horse, but tonight, her ears swiveled to and fro at every noise, and frequently flicked back towards him. He could feel her tension just as much as she could feel his.

And the night was dragging on.

Eli rubbed at his brow and stifled another yawn––his third in the past half hour. His body felt tired, and his mind even moreso. The moons in the sky told him that it was only around midnight; he still had several hours to go before the suns came up, and plenty of perimeter to cover in that time. Eli gave Pie a firm pat on the neck and nudged her ribs, encouraging her to trot on.

They were near the clearing where the woman had appeared last night. A foul smell hit his senses, making the giant grimace. He’d noticed it the night before, too. It smelled rotten, like a dead animal. He’d made a mental note to investigate it, but the woman had pulled his attention away from it.

The campfire he’d used last night came into view through the trees. It was a common stopping point for Eli on these night patrols. He’d often rest here for a little bit before continuing on his way. Tonight, though, he didn’t feel too interested in stopping to rest. Despite the heaviness he felt, his anxiousness kept him moving. Eli eased Pie to a stop and dismounted.

Almost as soon as his boots hit the dust, a shrill scream pierced the air. Both giant and horse startled, the latter whinnying in her own alarm. Eli felt his blood chill. That was the same scream from last night––the woman’s scream.

Eli ran. He dashed into the forest, running towards where he thought the scream had come from. Another cry made him pause and readjust his route. With each stride, her distressed cries grew louder––as well as a rough scraping sound. Just beyond a wall of trees was a massive, dead oak. Scrabbling at its trunk was a huge, bear-like beast that stood nearly twenty feet in height. Its claws dug into the bark, clawing and reaching for something higher up. What it was, Eli didn’t yet see, but he could hear the woman still screaming nearby. He pulled one of his pistols and shouldered his way through the trees. The bear rounded on him, snarling. It was not something he wanted to fight; what it lacked in height––compared to him––it made up for in bulk. The giant fired a warning shot into the air and yelled, cracking the beast’s aggressive facade. It too, apparently, didn’t care to have this fight. Whatever meal it sought up in the trees wasn’t worth it. It turned tail and ran off, vanishing into the forest.

Once he was sure it was gone, Eli holstered his weapon. He kicked himself mentally for not shooting the damn thing. It was his and the other ranchers’ job to make sure that titanofauna didn’t come too near the property and the surrounding area. He’d have to hunt the bear down later.

Right now, he had another priority. A few feet above the gouges in the bark, a shape trembled in the moonlight. It was the woman. She shook like a leaf in a windstorm, and her breaths came in uneven gasps.

She was terrified. Not just of the bear, but of Eli.

Slowly, the giant knelt down before the tree. He studied her for a long moment. She was still naked, the poor soul, and she’d acquired many new cuts and bruises. Her legs and arms in particular were a ragged mess. Eli pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her, but the woman shrank away as best she could.

“Here,” he said, trying to keep his voice low. He gave the handkerchief a little shake. “Cover yourself.”

The woman stared at him, eyes wide as the moons themselves. Save for her shaking, she didn’t move. Eli frowned. He lifted the handkerchief and dropped it over her, making her cry out in alarm. It was comically large compared to her, like a bed sheet. She struggled under the fabric for a minute, limbs flailing, until she managed to get her head out. Her hair stuck out at odd angles, making her look feral––or more feral than she already looked.

“You should drink something too,” Eli said. He pulled his canteen from his belt and removed the cap, then held it to the woman so that water pooled at the lip. Again, she shrank away. Eli sighed. “I don’t wanna dump this on you too. I suggest you just drink.”

Much to his surprise, the woman complied. She dipped her hands into the pooling water and pulled a handful to herself. Her first drink was tentative, but her next two were more eager. Eli figured it had been a while since she’d last had water, and he could guess food as well. She took two more handfuls of water before she backed off again. Some of the water had dripped down her chin and neck, washing away some of the dirt.

“Alright.” Eli capped and stowed the canteen. “Don’t suppose you want to tell me what’s going on?”

The woman stared at him. She looked marginally calmer, but fear and distrust still painted her demeanor.

“Got a name?”

Silence.

Under his mask, Eli pressed his lips together. He didn’t blame her for being afraid of him, but it made it a lot more difficult to help her.

“Okay,” he said with another sigh. “Come on out of the tree. I’ll get you somewhere safe.” He raised his hand, palm up, to her level. She yelped and tried to retreat further, but the giant handkerchief got tangled under her and threw her balance. The woman fell from her branch, dropping nearly five feet, directly into Eli’s palms. Her sudden weight startled the giant. She wasn’t heavy, but having her in his hands reminded him of the fact that, in his forty years, he had never actually held a human before.

The woman lied in his hold for a few stunned moments, then bolted upright with realization. She glanced at the fingers and flesh around her, then up to the masked giant’s face, and screamed. He flinched, eyes closing and brows furrowed. For such a small body, this human had a set of lungs in her. He felt her lurch, which made him curl his hands around her. That, in turn, made her struggle more.

“Miss––I’m trying to help–––” Abruptly, her scream faded, fizzled out like the cries of a dying elk. Eli opened one eye, and then the other, to see her body limp in his hold. A pang of alarm struck him. “Miss? Hey–––” He opened his hands to see her better. He hadn’t squeezed her at all––or so he thought. Gingerly he prodded her side with a thumb. When she didn’t react, he gathered her in one hand, and gently rested two fingers to her chest. He dared not even breathe, not until he could feel the faint, fluttering beat under the cloth and flesh. Her heart was still ticking. She was still breathing. She was just unconscious, likely having fainted from shock. Eli released his breath and let his shoulders relax a little with relief.

Though she didn’t seem too keen on going with him, Eli couldn’t just leave her here. That wasn’t an option. Carefully he wrapped the handkerchief around her so that it was a bit more secure, and so that it might keep her restrained, should she wake up violently. He brought her nearer to his chest and stood up.

The breeze picked up, carrying with it another wave of the vile smell. Eli grimaced and fought off the urge to gag. He really needed to find out what the hell was causing that stink. It was probably what attracted the bear.

But that would have to wait another day. Tonight, he needed to focus on getting this mysterious woman to safety.

Keeping her cradled to his chest, Eli returned to where he’d left his horse. Blueberry Pie lifted her head, her ears angled towards him as he emerged from the treeline, and grunted in greeting. He returned the greeting with a pat to her forehead and a soft hello. She leaned in towards the bundled handkerchief, nostrils flared, and gave the woman a curious sniff.

“Easy, Pie,” he chided gently. “She’s not a treat. We ought to get her back to the farm.” He patted the horse’s neck affectionately, then rounded to her side and pulled himself up into the saddle. Having only one free hand made it a little bit more difficult, but, once he was settled, he took the reins and gave Pie a nudge to start walking.

There was still some perimeter left to patrol, but he had a feeling the woman wouldn’t be waking up for a while yet. He’d keep her safe with him until they reached the farm, and then he’d figure out what to do with her.

#g/t #g/t fiction #g/t writing #gcmm #elijah love #conn slayne #rain smart #geon gaffin #hyena ocs #hyena writes

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 3.3

"You can't run from us." Aether's lifeless eyes stared straight through you.

"Your time has come," Paimon grinned evilly.

"Die here." Childe stood between them as they all surrounded you, his eyes more devoid of emotion than Aether's.

"Leave me alone!" Your shout echoed through space. "You can't hurt me! Xiao will protect me!"

"You think he can protect you from me? Oh, ojou-chan〰" Childe knelt in front of you and grabbed your chin. "You're naïve to rely on him. But I suppose it's all you can do, since you're too weak to defend yourself."

"Xiao!" You slapped the Harbinger's hand away and scooted backwards. "Xiao! Adeptus Xiao! Please!"

Childe's manic laughter drowned out your desperate cries for help.

You awoke with a gasp and sat up. Who was it that you could trust? Aether was your number one answer out of the three of them, but after seeing that expression on his face, you weren't too sure. Helplessness overwhelmed you, and your eyes struggled to adjust to darkness. The campfire was dim and close to burning out so you added a few blocks of wood without disturbing anyone. You lay your sluggish body back onto your sleeping mat and finally caught your breath, the cold sweat evaporating in the cool spring air.

The rustling of leaves to your right made you snap your head in that direction. Who was tasked with keeping watch tonight? A quick glance around the campsite answered Aether. But no one showed themselves near the rustling, and Aether was on the opposite side of the campsite. You glared into the darkness and instead of being greeted with malice, a gentle breeze brushed past your face.

Wind? It didn't make any sense. Nothing else was being disturbed in the camp besides your hair. You felt someone's presence, and yet no one was standing there; your adjusted vision proved it. The presence comforted you in some strange way, and it felt familiar too. You peered up into the tree canopy and found no figures sitting on the branches as you had expected.

"...Xiao?" You practically mouthed the word. The breeze swirled around you a few times, brushing against your arms and shoulders, then blowing your hair out of your face until it finally retracted and caressed your cheek--a lingering touch. "You heard me." Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization.

He had only been gone for two days, but you never felt his presence like this before. Even in person. He was watching over you the entire time, even if you didn't realize it. You may not have called for him consciously yet he heard your prayers nonetheless and came to you. You found yourself reaching out into the open air silently begging for the breeze to return to you once more.

It did.

A swift yet gentle trace from your forehead, down the side of your face, across your jaw and ending at your chin. You could feel the gentle nature radiating from the force, even if it wasn't a lot considering the yaksha only knew death and destruction. Still, he persisted to try and convey his thoughts to you. It felt as though he was smiling ever so slightly as he did this, and you smiled back at the empty space.

But as quickly as he traced your face, the breeze dispersed and he was gone.

........................................

Several days passed without incident, and the two adepti had yet to return. Aether had decided that the group would make a trip west of Dihua Marsh in search of a treasure rumored to have been left behind by a yaksha long ago. By the time the group reached the stone tablet that held instructions for this treasure, you were already overwhelmed with missing Xiao's company.

"'My name is Bosacius, one of the Yakshas,'" Paimon read aloud to the group. "'I followed my Lord to fight against and contend with pestilence. Yet though we Yakshas had great might, we were bound by our duties, and stained by them...Liyue is now at peace, but of our number, none but Alatus and I remain. And for my part, I wish to depart, to be done with this world. My wealth I leave here, sealed by my arts. If you are fated to do so, take them as you please.'"

"Did they...kill themselves?" You voiced the question on everyone's minds. The group was silent as they contemplated the meaning of the yaksha's words.

"If that were the case, I'm sure Mr. Zhongli would know," Childe stared grimly at the tablet. There were no records of Alatus surviving nor dying as far as he knew. Perhaps this adeptus was living a peaceful life he could disrupt on the Tsaritsa's behalf, and not waste time with you and Xiao anymore...

"I've heard stories of the yakshas," Diluc nodded. "It's been said that some were driven to the point of insanity from fighting daemons under Morax's orders. They'd be put down by their allies if they didn't kill themselves first."

"That's horrible," you muttered and lightly touched the crumbling stone. "I've heard names of yakshas growing up, but this is the first time I've heard of an Alatus...what a pretty name. I wonder what happened to them?"

"Paimon hopes they managed to find at least some happiness in their lives."

"Yeah..." You stood up and contemplated the tablet. Alatus and Bosacius...I wonder if Xiao knew them...And to be driven to insanity no less...Xiao has the same task, yet he seems to be doing okay. But what if he isn't? Your eyebrows scrunched together at the possibility. I pray you're doing well, Xiao.

"Well, let's go find the treasure! Maybe those two hilichurl camps hold the light actuators! And the other one might be up the hill!"

"You sure moved on fast," Aether commented. "Let's see...Diluc and I can take the camp with the lawachurl. Childe and Bennett could take the one over there, and you can go up the hill."

"Actually--" Bennett stepped forward with a nervous grin. "It would be better if I went alone. I could get you injured!"

"A little injury won't throw me off," Childe assured. "Don't worry so much, comrade."

"Uh...o-okay..."

"Can you handle yourself?" Aether turned to you.

"Yep! I'll yell if I need help."

The group dispersed. You climbed up the hill to be greeted by two powered-down ruin guards. The light actuator sat in a locked cell tower. One ruin guard sat at the top of the stairs connected to the tower, while the other sat a little too close to the rock you needed to use to free the actuator from its prison.

"I should be able to get up there without waking the machines." You carefully walked up to the glowing rock and started slicing at it with your sword. Once it shattered, you grabbed the orb that burst from it and made your way over to the left side of the tower, placing it in the lantern that sat half-buried in the ground. You sheathed your sword before climbing.

Once you got to the top, your foot slipped and kicked a rock over the edge of the structure. You had just grabbed the light actuator when you heard the metallic sound of machinery standing up behind you. The rock had hit the sleeping ruin guard.

"Crap!" You peeked below you, and found the cyclops eye staring straight at you. It turned around and bent over slightly, and heat rose from its back as it fired up its rocket launchers. You scanned your surroundings. If you ran left, you would wake the second ruin guard. If you went right, you risk breaking your ankle if you land wrong. Either way, the rockets would hit you since you wouldn't have enough time to dodge at this distance. "Dammit." You clicked your tongue and threw yourself off the tower before you could hesitate. The rockets hit the cell and launched chunks of concrete into the air.

You rolled on the ground for a few feet, and sat up. The ruin guard was now facing you, but instead of following through with its programmed set of attacks, it squatted and readied its launchers again.

"The eye! I need to hit the eye!" You pushed yourself to your feet and hesitated. You were at a larger distance from the guard this time; it would be simpler to dodge now and attack after. If you ran towards it now, you'd definitely get hit. Your hand fell to the hilt of your sword. I could throw it. It was instantly unsheathed, and you chucked it at the eye of the machine.

You missed.

It had hit right below the eye and clattered unceremoniously onto the ground. You frantically glanced around for something to hide behind. A medium-sized rock was to your left. It wouldn't provide full cover, but it was better than nothing; you dove for it and covered your head.

Nothing happened save for the sound of an arrow whizzing through the air. You peeked over the boulder to find that Childe had hit a bullseye and transitioned into his hydro blades. He defeated the ruin guard in less than ten seconds.

"It's a good thing I got here in time," he turned to you and his bow disappeared behind his back. "You would've been seriously injured if you had gotten hit with that rock."

"T-thanks," you rose from behind your lousy shield. "But I had it under control."

"Oh?" Childe plucked your sword off the ground and handed it to you with an amused expression. "This sword's seen better days. I'll get you a new weapon." You sheathed your sword without replying, and Childe's face fell. "Are you injured?"

"Luckily not."

"That's good." Relief laced his voice, which relieved you of some of your suspicions. His gentle smile was replaced with a sigh. "Bennett broke his arm."

#genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao fanfiction #xiao x reader #xiao one shot #xiao imagines #genshin impact imagines

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judyhopps934-mt-zd · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Lies

Warning: Spoilers! And possibly having your heart torn into pieces. Other than that, have fun!

We open up with Marinette figuring out the recipes for the power ups as the new guardian.

I am disappointed that she still has not stopped oogooling over Adrien when he appeared on the news. Especially since she was allegedly with Luka by then. (I'll explain what I mean in just a minute)

Adrien was tired after the day he had as Adrien, which is a contrast of what Marinette believes his life is like. But being Chat Noir is the highlight of his day...

...only to not see Ladybug show up for patrols. And we see that it was all due to her figuring out the powerups.

Also, the patrols are a thing in cannon and I am still not over it after "Truth".

Chat Noir hoping for an akumatization so he can escape his civilian life radiated the same energy as Alya asking for akumatizations to interview the temporary heroes on her IG post. I get it, but still! We do not have people in danger for our needs.

Plagg being the one who announces any voice messages for Chat and asking for cheese through the feature on the Chat Phone brings me a whole other level of life.

Also, the whole milk thing at Le Grand Paris bar counter. It was hilarious, but also very sad. He really missed his m'lady

He ends the patrol after he saw Kagami training with her mom. And the smiles on his face! *Cries in Marichat and Ladynoir*

Plagg is the one that encourages Adrien to move on from Adrien, just like he applauded him from doing so in Loveater.

Kagami apparently said that fencing lessons are scheduled an hour in advance and Adrien (with that goofy grin on his face) knew what was up!

Both Ms. Tsurugi and Gabriel are very pissed at one another for the schedule change. That's hilarious, although everything comes at a price.

The parallels! Kagami is apparently learning Russian at her mother's request. Truly is a reflection of Adrien, civilian life wise.

Kagami? Lying???? The hell???? Who are you and what have you done to Kagami????? (Why am I surprised, y'all did this in Desperada)

She lies to their parents and the teacher to be in the art room with Adrien. I get it, teenage rebellion after being under an uninvolved parent, but still!

I like how the writers gave Kagami another dimension by saying she loves art, but her mom does not like her passion for drawing.

To Kagami's mom: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR DAUGHTER IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH???!!! HER DRAWINGS BELONG IN A MUSEUM!

Also, art reflecting the truth? Hmmm.....

Since people like mentioning that Marinette has a thing for people with absent parents after "Truth", I will now say that Adrien has a thing for people who are great at drawing. I do not take criticism.

Kagami is hinting that Adrien's civilian life is not his true self (thank you for understanding him!)...

...but also says that being a "clown" (it was the Chat pose) is also not who he really is. The fandom would disagree with you. Although that brings up the question of whether both personalities merge to form who he really is and cannot be seen completely by anyone in any part of his life. But he is more like Chat Noir regardless.

Also, I want to see Adrien and Kagami spend more time together prior to this episode to see why she was not pleased with him being a clown if that's who he truly is, because her repositioning him against the wall made me feel like she is trying to place Adrien into a mold that reflects the image she might have created in her mind. (I don't know, this was just the first thought that came in my mind.)

They almost kiss, with Adrien being taken into shock (not terrified as we thought) until the alarm saying they have fencing lessons starting interrupts them and Adrien runs out, not before BLUSHING LIKE HELLO?!?!?

This is what I referred to in my second point and confirms what everyone was saying about this episode: this is "Truth", but through Adrien's perspective. Finally, an Adrien-centered episode!!!

To continue, every time Adrien and Kagami are together or were about to kiss, a sentimonster appears, with Ladybug trying to do something about it. Just like Lukanette, just like Adrigami: being a superhero affects your love life as a civilian.

Chat being thrown off the roof by accident and being rescued will never get old or less funny lol.

Montages continues up until the boat scene, where Adrien missed the intro to the performance, but I will never get over the fact as to how Adrien made it there before Marinette. It is beyond me.

Kagami not letting Adrien stay for 5 more minutes. Hmm...

Their cute moment together was what will lead to the demise of Adrigami as Kagami noticed he dropped the infamous lucky charm bracelet. *le gasp!

Why *le gasp*? Because 1) I fear it symbolizes that something will happen to Adrienette or that Adrien has forgotten about her, and 2) Wait until later.

Kagami revealed she lied so she can spend more time with Adrien alone, lying about leaving rehearsal earlier, lying about the fencing lessons rescheduling, and who else knows what else so she can be with him.

She tells him she loves him. But Adrien notices Ladybug and an Akuma. Oh boy, he wasn't able to give her any attention.

Because he left towards the direction of the boat (and said he left something there), Kagami used that to conclude it had something to do with Marinette. Oh boy.

Either I missed an entire scene about Ladybug knowing ShadowMoth's name, or we were not supposed to know how they know until this episode. It feels out of place to me, but oh well.

"I..am...AN INCREDIBLE SWIMMER!" still cracks me up even when I know how important it was in protecting her secret identity.

Happy Birthday Prince Ali!

Apparently, Kagami lied that her mom was in charge of watching over Adrien (or maybe not? I can't tell at this point.)

Yep, Kagami believes that Adrien is going after Marinette and probably resents them both if her facial expression says anything

We get to see that Ladynoir moment from "Truth"!! I love these two and their banter.

Adrienette stans, not much has changed. Adrien was concerned that he lost the Lucky Charm bracelet, for real. But said again because he though he would be clear of the lie since he thought he had it on him.

Kagami confronts him with it. AND THIS IS HIS SHOCKED FACE SCENE FROM THE TRAILER!!!

Thinking that she lies to get out of being with her, she leaves. With the bracelet. The leaving part is understandable, especially because she does not know about him being Chat Noir or what entails him to do. But why take the bracelet???

Adrien is also saddened by what happened. He also liked her.

We've never seen that part of city hall. Well designed in my opinion.

She was the akuma in City Hall with the glowing sphere! We were right!!!

Adrien feels guilty, though it is not really his fault. He has a duty to Paris!

Why is the music sounding different in French.

Jagged Stone. How do I feel about you after learning you purposefully abandoned Luka and apparently Juleka? Also, what's with the song??? (Rhetorical question. Do not answer)

We were wrong about Kagami's power: it paralyzes people who lie, not kill everything in its path.

Jagged, you abandoned your children. And you apparently lied about your age?!?!?! Both episodes show something about Jagged Stone that make him seem like an awful person on the inside.

Ladybug, how do you know about Lies's powers?!?!? There is a hole in the plot here! Unless there were other paralyzed civilians that gave her power a dead giveaway.

Chat Noir, if you lie as a civilian for whatever reason, of course Ladybug will too, since as a civilian, you need to lie to keep your secret identity a secret. Same rules apply to Ladybug, especially as the guardian.

The Lucky Charm is a drone, not a camera like I thought. How the hell did I get into an ivy if I can't tell the difference?!?!

Chat Noir pretending to lie is funny. It might also be his peppy attitude to lying. Also, his funnier version of ShadowMoth's name.

Ladybug finds the akumatized object and gasps. I wonder if its only a eureka moment or also the fact that she recognizes the bracelet, especially if its custom made.

Brutally honest people does not exist (we have all lied at some point, even Kagami who is usually brutally honest with people), but animals can't lie.

Fang being involved in destroying the akuma is cool.

This is the moment that we dreaded so much, yet knew was coming: CHAT NOIR DIES!

JK! He actually is paralyzed by truth because he jumped into the glowing orb. We were right that this is an anguishing scene to watch, but we're wrong about the part that he's killed. Yet, he still unnecessarily sacrificed himself and caused Ladybug to be angst about it.

WHAT IS UP WITH CHAT NOIR BEING HAPPY ABOUT SACRIFICING HIMSELF?!?!? AND DO NOT SAY ITS BECAUSE HE TRUSTS LADYBUG!

Yes Ladybug. Chat is crazy. And also crazy for you. And you are right about the crazy unconscious part. My Ladynoir heart!

ShadowMoth almost won until Fang bit off the charm bracelet. Thanks Fang!

Chat backing away from Fang licking him is a mood.

My favorite Ladynoir moment of the evening: Ladybug telling Chat to stop sacrificing himself and Chat saying she likes her adorable angry face. Her smirk afterwards.. And then their pound it.

But no seriously Chat. You need to stop doing that to Ladybug. She cannot take it anymore

Plagg said that even if Adrien loves someone else, he is likely to go back to Ladybug. Just like he goes back to Camembert. Seriously, despite his cheese analogies, he gives great wisdom.

Not Kagami almost beating up Adrien during his fencing lessons. And Mr. D'Angercourt notices this too as he stopped Kagami's final blow.

Also, isn't it illegal in fencing to push people? Oh boy.

And there's the Adrigami breakup scene: Adrien telling Kagami that he enjoys their time together and Kagami knowing their is sincerity in him. It is sort of unclear who actually ended things when Adrien asks if they could still be friends, but Kagami ends it all by saying that she will let him know once she can face him again. Ouch.

Adrien is hurt and stares at the lucky charm bracelet with what looks like sadness. Once again ouch.

Like Lukanette, I want to see Adrien and Kagami be happy together at least until halfway through this season. The issue is that it will hurt them more in the end.

Also, I noticed the difference between Luka and Kagami when ending their respective relationships. It hurt them both, but Kagami was more forward about it and Luka was somewhat passive. It could be based on what they know about their now exes (Luka knew that Marinette had feelings for Adrien and was not secretive about it even when they were together if the truths her friends said and the opening scene to this episode reflect this, whereas Kagami only has a suspicion and Adrien does not say anything regarding to it.

Also, I really did not like how the breakup on this end resulted in. While more realistic for a lot of people, it did not help that it involved Kagami as there are people who will go after Kagami after watching this episode, and I believe that the writers know this. Kagami is a good person who has a different response to the trust issues and lack of communication, as well as lies in their relationship. Not saying its a perfect one, but an understandable one. In conclusion, don't trash Kagami, especially if you saw this coming.

I take back what I said before; this is my favorite Ladynoir scene. I want to hug them both because they have to lie and keep secrets from everyone, even have some secrets between themselves! But at least they can trust each other! Excuse me while I cry over how much we are being fed. Also, the fact that they broke up with their respective partners makes this both heartwarming and heart breaking.

Overall, this episode is just as good as Lies! It is the first fully Adrien-centered episode, which makes this a first and already exciting. While I did not like how their breakup was handled, it was realistic and showed that honesty and communication are important. Also, can my children be happy together for longer than an episode??? I swear, their pain hurts me.

But at least Ladybug and Chat Noir have each other's company to get them through. May us Ladynoir stans continue to be fed!

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thetaoofzoe · 4 years

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FIC: The Mercy In You 1/1

Pairing: Demon Priest! Henry Cavill x YOU

Summary: You liked Sunday Sermons in the courtyard of the church the most.

Rating: Explicit, some religious/satanic imagery, oral sex (male receiving), rapacious absolution and yes, it’s the smutty smut you expect ;)

Notes: I don’t remember who said it, but this came out of the conversation regarding Sherlock!Henry’s high white collar :)

Bonus points if you know the song from which I took the title.

(sherlock pic from andyicons)

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

It was an extremely pleasant mid-Autumn morning and you enjoyed the warmth of the sun on your shoulders as you sat on the soft, neatly cut grass in the small courtyard between the church’s main building and the second smaller building which had been repurposed for administrative offices.

A thick luscious green hedge enclosed one side of the courtyard, and on the other side stood a tall iron lattice fence woven with thick ropy green vines from which sprouted sweet smelling red and purple flowers.

As you sat there, basking in the sun, you watched as two men, dressed all in black, ferried a small table and two matching chairs from the administrative building and into the courtyard where they set them up near to the tall hedge. Another man brought out a white dish, a vase of flowers and a silver goblet which he arranged carefully on the table.

One of the men looked your way and you gave him a friendly wave. He nodded and you went back to checking your audio equipment.

It was just another daily sermon session that the church liked to provide for parishioners who could not, or did not want to attend in person, but still wanted to receive the good word. You and your crew had been working with the church for months now, helping them to set up and livestream the daily sermons, and then edit and post the videos to the church’s website for future viewing.

You attended most of the filming sessions and found that each presenter brought a different flavour to their sermons, which you liked. And, while you weren’t particularly religious you found yourself liking the Sunday Sermons the best, for was a nice positive way to start the week.

‘Well,’ said the cameraman, glancing at his wristwatch. ‘We’re just waiting for the priest. We’ve got about a half hour before we start the stream.’

With a soft groan born of stiff cramped muscles from sitting cross-legged too long, you pressed up from the ground and stretched.

‘I’ll go and have a look around for him. I also want some water, so… two birds, one stone.’

The cameraman shrugged and you turned away, scowling, rebuffed that you didn’t even get a chuckle from your off-handed joke.

You walked across the grass to one of the open doors that you knew led to the corridor that ran directly passed the ladies loo and into the kitchen. Stepping into the cool dim interior, something odd grabbed your attention.

You paused and listened carefully, but there was only muted silence. You closed your eyes and a sudden wave of strange arousal washed over you. You sucked in a sharp breath, surprised by the response of your body to that unseen force.

Then as quickly as the fervour had seized you, it was gone. You opened your eyes and casting about an apprehensive glance, you let out a shaky breath. You were alone in the corridor. Or at least as alone as you could tell. You made moves to continue to the kitchen when your bladder reminded you that there was another pressing matter at hand.

You eyed the heavy wood loo door and said aloud, ‘Ok, three birds.’

There were no towels, so you were still shaking your hands dry when you left the toilets, and walked down the hall to where the offices were located. If the priest giving the sermon was anywhere, it was probably in there.

As you approached the offices, you could hear a soft chanting. The sound of it seemed to be coming from everywhere and you stopped, feeling a little disorientated. There was that rush of arousal again and you could feel the wetness beginning to seep into the crotch of your knickers.

The chanting waned a bit and keeping your focus on the door marked ‘Office’ you forced yourself to keep moving. You then realised that the chanting was coming from behind the office door. Male voices rose and fell rhythmically and you wondered if they were getting ready for the morning. Although you were loathe to disturb the men, you lifted your hand to knock on the door as you had to fetch the priest who would be giving the sermon in less than half an hour.

You knocked, and the chanting ceased. Putting on your pre-emptively chagrined face, you waited nervously for the door to swing open and possibly reveal a frazzled looking priest. However, you were still facing a closed door after a few minutes drifted by.

You knocked again.

Silence.

You felt uneasy and slipped your hand down the smoothly worn wood to rest on the door knob. You didn’t want to just barge in, so you waited and lifted your hand to knock again.

‘Are you looking for someone?’

The quiet voice behind you made you jump. You spun round, and pressed back against the office door.

‘Oh!’ you cried, pressing a hand to your breast and cringing at how dramatic you sounded. ‘You gave me a such a fright! I didn’t hear you.’

You recognised the tall man standing behind you and he looked perfectly pleasant with his bright blue eyes, brown curls and stiff high white collar.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said slowly, but looked anything but. ‘That wasn’t my intention.’

You let out a relieved, breathy laugh and mentally groped for his surname.

‘It’s Father ahh…’

‘It’s just Henry, please. There’s no need for formalities.’

You tasted his name on your tongue, licking it into the roof of your mouth, savouring it as you formed the syllables of his name and dumbly repeated it back to him, much to his visual delight.

It was an effort to break his gaze and you silently congratulated yourself when you managed to do it.

‘I’m ah…’ you jerked a thumb over your shoulder at the door behind you. ‘I’m looking for the priest who is doing the morning sermon. I... hahaha... I got distracted by the chanting.’

His eyes slid over to the door and then back to you and you felt thoroughly probed by his intense gaze. Your nipples tightened reflexively and you were embarrassed by the sweet lasciviousness that rose unbidden in your thoughts.

‘I don’t think anyone’s in there,’ he said, sounding incredulous about your claim of hearing chanting.

You opened your mouth to defend your own lucidity, but the words dried up when he reached for you. A pulse of excitement echoed in your core and you tensed, ready for the heat of his hand on you.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, he merely nudged you aside and closing his hand round the wood doorknob, he turned it. You barely had time to step away before he swung the door open, revealing a small cluttered room with one dusty window and four wood desks crammed close together in the centre. Trying to keep a respectable distance between the two of you and failing miserably, you curved around the door frame and sheepishly peeked in.

The room was empty and the free standing water dispenser gurgled mockingly from its place in the corner.

With his hand still on the knob, and his body trapping you in the corner between the door and the wall, Henry looked at you.

He was so close.

‘Maybe that’s what you heard?’ he asked, indicating the dispenser with a jerk of his chin.

‘I heard voices,’ you mumbled, looking back at him.

Noticing the thin strands of grey mingling with the curls at his temple, you caught yourself before you leaned in and sniffed him like a bitch in heat.

There was that wave of dark arousal again, deep and thrumming and more intense this time and you could only imagine that the source of that tantalising sensation, was Henry.

He pulled the door closed again and it slapped unceremoniously against your bottom, startling a gasp out of you.

‘Anything else?’ he asked, sounding pleased with himself.

There was something that he wanted, something that he expected from you and you couldn’t bring yourself to admit that whatever this thing was, you wanted to give it to him.

‘Forgive me, Father,’ you gasped, words escaping your wicked mouth before you even attempted to squash them.

His eyebrows rose with interest, silently asking about what you let hang unsaid in the air, and his plush lips lengthened into a knowing smile. There was an eagerness to his manner now, excitement and expectation in his fathomless blue eyes.

Was there a need to respond?

Obviously not, for Henry turned round without another word and beckoning you with two fingers, he led you from the administrative building to the main church and to the row of confessional booths lining the back wall.

When he pulled open the door to one of the booths, you belatedly thought that if this was the Father who was giving the sermon, this might make him late.

You had to say something.

‘I– I ah…’ you started and he paused mid-step into the booth, but didn’t look at you.

And in between slow, deep breaths, you heard him say, ‘Come, child.’

Or at least, you thought he spoke.

The whisper of his deep voice swirled around like smoke, coming from everywhere, coming from you and you weren’t sure which of you had spoken. You felt dizzy and unfettered and Henry was the only anchor that your mind could hold on to.

He then stepped fully into the booth and was sitting on the bench seat when you too stepped inside and closed the half-latticed door behind you. There was a low padded stool between his feet and instinctively you dropped to your knees before him. On the wall above his head hung the upside down cross outlined in thin red neon tubing and he was vaguely illuminated in the crimson tinged darkness.

You were sure that he was saying something and this close to him, you could feel his voice rumbling through you more than you could hear, or make out the words. You put your hands together in prayer in front of your face, then pressed your lips to the backs of your upraised thumbs.

Henry murmured soft encouraging praise when you reached forward and pushed aside the front panels of his black cassock. The material was softer than you expected and smiling a little, you stroked your palms up his surprisingly muscular thighs to where his trousers were fastened with a simple button and zip fly.

Henry trailed delicate fingers along your hair line and you could smell the scent of sugary vanilla and warm heather. You closed your eyes, inhaling the pleasant scent of his skin, and let your hands work blindly to guide his rock hard cock from his trousers. He was thick and heavy in your hands, nearly monstrous and your mouth watered at the sight of him.

You looked up at the sound of a soft exhalation of breath and what you saw made your own breath catch. He seemed to glow, the caramel highlights in his chocolate brown hair catching the blood red light, that same light causing the wetness between his slightly open lips to glisten. Sharp, jagged upper fangs curved down against his lower lip and the evidence of his true nature pulsed molten heat through you. This is what he was, this beast, you thought ecstatic to be privy to this sinful delight.

It was nothing at all to slide his glorious cock into your eager mouth and even further when he pressed your head down.

The scent of him surrounded you and the taste of him was incredible. Flattening your tongue, you drew back and trailed saliva wet strokes up and down the underside of his rigid flesh and Henry groaned deeply, voluptuously in response. Greedily, you engulfed him again, suckling him desperately, unashamed by the muffled, hungry noises you made.

You dug your fingers into his thigh to gain some purchase as you encircled the base of his cock with the other. When you squeezed, he swore beneath his breath, pushing you on to do it again. You swirled your tongue round the swollen, leaking head, licking him, sucking him until his hips snapped up to force his slick cock down your throat.

He gripped the back of your neck, and growled, ‘Accept your absolution.’

You held your breath and went still, relishing the fiery pulse of cum filling your mouth. Your face went hot and with salty tears stinging your eyes, you accepted it rapaciously.

Mouth brimming with thick creamy fluid, you gazed up at him once more, and in the dim crimson light, he gave you a contented grin that again exposed his ivory coloured fangs.

He then fisted your hair and dragged you up from your knees before forcing you to straddle him.

Leaning in you let his sticky cum dribble into his open, waiting mouth as he guided you down into a sloppy possessive kiss.

Your walkie talkie crackled and you could hear the staticky voice of the cameraman.

‘Have you located Father Henry?’ he asked, sounding annoyed. ‘He’s going to make us late!’

Henry continued to kiss you, sucking your tongue into his mouth, heedless of the call for the Sunday Sermon. His grip on your arse held you tight to him and it was a struggle to pull away.

‘They… they’re looking for you,’ you gasped, stating the obvious.

‘And?’ he asked.

‘And, you ahh… promised?’

What else could you say to a demon priest who was scheduled to perform the Sunday morning sermon?

Henry righted himself, huffed a disappointed sigh and standing, dumped you off of his lap. You tried to take a step back, but stumbled over the low stool. He caught you up by the waist and tutted softly.

‘I shan’t dare damage you as I wish to have you for later.’

In his dark embrace, you found yourself swooning. He lifted you effortlessly with one hand and opening the booth door, he deposited you carefully on your feet out in the main hall’s interior. You stared helplessly up at him, your devotion to him burning like a live wire inside you. You felt that you could weep at the sight of him.

He looked perfectly composed and just as pleasant as he did when you encountered him earlier in the day. You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to silence your disappointed moan when he turned and strode to the courtyard where the filming crew waited.

Instead of following him, you went to sit in one of the back pews and looked up at the monstrous upside down cross that hung behind the pulpit - a knowing specter that had been a witness to your rapturous gratification.

Your walkie crackled again.

‘Get out here! Who else is going to work the audio?’

With a sigh, you heaved yourself up from the pew and trudged out to the courtyard. You knew you wouldn’t survive the next hour.

-End. Please like reblog and follow, all that good stuff. Comment if you were moved :)

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader

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katelyn--renee · 3 years

Text

Out of the Fire (Part one)

Title: Out Of The Fire (Part one)

Fandom: Supernatural AU

Main Characters series: Reader, Lieutenant Firefighter!Dean Winchester, Lawyer!Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester (Moore), Nurse!Lisa Braeden (Formerly Winchester), Ben Braeden-Winchester, Harper Winchester (OFC), Charlie Bradbury, Firefighter!Benny Lafitte, Firefighter!Jo Harvelle, Firefighter!Castiel Novak, Claire Novak, Mechanic!John Winchester, Firefighter Captain!Ellen Harvelle, Mechanic!Bobby Singer, Doctor!Arthur Ketch, Nick Vaught and many more!

Pairings: Dean x Reader (eventual), Dean x Lisa (past), Reader x Nick (past), Lisa x Ketch (current), Sam x Jessica (current)

Word count: ±2500 words

Series summary: A slow burn romance. Reader is trying to get away from her troubled past and start fresh; a new name, new town, new friends, and a new job. A clean slate. After years of planning and saving, she is able to open her own business. With the help of her best friend and business partner, Charlie Bradbury, and her new flirty firefighter friend, she is hopeful, even when disaster strikes and her past threatens to catch up with her years later.

Part one summary: Fire erupts and engulfs her beloved business, but something arises from the ashes and ignites a new desire.

Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fire or mentions of fire, fluff (so much fluff), angst, eventual smut, mutual pining, alcohol abuse, alcohol intoxication, mentions of domestic abuse (physical, verbal), mentions of miscarriage, mentions of adultery/cheating, mentions of death, dangerous or life threatening situations, stress, descriptions of injuries, blood, hospital scenes, character death.

Author’s note: This is my first series and my first attempt at an Supernatural AU. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. I will try to release new chapters at a timely fashion, but as we all know, life sometimes gets in the way.

A special thank you to @that-one-gay-girl and @deanwanddamons for being the wonderful beta’s that you are! Your feedback is always appreciated! Check out their awesome work and spread some love!

All dividers and graphics done by me!

If you like this story, please don’t hesitate to leave a like, comment and if you’re feeling extra generous, share! Your feedback gives me live and motivation!

Thank you and let’s enjoy this ride together!!

Out of the Fire Masterlist!

Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.

Masterlist

It was so hot… Why was it so hot? And why was it so hard to breathe?

You stirred from your position on the tile floor, the long lashes of your (Y/E/C) eyes fluttering lightly as you woke. The first thing you registered was the intensity of the heat that surrounded you, quickly followed by the tightness of your chest as you struggled to take a deep breath. A vicious cough ripped through you with the effort, your throat raw.

You winced, your face scrunching with discomfort. You stirred again, needing to get up and move, to get away from the threatening heat, but your body protested with the effort. Your head was hammering, your brain pounding against your skull with every forceful beat of your heart.

What the hell happened?

You groaned as you brought a hand to your head, feeling something damp and slick against your skin. Blood. You forced your eyes open despite their heaviness, a futile attempt to gather your bearings; you couldn't see much through the thick, black smoke that hung in the air around you. Another cough tore from your lungs and stung your throat.

Fuck. That hurt.

You sucked in a rigid breath, wheezing as the smoke filtered in through your lungs. Get up! Move! You needed to get moving and find a source of fresh air, find somewhere safe, and quickly, before the smoke suffocated you and the flames consumed your body.

You scanned your surroundings swiftly, trying desperately to make every second count. Red hot flames licked the southwestern walls of the building on your right, engulfing everything that stood too close. That was where your office had been located, meaning the exit would be behind you, to the northeast. However, the counter separated you from your freedom, standing tall and stretching out and into the north wall, obstructing your path. The layout would force you to find another way around and take up so much of your precious time.

Rolling off your back and onto your belly, you supported your weight with your elbows and knees, making a point to stay as low to the ground as possible. You forced yourself to move, driven onward by adrenaline and the sheer will to survive. You were not going to die like this.

You army crawled through the rubble and debris that was once your beloved café, ignoring the way it made your heart clench with sorrow. Now was not the time to grieve. You needed to stay focused. Your life, literally, depended on it.

There was a loud crash somewhere in the distance - perhaps it was the ceiling caving in from structural damage, you weren't entirely sure - but the sound of it was startling and shook the floor beneath you, causing you to instinctively freeze and cradle your head, bracing yourself for impact.

A small yelp of surprise escaped from your throat as your body trembled with fear. You couldn't move, your muscles refusing to cooperate even though your brain screamed at you to do so.

There was another crash, much closer this time, as the flames ate away pieces of your heart and soul; all the years of hard work, burning to ash. You'd put everything into that little café, and now it was, quite literally, falling in around you. A ceiling beam landed in front of you , engulfed by flames and blocking your path.

You jerked back and shielded your face from the inferno with your arms, the skin burning from the intense heat. "Oh god," You cried out without realizing it, any hope of escape beginning to slip away. Tears filled your eyes and spilled over your lashes, streaming down your soot-covered cheeks as dread began to creep its way in.

Just breath, stay calm, you're okay, you told yourself, trying to prevent the lingering panic attack. You exhaled slowly, struggling to remain calm, willing the tears away. You banished them from your face with a swipe of your hand as you searched for another way out. With your back pressed against the counter to try and ground yourself, you pictured the floorplan around you in your head, trying to reassess where you were and which direction to go.

The kitchen. There was an employee exit through the kitchen. Changing direction and crawling back the way you came, you began your frantic crawl toward the swinging metal door. Your limbs felt like concrete as you forced yourself to move, and even though your vision started to get spotty and dark around the edges, making you feel nauseous, you kept on going, putting one arm in front of the other.

Just a little further. Don’t give up! But it was so hot, and you were so, so tired...

Just then, when you thought you weren't going to make it in time, you heard it… the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Anyone in here?!" He called out, his voice booming out over the roar of the flames. You could see the beam from his flashlight strapped to his shoulder, even through the thick wall of smoke. "Y/N?! Answer me, sweetheart!"

Your heart swelled with hope again as you recognized the man who was searching for you. Even though he sounded muffled through the oxygen mask covering his handsome face, you would recognize that voice anywhere.

It was Dean.

Dean, the firefighter you've grown so fond of these past few weeks, was here to save you.

You shifted on the floor and craned your neck to try and see him. "D-Dean! I-" A harsh cough interrupted you, "I'm he-here!" You cried out, your voice hoarse from the smoke. You went into another coughing fit, this one much rougher and longer than the others. You gasped for air, your lungs tight and constricting in your chest.

"I hear you, (Y/N)!" You heard him quickly respond, his voice gaining in volume as he grew closer. "Guys, over here!" He called out to the rest of the crew before following your voice. "I'm coming, sweetheart! Just hang on for me!"

"De-" You tried again, but your voice gave out. Your eyes grew heavy from exhaustion, and your body began to shake with the exertion and lack of fresh oxygen. Your head spun and your vision blurred as Dean came into view, the counter dividing the two of you.

In one effortless move, you watched through droopy lids as Dean vaulted over the counter and landed on the other side, his heavy boots thudding against the tile. He was now only an arm’s length away from you. You wanted to reach out for him, to touch him and make sure that he was actually there. But your limbs wouldn’t cooperate, feeling like stone at your sides.

He crouched down beside you and gripped your hand tightly as if reading your mind. His glove was thick and rough against your palm, but the material didn’t dampen the emotion or firmness that Dean put into the reassuring gesture.

With apprehensive, yet determined emerald eyes, he quickly assessed your body for any obvious injuries that would raise concern, ones that could be worsened or become life-threatening if he were to move you. He must have been satisfied with his examination, the look in his eye becoming slightly more hopeful.

His actions were rushed yet calculated as he removed his red lieutenant helmet, the mask quick to follow. His hair was tousled and sticking up in odd places. If this were any other, less dire situation and you were able to speak, you would have teased him about the messy heap on his head.

You heard one of the other firemen protest his actions, warning Dean that it was against protocol to remove his mask and put himself, and in turn everyone else, in more danger. "Fuck the protocol." Dean shot back over his shoulder sternly as he slipped the mask over your head, his large hands surprisingly delicate and gentle, even through the rough material of his gloves.

"There you go, sweetheart," He said a bit softer, turning his attention back to you. "That's it. Nice, deep breaths for me." He coaxed, nodding his head. "Good girl." He flashed you a brief, yet dazzling smile as you inhaled, following his instructions.

Your body rejoiced as the purest form of oxygen-filled your lungs, easing the tension inside of your chest, only momentarily. You struggled to keep your eyes open and focused on the beautiful man above you, his forest green eyes filled with so much concern. "Good girl," You heard him coo again, securing the helmet back onto his head.

The building creaked and groaned, threatening them with another collapse. Dean glanced up at the ceiling, his experience telling him that their time had been cut in half. You felt his large hands on your body as he scooped you into his strong arms, protectively holding you against his chest.

"I've got you." He muttered assumingly, trying to keep you calm as he rose to his full height, lifting you with ease. He scanned the surroundings, and you saw a hint of a frown tug at his lips, noticing the scowl on his brow. The fire was closing in, limiting his options and growing hotter by the second.

You made a motion toward the only exit available, lifting a shaky hand to point him in the right direction, and Dean seemed to have noticed your silent instruction. His eyes followed your finger, darting to the window on the metal door that framed the kitchen. He nodded before letting the others know, directing them to head back out through the front. They hesitated only briefly, knowing they’re not supposed to leave anyone alone, before following Dean's lead, trusting their lieutenant's judgment.

The experienced firefighter moved with determined strides, having wasted enough time as more of the building began to collapse down around the pair of you. There was a crack, and a loud pop from the ceiling as the building shifted again. The fireman shielded you as a few clusters of hot debris and flames fell from above, protecting you from the fire. One of the balls landed and burst onto his shoulder, the flames licking at his face. He shrugged it off with a low grunt, gritting his teeth through the sting of his cheek.

He refocused and took three large steps toward the kitchen, his heavy boots crunching the rubble beneath his feet as he closed the distance to freedom. Using his foot to force open the door, he let out a breath of relief, grateful to find that the exit was still a clear shot.

Despite the combined weight of his bulky gear, the oxygen tank strapped to his back, and the extra body cradled in his arms, Dean made good time and jogged toward the sizable steel door, determined to get you to safety.

Once again, he grunted through clenched teeth and lifted his powerful leg, the sole of his thick boot connecting with the push bar. The force of the impact caused it to swing swiftly on its hinges and crash against the brick wall.

Smoke billowed out from the now open door as Dean rushed out into the alley behind the café, sucking down gulps of fresh air. He grunted and coughed, staggering briefly before correcting himself. You wanted to ask him if he was okay, wanted to comfort your rescuer, but couldn't seem to find your voice.

The nighttime air was cool against your overheated skin, despite being this close to the fire, and it made you shudder in Dean's arms, goosebumps rising over your sensitive flesh. The firefighter shifted you in his strong arms, getting a better, more comfortable hold. Your head was nuzzled in the crook of his arm, giving you a perfect view of his handsome face.

Flashing red and blue lights bounced off the brink surrounding you and lit up Dean’s face, highlighting his strongest features. You’d never seen anything quite like it, but then again, you’d never been this exhausted before. Surely your head was playing tricks? You gazed up at him in awe, studying the determination that hardened his usual gentle features. His face was dirty with soot and darkened by the smoke, covering the freckles that normally adorned the bridge of his nose. His jaw was lined with stubble, emphasizing just how strong it was. There was a noticeable red patch on his cheek, the skin irritated and angry from the burn.

You were vaguely aware of the familiar, yet frantic, voice of your best friend and business partner, Charlie Bradbury. Her voice, regardless of its urgency, was drowned out by the sirens, fire hoses, and roaring flames behind you.

Sleep was beginning to linger at the forefront of your mind, tugging firmly and trying to force you into the blissful darkness of unconsciousness. You struggled to keep your eyes open, not wanting to give up the extraordinary view before you. But, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t keep them open any longer, and your (Y/E/C) eyes fluttered shut, despite your best efforts to keep them open and on the face of your rescuer.

You could hear the muffled voices of your redheaded friend and the first responders that surrounded you, specifically Dean and Charlie, but you couldn't quite make out what was being said, the drowsiness making it hard to stay focused. You felt yourself being moved, and the noise died down drastically as you were lifted and strapped down to something solid yet oddly comfortable as you fought to stay awake.

You peaked your eyes open, although they burned from all the smoke, you fought through the sting in search of your rescuer, but was met instead with the inside of an ambulance. It was bright, and the fluorescent light hurt your sensitive eyes.

Something warm and made of thick wool was draped over your body, stealing your attention. You refocused and spotted the green eyes you had been desperate to find. You never broke his gaze as the fireman's mask was removed and replaced by a much smaller one. You grabbed at his hand desperately when he shifted to leave, desperate to have him near.

His eyes dropped to where your hand touched his, and his expression softened almost instantly at your attempt to stop him, his large hand embracing yours. “They’re gonna take real good care of you, sweetheart.” He assured, his affectionate gaze turning back to you as he offered you a closed-lip smile. You could hear Charlie’s voice, sounding somewhere close by, but you couldn’t concentrate on anyone other than your hero.

Your vision darkened around the edges, and your grip on consciousness was growing weak. Your hand loosened from Dean’s grasp and fell limp as your eyes fluttered shut. “I’m right behind ya.” He promised as the paramedics ushered him out so they could get moving. His voice was the last thing you heard before the ambulance doors slammed shut, and the darkness of unconsciousness took over.

Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned next week for part two!

Read part two, here! -->>

Taglist!

Supernatural

@akshi8278

Out of the Fire (series)

@vicmc624 // @anotherspnfanfic // @krazykelly // @compresshischest09 // @thefamilybusiness

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say-the-name-sebongie · 3 years

Text

Statue

Synopsis: It's surprising how fast marble can turn back into flesh

Pairing: Jeonghan x fem!reader

Genre: fantasy

Warnings: mentions of losing sanity

Word Count: 800+ words

In the middle of the town, the marble statue of a man stood. Nobody really knew where it came from, who made it or when it got there. It’s just one of those things that had always just been. People in farther places called it the "Statue of the Fallen Angel" because the beauty of the statue's face was incomparable to anyone on earth.

But the statue was known as something else to the villagers that lived in the town. "Jeonghan", they called him, which meant “the soulmate” in an old dialect spoken by the town elders. Behind the sculpture's beautiful face was a legend that mystified everyone in the village.

The story goes that he was a man that once came to the village late one night. He was half-mad, screaming about a soulmate that had been taken from him. The man's cries reached the heavens where the gods of old took pity on the man slowly losing his sanity. In an attempt to end his suffering, they turned him into stone and cast a spell on him.

"When marble and skin touch, then once more, shall you be as you were before."

Upon hearing of the legend, travelers came from far and wide to try and see if they were the statue's soulmate. Years have passed and the legend became a mere story but that didn’t stop people from coming to see the statue.

The local government hired a cleaner every so often and they would be put to work every day to make sure that their top tourist attraction was in tip-top shape. This year, it was _____. She would have liked her job if people actually washed their hands before touching the statue or if the mayor had a fundraising project to put a roof above the statue's head to keep birds from dropping little presents on the it. None of that happened so she didn’t like her job. But a girl had to make some money if she wanted to live.

She lugged her bucket of working tools down to the center of town for her first day on the job. Teenage tourist girls were still loitering around, daring each other to touch “Jeonghan” as if it were actually going to turn into a human. _____ shook her head.

Slipping on her gloves, she shooed them away and got to work. She spritzed some soapy water onto the statue's arm where handprints of different people hid the marble's shine. One would think that the statue would have corroded after all these years but there wasn't a single crack on its surface. It looked as if it had been sculpted yesterday and not a few how ever many years ago.

______ moved toward “Jeonghan's” head. As she wiped its face clean, she couldn't help but admire the workmanship of the artist. Every detail looked so alive that it was no wonder people thought it used to be a person. It was as if the sculptor could control marble, bending it to his will and creating a masterpiece like this. From the strands of hair, that fell so naturally on the sculptures head to the veins on its arms and the texture of cloth on the shirt it was wearing, everything was so expertly carved and fashioned into a one-of-a-kind statue

It took a few hours but soon her work was done. The sun was already setting as she removed her gloves and tidied up her tools. _____ looked over the statue to see if she had missed anything. The statue gleamed in the as the light from the sinking sun hit it. Looking into “Jeonghan’s” eyes, it really almost looked as if he were alive.

"How is the job, _____ dear?" the mayor loudly asked, striding towards her. His vest that was buttoned on top of his large belly looked like it was about to burst. _____ stepped a little farther away to avoid any injuries that involved buttons. "It's alright, sir. Nothing I can't handle."

The mayor nodded and inspected the statue. Several people her age snickered as she stood stiffly beside her employer as he surveyed her work. People loved the statue but nobody was ever enthusiastic about being the one to keep it clean. He pointed at a small spot of dirt on its lips. "You missed a spot."

_____ held in an annoyed sigh as she got up on the statue's pedestal, mumbling about insufficient pay and employers. She reached up and wiped the dirt away with her hands expecting to touch cold marble but instead found the material under her fingertips was soft and warm, not hard and cold the way marble should be.

Like flesh.

A collective gasp was heard throughout the town square as people stopped in their tracks and stared. Holding her shoulders so they both didn't fall off the pedestal was a man who looked exactly like the statue. _____ found herself drowning in his eyes. Something about this guy drew her to him. The man smiled fondly at her and sighed in relief.

“Found you.”

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blue-alien-boi · 3 years

Text

It was silent, he hasn’t heard that in a long time.

Normally he would beg for the noise to stop. Constantly hearing Tommy shout insults and jokes making him pitty his parents, or Tubbo who seemed to be a new talkative person every day, even Wilbur’s insane rants and dramatic songs made him long for ear plugs.

He only now realized how much he missed it. Tommy and him singing along to music disks, Tubbo rambling on about his friends or a bee fact he learned, and Wilbur strumming different notes on his guitar letting out a gleeful shout when he found something he liked.

Hell, he would even take their screams, jokes and taunts, anything to fill the soundless home once full of laughter that now felt so lonely.

His healed boots made a click with every step and the whine of a lever echoed against the walls but it wasn’t nearly as loud as his mind which wouldn’t shut up.

The pride in the clink of swords colliding and the blast of fireworks beginning to provide new memories of victory. The gasps when he stood where Tubbo was, blood on his sword. The screams and shouts of the people who trusted him as the explosions from withers and TNT became deafening. The loudest tho, was the look on their his families.

Looks of anger fueled him, made him feel powerful. looks of fear didn’t phase him, he was used to it. Even looks a betrayal he could ignore, after all it was their fault for trusting him but he couldn’t deal with disappointment.

As he stood where he killed tubbo (again) he saw Wilbur’s face from the remains of his button room. He wore a smile but his eyes showed how he really felt. He was disappointed. Not in himself but in him. Wilbur had needed someone to help him deal with his feelings.

Tommy had tried but he was young and just as emotional. Philza was no where and couldn’t offer his dad advice. He was supposed to help. He was the least emotional but he had experience with losing control. Wilbur needed someone to say it was ok to feel angry, betrayed, and sad. He should have hugged him until he could feel the other fall limp, tired out like a kid. Instead he used his feelings to further his plans.

The look Tubbo gave him wasn’t one of fear or betrayal it was acceptance, a I told you do. This kid was so young and had dealt with so much. There was never a peaceful moment for him, they both knew that.

Even when he stood as the new president his eyes darted around anxious. He had been here before, he knew good things never lasted for him. He should have lt the boy be happy even if it was only going to last for a moment longer. He should have been there letting him enjoy himself or even show him happiness as the world burned. Instead he proved his point, good things don’t last.

Tommy was emotional, his face counld never his what he felt. Complete joy when he played his disks, anger when they fought in the pit, even fear when he talked to a slowly breaking Wilbur. He thought he had witnessed every emotion but that day Tommy showed a new side. Sadness.

Unlike Tubbo he let himself feel happy. He danced, cheered, and even had tears in the corner of his eyes. When he turned and saw techno the tears started to fall. Tommy watched as he stood next to tubbo, weapon in hand. Anyone else would have thought nothing of it, he always carries a weapon and Tubbo was his friend, but Tommy knew better. He had seen this all before.

Time slowed down for Tommy as he shook his head making direct eye contact with him. He saw the remains of joy leave his face, fear setting into his features, anger curling his hands into fists, and sadness. His body trembled but frozen in place as the memories of the festival flashed back. He opened his mouth but only mouthed a single word, please. His eyes had started releasing tears, wanting to look away but he watched. He was no longer a warrior but a sad child who wasn’t ready to face reality. He had to look away but he knew Tommy was still watching and after that day he would never look at him the same way.

Those looks hadn’t left his brain and he doubt they ever would but there was one look or lack of that haunted him. Philza, he didn’t look at him, he looked at a monster.

His eyes were glazed over, despite looking in his direction they looked through him. The land he once heard great stories of now lay rubble under his feet. He held his son with his blood still on his hands as he looked out. He watched as he killed Tubbo and Tommy, his own brother.

Philza looked to him but his gaze didn’t meet his eyes. It looked everywhere but there. He stopped to focause on the blood, eyes trancing over scar he had helped bandage years ago. When he look at him he no longer saw a son but a beast destroying his family.

He shrugged off his boots, hung up his cape, and checked what supplies was left. He nearly smiled seeing that they took his words to heart when he said what’s mine is yours. Their looks replayed in his head and the smile stopped in its tracks.

Exhausted he collapsed on the first soft surface he saw. Not bothering to change out of his clothes that were covered in blood, sweat, and tears.

Tears?

He touched his face. He was crying and he hadn’t known. He wondered when it started and when would it stop. His body wasn’t shaking, his breathing was steady, and his heart felt numb.

He smiled. Maybe because he wanted to feel somthing again, maybe out of a crazed tired, or simply because he remembered the last time he cried. It was when he was a younger, he had gotten in a fight with Tommy or Wilbur over somthing childish.

They didn’t realize how upset he was until he said something that he knew would hurt. He should have remembered what he said but he didn’t or maybe he choose not to. Tommy ran away with Tubbo to their fort and Wilbur wouldn’t leave his room not even playing his guitar. It had been silent.

He had thought things would go back to normal they fought all the time this was no different, but when dinner came around tommy ate at Tubbo’s house and Wilbur ate in his room. He was never good with emotions but he knew he needed to say he was sorry. He got Philza’s help to get all gathered and he stood in front of them silent.

He always had hid him heart under layers of armor and sarcasm but under their gaze he let himself become vulnerable. He said some apology he doesn’t remember but he rememberers the realization he was crying.

He closed his eyes trying to get the tears to stop but instead he felt arms around him and Wilbur’s voice shaking with tears saying he was sorry too. Tommy and Philza joined the hug and he didn’t have to look up to know everyone was crying too. He had never liked hugs but he missed that one.

He open his eyes the warmth from the memory fading, his powerful body was still, eyes took in the blacks stone walls of his base, he felt his clothes coated in dirt, blood, and sweat, and he felt tears slowly collect on his chin.

The crown that was lopsided on his head began sliding off and it fell to the ground with a echoing crash. It rolled in place making a lot of small noises before coming to a dull stop.

Staring at the ceiling he was was still until somthing caught his eye. He laughed and couldn’t stop. He sat up and clutched his stomach shaking with laughter as he looked back up. On the ceiling was writing, even now he couldn’t escape them.

One message was in a silver sharpie saying, I’m dad’s favorite but if he was here he would be proud -Wilby. The second was in a red pen saying, I WUZ HERE. He had taught Tommy that if he wrote that the people couldn’t prove he did it and he used it even since despite using the same red pen which destroys the whole point. The last one was upside down and he had to turn around to see it. It was a drawing of him Tubbo, Tommy, Wilbur, and Philza drawn in a green crayon. It was stick figures but the amount of love in it made up for the lack of artistic skill. Underneath the drawing he say the words, love Tubbo with a B written back words.

Despite all the laughter the tears never stopped and as he calmed down and rolled back around he stared at his crown. Unlike the rest of his clothes it was still clean and shined against the black walls.

He watched as a few of his tears fell on it’s surface. It was made of pure gold but it felt fake. Unaware oh what he was doing he reached for the paper crown his family had made him as a joke. He held the crown close.

He decided he hated the silence wishing he could hear their laughter, rants, even them yelling at him would be better. His brain rotated through the same four looks the same silent sound.

His eyes began to give in as his body and heart begged for rest. His brain normally would pile on thought after worry after regret making it take hours to fall asleep, but this time his mind was as quiet as the rest of the world.

Blood stained his clothes as he lay still. The only proof he was alive were the tears slowly streaming down his face. He had survived with hardly a skratch but something died in him that day. The man powerful and feared was curled in on himself clinging onto a paper crown now covered in tear stains. As he drifted to sleep he heard a familiar guitar softy strum the tune to Melohigh. Warmth surrounded him as he learned into the imaginary hug.

A foolish king who tried to destroy everything and ended up destroying himself, is there a sadder sight?

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strangeradventuresofp · 4 years

Text

second thoughts (legolas x reader)

The Fellowship of the Ring - Part 3

masterlist

warnings: fighting, character death

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

a/n : part 3!!! i have so much fun writing this story and im so glad that i get to continue writing these chapters for you guys. thank you so much to everyone who is reading and showing support, it honestly means so much to me you have no idea. anyway, without further ado, here’s chapter 3! i hope you enjoy<3

“Are we lost?”

“No.”

“I think we are.”

“Shh! Gandalf’s thinking.”

“Merry?”

“What?”

“I’m hungry.” Pippin and Merry whispered between each other. They were sat opposite each other, their voices flowing through the space. Sam was sat up against one of the rocks near Frodo. Gandalf had perched himself upon a rock. He lifted a pipe to and from his lips, blowing out smoke when necessary. You were sat beside Boromir, who was beside Aragorn. Legolas was stood, his back leaned against rock, close to Aragorn.

“I miss home.” You mentioned. Boromir smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you gently into his side.

“After the journey, we will return. We will drink and feast and celebrate. And everything will go back to normal.” He assured and you gave a small smile. Though, you were unsure of whether you wanted that to be your reality when you were to finish the journey. You had quite enjoyed the thought of travelling with Aragorn and then when his time had come… Well, you had not thought that far just yet. Anyway, this was all hypothetical, of course, as it had much started to dawn on you that you might not get the chance to return. Luck had been on your side thus far but for how long would it continue to come to your aid?

Legolas noticed the worried look that fell over your features and his brows drew together, wishing that he could read your mind to know what troubled you. He was about to pull you to the side to ask how you were when Gandalf let out a loud noise.

“It’s that way.” He pointed with his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips as he looked at Frodo who was sat beside him.

“He’s remembered!” Merry said with a grin, pulling the pipe from his lips. He pushed himself to his feet.

Gandalf stood with the aid of his staff. “No, but the air doesn’t smell so foul down here. If in doubt, young Meriadoc, always follow your nose.” He led the way, holding his staff up so that the light exuding from it would reveal more of the path. Legolas held back to walk with you. You smiled at him and he returned it. Each member of the Fellowship stepped down the decreasing concrete.

“Let me risk a little more light.” Gandalf muttered. His staff brightened the way. “Behold, the great realm, the dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf.”

Your lips parted almost immediately in awe, breath drawing from your throat. There were pillars hundreds of feet tall, all so intricately designed and decorated. Somehow amongst the darkness all of the stone seemed to turn from a dull grey to a shimmering silver. Dips and grooves were so perfectly sculpted that it seemed surreal.

“Well, there’s an eyeopener, make no mistake.” Sam said. His eyes were glistening with wonder as well as everyone else’s.

“It’s beautiful.” You whispered. It seemed as if the words were forced from your mouth. There was so much beauty and brilliance in the world that you had yet to see; the sort of the thing that excited you.

It did not excite you for long, however. Once you had been walking for a while again, Gimli paused. His eyes quickly scanned over skeletons leading to a room. He took an audible breath, running into the room. Your eyes widened and you quickly followed him. Your heart ached at the sight of him. His face was stained with more tears, his eyes flooded. His wails were unforgettable. A series of sobs left his lips, his chest heaving up and down as you gently placed a hand on his shoulder. You could feel tears begin to pool in yours eyes. You had not noticed that the others had joined you until the sound of extra footsteps echoed off of the walls.

“Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.” The wizard took a breath. You moved away from Gimli, standing beside Legolas with a small sniffle. “He is dead, then. It is as I feared.” He handed his things to Pippin, delicately moving a skeleton to pick up a dusty book that it had been holding, once. A shiver ran all the way up your spine, your skin prickling in goosebumps. You snapped your head around to look through the door behind you, anxiety growing within your frame.

“I have a bad feeling about this place.” You hissed into the elf’s ear and he nodded, leaning into Aragorn’s ear slightly.

“We must move on. We cannot linger.”

Gandalf turned the page. “They have taken the bridge, and the second hall. We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums. Drums in the deep.” He turned the page. “We cannot get out. Shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming—”

Suddenly a loud noise captivated the attention of everybody. The noise came from beside Pippin, who was stood looking extremely guilty beside a headless body. Before you knew it, the body fell flimsily down the hole beside it and the weight that it was attached to quickly followed. If you wanted not to be noticed then perhaps bringing Pippin along was not the right idea, for the noises echoed loudly around the space. After a little while of silence, Boromir let out an audible breath of relief.

“Fool of a took!” Gandalf snapped, tossing the book to the floor. “Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity.” He snatched back his staff and hat and Pippin looked to the floor.

There was a faint bang in the distance. If anyone’s eyes had wondered, they were now firmly back on the hobbit. Breathing was audible from everyone in the room. You looked worriedly at Boromir, he, too, looked anxious. Your breath quickened, turning around to face the door but turning back when Sam spoke.

“Mister Frodo…” At his words, Frodo pulled out his sword which was glowing blue. Your eyes widened at the sight. He had told you before that his Uncle Bilbo had gifted it to him before he left Rivendell. It glowed blue if there were—

“Orcs.” Legolas confirmed at the overwhelming sound of energetic screams and shouts. Boromir turned, running to the door.

“Boromir!” You warned, gasping sharply when two arrows landed not even an inch away from his face, protruding out from the door. Sprinting to him, you helped him shove the door closed. You could make out Aragorn saying something to the hobbits over the vicious pumping of your heart. Instinctively you turned your back to the door, holding it shut whilst Legolas threw an axe to you. It threaded through the handle of the door kindly and you stepped away from the door slowly, pulling out your knives. The door began to wave outwards and inwards, like it was victim to an angry storm. Weapons were cutting through the wood at speed and soon enough the doors caved to the Orcs’ will. They came flooding through the space like they were on a water current. Legolas and Aragorn shot their arrows but there were too many. They continued to pour through until they reached you.

With a roar, you brought your knife up to counter a sword, plunging your other into the face of your attacker. You dodged an oncoming axe, dropping the floor to swipe its legs before heaving its own weapon into its chest. Swiftly you sliced through the flesh of one’s neck, spinning to punch another before you stabbed it in the heart; if they had hearts, that is, you did not really know. Your fingers tightened around the hilts of your knives, searching around. You quickly sheathed your knives, picking up an axe from one of those that you just killed. As you made for one about to attack Boromir from behind, you swung the axe over your head, burying it deep inside its skull. The body fell to its knees and you struggled to pull the weapon out, forcefully kicking the body to release the axe. Shouting, swinging at one’s knees before slicing its head clean from its body.

You shielded your face as rocks came flying from where the door was once. Sheer horror smacked you in the face at the sight of a cave troll. It had chains around its neck and a huge mallet in its hand. It came bounding right up to Sam after Legolas shot an arrow into the centre of its chest.

“Sam!” You cried, breathing as he managed to crawl out of the way. When you turned around, an Orc landed a punch straight to your nose. You fell, startled, wincing slightly at the pain. Your eyes widened as it swung its axe towards your head. With barely inches between you and the blade, you managed to roll out of the way. Suddenly the Orc let out a cry of pain, and you used the opportunity to ram your knives into each of its legs before pulling one out and driving it into its chest. When it fell to the floor, you managed to take a quick glance at the body. There was an arrow sticking out of the fleshy part of the side. A small smile tugged on your lips amongst the madness, your eyes searching.

Your smile faded when your gaze landed on Legolas. The troll swung its chain at him with ferocity, causing rocks to fall from the pillars and the walls.

“Legolas!” You screamed his name, tears in your eyes. He managed to swerve from all of the troll’s attacks. You did not see much of what happened next, for the number of Orcs seemed to increase again, but you cut down all of the Orcs that came your way with much frustration, the tears of worry in your eyes turning to those of anger.

When you next got a chance to look at the troll, it was attacking Frodo, Merry and Pippin. You began to make your way towards them, lunging at each creature that came to attack you, carving into their skin as if they were meat for dinner. The cave troll grabbed Frodo by his foot, and you called to him, raising the aggressiveness of your attacks unintentionally, frustration consuming your entire body. Frodo managed to slice something from the hand of the troll, giving Aragorn the chance to stick a spear just under its breast. It smacked Aragorn to the side and he hit a rock before his body tumbled lifelessly to the floor. Frodo desperately tried to run around the troll but to no avail. The troll pushed the spear into the hobbits chest.

A sob was forced from your throat, your chest heaving for breath. Merry and Pippin jumped on the troll, stabbing at its neck relentlessly. It managed to shake Merry off, dropping him to the floor from a height. Gimli ran at it, attempting to smack it with his axe but got kicked to the side. As you screamed, your knives tore and shredded through its thick skin. You swung an axe from the ground up to land firmly in the back of it. Legolas drew an arrow, aiming carefully before shooting it. The arrow buried itself in its mouth. It let out a noise. Then it fell to the ground, spreading the dust over the other bodies that lay there.

It took you no time at all to run to where Frodo’s and Aragorn’s bodies were. A few tears fell down your cheeks while you sprinted. You sighed in relief to see Aragorn crawling toward the hobbits body, but you frowned, noticing that Frodo still had not moved. The lump in your throat grew. Your breathing felt restricted, a small sob falling from your lips. Aragorn rolled Frodo’s body over into his lap.

A series of groans came from the mouth of the hobbit and your eyes widened, thinking that your ears had deceived you. The hobbit was stabbed, surely, he was dead! But Sam ran to your side, taking a deep breath before he looked to the rest of the Fellowship.

“He’s alive.” He confirmed. Everyone seemed to breathe at that.

“I’m alright. I’m not hurt.” Said Frodo, clutching his chest.

You smiled. “But how?”

“I think there is more to this hobbit than meets the eye,” Gandalf suggested with a knowing look. When you looked back towards Frodo, he pulled the fabric of his undershirt down, revealing a glimmering white chainmail material.

“Mithril.” Gimli whispered, a smile on his face. “You are full of surprises, Master Baggins.” Y stood, laughing breathily before turning to those behind you. Your gaze landed on Boromir and you smiled, wiping a bit of blood from his cheek comically. He chuckled, engulfing you in a hug. He gently pressed his lips to your to the top of your head and you smiled. Boromir left you to check on Merry and Pippin and you turned to Legolas, smiling.

“I was worried for you, mellon nin.” You avoided his gaze.

“And I for you.” He said. You could hear the smile on his face when he spoke, and your smile widened. You were about to say something else when more manic screams and shouts were heard, identical to the ones that were heard before the Orcs attacked you. Your eyes widened, turning to Gandalf.

“To the bridge of Khazad-Dum.”

And with that the Fellowship took off down the stony halls of Moria. You were all sprinting at full speed. It was a little surprising that the hobbits could keep up, but they had proven many times by now that they could hold their own and should never be underestimated. Screams echoed behind you and you turned to look, slowing when you noticed how many Orcs there were. This was a battle you were destined to lose. Fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist and you snapped your head forward again to see Boromir holding to you with one of his arms, pulling you along. Orcs started to pop up out of the floor and crawl down from the ceiling and quite quickly it was easy to see that there were way too many of them to even fathom fighting. The Fellowship slowed to a stop and you created a circle, pulling your knives from their sheaths and staring down the Orcs that surrounded you. The circle seemed to get smaller and smaller and soon you were shoulder to shoulder with Legolas and Boromir. The Orcs smiled maniacally at you. You took a sharp breath, ready to lunge at them when a very loud rumbling noise came from the end of the corridor.

Immediately, the Orcs turned frail, squeaking with fear and soon they scattered off just as quickly as they had appeared. You were alone again. The noise reverberated through the halls.

“What is that?” Somehow you had the nerve to ask the question.

“A Balrog. A demon of the ancient world.” You watched Legolas’ eyes widen slightly at the wizard’s words and you swallowed dryly. “This foe is beyond any of you. Run!”

Gandalf made for the opening that you had all meant to go down originally, the rest of you darting to the end of the hall to keep up with him. He stopped at the open archway, allowing the others in front of him. You ran just behind Legolas and Boromir was now leading the way. He moved down the newly presented set of stairs, not noticing the empty chasm that lay before his feet. He wobbled on the very edge, dropping his torch down the space as Legolas lunged forward, wrapped his arms around his chest and pulled him back.

Behind you, Gandalf clutched hold of Aragorn’s shoulder. “Lead them on, Aragorn. The bridge is near.” When Aragorn tried to help him, he pushed on his shoulder, forcing him away. “Do as I say! Swords are no more use here.” You raced down the numerous flights of stone stairs until you came to a halt. A part of the staircase was missing. Legolas jumped over it carelessly, landing perfectly on the other side. He held his hand out to you. You took a breath before leaping over the disparity, grabbing his hand tightly as he safely pulled you into his chest.

“Gandalf.” He gestured for the wizard to come next. Gandalf jumped and you gasped as an arrow missed your face by just a few inches. Legolas frowned, aiming and shooting, his arrow hitting the Orc archer right between the eyes. You ushered Boromir down and he nodded, grabbing Merry and Pippin before diving over the gaping chasm. You caught Merry in your arms, setting him down with a head pat before Aragorn tossed Sam to you. Catching him, you gently set him down beside Merry whilst Legolas dealt with Gimli. Once Gimli joined you, however, the rock that Frodo and Aragorn were still perched on began to crumble. You gasped, squeezing Boromir’s hand in anxiety as you watched. A huge roar echoed from where you had just come from, causing the archway to shake and break. A large piece of stone plunged from the ceiling, crashing down onto the very staircase that the man and the hobbit were situated on. Your heart stuttered as the rock destroyed what was in its way, falling into the abyss below. The stem of the staircase broke.

“Be careful!” You cried, biting your lip so hard it pooled with blood. Aragorn pulled a very terrified Frodo into his chest. You watched with complete anxiety yet confusion; you could see that the man was calculating something.

“Lean forward!” He instructed to the Ring-Bearer and as the two did so, the faulty staircase began to lean under their weight. Slowly, it moved towards the stable one, crashing into it and you let out a breath with Frodo in your arms. All you wanted was to sit and hug him and make sure that he knew everything was going to be alright – even though you weren’t entirely sure it would be – but you knew that could not happen. Legolas had safely caught Aragorn and the next thing you knew, the ten of you were rapidly rushing down the numerous flights of trembling stairs.

Eventually you got to flat ground but none of you stopped running. Your thoughts wandered to Gandalf, wondering if it was wise that he should be running like this, for it seemed he was far too tired even earlier.

The bridge was near. “Over the bridge! Fly!” Little attention was paid to the roaring fires acting as gates toward it. Whilst everyone ran, Gandalf made sure to lack behind and just as he turned around, slowly, a giant creature emerged from the fire. It had black tattered skin and horns, terrible teeth and bright white eyes. Its mouth opened, and it created sound unlike any other on Middle-Earth, its mouth mirroring hot embers. Gandalf turned once it had taken a step, fleeing towards the group of you who also began to scurry away from the creature. You sprinted, heart jolting each time you heard – and felt – the Balrog take a step. In single file, ushering the hobbits in front of you, you crossed the bridge. Boromir held you for a moment once you had crossed, making sure that you were alright before he let go, eyes widening at the sight of Gandalf still in the centre of the bridge.

“You cannot pass.” Gandalf yelled, facing the beast with his staff out in front of him, his long sword settled in his other hand.

“Gandalf!” Frodo screamed. You inhaled sharply, eyes filling with tears in worry. Aragorn squeezed your hand gently as the beast stood tall, erupting into a ball of flame.

“I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun!” A great light emitted from Gandalf’s staff when he held it up, but the Balrog created a weapon of his own. A flash of lightning spewed from the connection of Gandalf’s staff and the Balrog’s sword of flame. You grasped Aragorn’s hand tighter, feeling all of the moisture from your mouth dissipate. The sword melted down into the abyss and the creature moaned ferociously at the wizard once again. “Go back to the shadow.” He said behind hooded eyes. It stepped toward him, creating a fiery whip which he cracked against the stone.

“You shall not pass!” As his voice echoed, Gandalf thrust his staff into the stone, white sparks flying from the collision. The beast raised his arm, stepping mightily towards to wizard, but the stone crumbled under its weight. He plummeted into the abyss. You let out a breath you did not know you were holding. Gandalf turned to step towards you.

However, as he did so, an orange-yellow string secured itself around his ankle, pulling him across the stone until he barely hung from the edge.

You gasped, shaking your head incredulously. “No…” Frodo ran for him. Boromir grabbed him, holding him close before he could reach. Your eyes were wide with anguish, Frodo’s screams painfully ringing in your ears.

“Gandalf!”

He looked amongst you. “Fly, you fools.” Was all he said before he spread his fingers out, giving in, and he fell. Tears pooled in your eyes, an aching sensation pounding in your chest, throughout your entire body. A few choked sobs escaped you whilst Aragorn, still latched to your hand, pulled you along, shielding you from the many arrows that were being shot your way. The final set of steps lay in front of you, and as Aragorn gently dragged you along, you found yourself looking back, filled with a sorrow that everyone was experiencing.

Upon exiting Moria, you found that Boromir was holding back Gimli, from going in there and no doubt trying to murder the Balrog that had taken Gandalf. Sam was sat on his own, crying into his hand. Pippin was sprawled out on the floor in pain, Merry holding onto him, both of them with tears gushing down their faces. If your heart was not already broken from the loss, it certainly was shattered now from the melancholy faces that lay before you. Slowly, you made your way over to Sam, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder as you knelt beside him. He looked up and threw his arms around your body, sobbing silently into your shoulder. You closed your eyes, tears streaming, hugging him as tightly while he clung to you.

Legolas looked around, it seemed as if for the first time that he was unsure of what to do. His chest ached, even harder when his eyes landed upon you, and how you quickly swiped your tears away before talking to Sam, wanting to be strong for him and the other hobbits.

Aragorn cleaned his sword with his clothes. “Legolas, get them up.” He came close to you and Sam and you shook your head gently.

“Leave them.” You sniffed.

“Give them a moment, for pity’s sake!”

“By nightfall, these hills will be swarming with Orcs. We must reach the Woods of Lothlorien. Come Boromir. Y/N, Legolas, Gimli, get them up.” Aragorn pulled Sam up from the floor. “On your feet.” Boromir made his over to you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulder. You smiled weakly at him, and he kissed your temple softly. “Frodo?” You heard Aragorn call, your eyes wandering to try to find the hobbit. Once you had found him, you sighed.

“It is hardly fair, that they do not get a chance to lament.”

“I know, but Aragorn is right. We must hurry to avoid the Orcs and another potential loss.” You nodded and Boromir’s words, hugging into his side, your eyes never leaving Frodo.

~~~

You had all been walking for a long while, but it was still light. You had been walking beside Aragorn, listening to him talk away about where we going and then after that and after that. It was not until he mentioned again where you were going now, that a faint memory flooded into your head. Your brows furrowed together whilst you tried to remember the details of the memory.

“What is it, Y/N?” Aragorn asked, concerned.

“Lothlorien. It sounds familiar.” You gave him a knowing look and his eyes widened, only slightly, in surprise. You both knew what that could mean. Legolas, however, did not, but he wanted to. He felt awful for eavesdropping yet again, but you intrigued him more than one ever had before, and his curiousness was getting the better of him.

Aragorn started to jog toward the forest, and you joined him, stopping once you were inside. Your eyes widened when you looked around, your breathing staggering only slightly, your heart thumping in your chest.

“Aragorn,” you whispered. “I have been here before.”

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cicada-bones · 3 years

Text

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 34: Celebration

Just a warning, this one got wayyyy more angsty than I was originally expecting.

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Rowan’s footsteps were light as he padded through the mist-shrouded trees, Aelin by his side. The winds told him that Gavriel was now long gone, having shifted into his lion and headed off back to Doranelle.

Rowan had heard Gavriel’s last words, though they had barely been a brush at his back. “Good luck Rowan.” And he knew that he should’ve said something in return, should’ve said goodbye. But he hadn’t. Gavriel had nearly let Aelin die for them, and that wasn’t something Rowan could soon overlook.

That morning, he had asked Aelin about what happened. Actually, he had practically forced the information out of her. Eventually, she told him that only Gavriel had hesitated before running into the castle. That everyone else had just ran past her.

Then, Aelin had insisted on leaving Mistward, even though she should definitely still be in bed. Her muscles seemed strong, but her breaths were uneven, and every now and then, her hands seemed to tremble slightly.

Rowan cast Aelin a sidelong look as she hesitated before mounting a fallen tree. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Rowan just sighed, and continued to lead her through the undergrowth. He probably couldn’t have kept her inside even if she had been falling over her own feet.

Though this diversion was against his wishes, he was just a little bit excited to show Aelin this place. He had come across it on one of his many flights through the mountains – a secluded pool, fed by a small waterfall, surrounded by flat, sun-warmed rocks.

He heard a small sigh dance through Aelin’s lips as they breached through the final line of trees and the pool came into view. The corners of his mouth twitched. The pool was even more beautiful than he remembered – it was lit up with shafts of golden light, and the sounds of bird calls echoed in the trees above, joining the tumble of the waterfall.

Rowan sat on a warm, flat stone, pulled off his boots, and rolled up his pants to dip his feet in the water. The mountain stream-fed pool was delectably cool in the summer sun.

Aelin moved to sit beside him, her face scrunched tight to hold in the groans she obviously wanted to set loose.

Rowan was frowning, but once Aelin spotted the disapproval written on his face, she just gave him a look that clearly was daring him to order her back to bedrest. Rowan had to hold in another sigh.

A few moments passed as Aelin rolled up her own clothes and dipped her feet into the water, her gaze searching up through the oaks to find the source of the birdsong.

Pain lined her face, exhaustion darkening the bags underneath her eyes. Aelin was hurting, no matter how much she wanted to hide it from him. She was hurting because of the King of Adarlan.

Rowan’s voice was quiet, but clear. “There is no undoing what happened with Narrok. Once the world hears that Aelin Galathynius fought against Adarlan, they will know you are alive. He will know you are alive, and where you are, and that you do not plan to cower. He will hunt you for the rest of your life.”

Aelin’s face didn’t change. “I accepted that fate from the moment I stepped outside the barrier.” She kicked at the water, causing an avalanche of ripples to echo across the pool. But the small movement also made her hiss in discomfort, her jaw tight with pain.

Rowan silently handed her the skein of pain-killing tonic, knowing that it was useless to ask her to head back to Mistward to rest. As she drank, Rowan could see her muscles relaxing, her soul seeming to sigh in relief.

They sat in silence for a time, letting the forest pool calm their whirring thoughts. It was nice to let go of the worry that had been so all-consuming these past days, to have a moment of peace together, where the past and the future didn’t feel so close.

But then, Aelin gasped.

Her eyes turned inward, and she no longer seemed entirely present. No longer aware of anything other than whatever revelation she was experiencing.

Rowan waited, hoping for explanations to spring unprompted from her lips. But as the seconds passed and she remained silent and unseeing, fear began to course through Rowan.

“What is it?” he asked.

“The third Wyrdkey – ” Aelin swore, breaking off.

“Aelin.” Rowan could hear the fear and hurt in his own voice. “Tell me what you learned.”

Her lips tightened. “Not while you are bound to her.”

“I am bound to her forever.”

“I know.” With that small phrase, Aelin shrouded the bright pool in gray, pulling the future back into their small moment of peace.

Rowan leaned over his knees, dipping his hands into the pool. “You’re right. I don’t want you to tell me. Any of it.”

“I hate that,” she breathed. “I hate her.”

Rowan’s jaw clenched, and he tried to not hear those words, or at least, tried not to remember them. They would only be another weapon Maeve could use against her. Instead he looked over at Goldryn, at the only weapon he could give her to help her. At the only thing that might keep her safe.

That morning, over breakfast, Aelin had explained the sword’s history to him. She had figured it out, had found the ring, and knew who it belonged to. She had pieced together the truth hidden in Emrys’ stories.

What was yet to be known was whether or not she would be able to use it to her advantage.

Silence built between them, like sheets of water, or clouds of mist. But then, Aelin broke it. “I have never told anyone this story. No one in the world knows it. But it’s mine,” she blinked furiously, sadness filling her scent, “and it’s time for me to tell it.”

Rowan leaned back on the rock, bracing his palms behind him. She couldn’t tell him whatever she had learned about the Wyrdkey, and though it hurt, he understood. So instead, she was giving him what she could – her story. The truth of her.

“Once upon a time,” Aelin said softly, her voice as light as the wind itself, “in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom…very much.”

She told him everything. Everything that she had withheld, all the things in her past that she had not been able to face. And how the creatures, the Valg demons, had forced her to confront them.

Aelin told him of growing up in Terrasen, held fast in the wings of a mighty kingdom. Told him of a heart that was told to burn more softly. She told him of loneliness, and fear. But also of love.

And then, the pain of losing it all. Of waking up soaking wet in the blood of her parents. Of running, of hiding, and the indescribable horror of being found.

Aelin told him of the sacrifice of Lady Marion.

Of running through the snow and diving into the icy river. And of being saved, by the most unlikely person imaginable.

Aelin’s words were a gift given on golden hands. She gave Rowan her story freely and openly, without hesitation or any misgivings. She smiled, and laughed, and cried. And when the tears began to overflow, Rowan wiped them off her cheeks.

When she finished, Rowan merely passed Aelin more of the tonic. She smiled at him, sad but true. And Rowan felt those final whispers of that iron cage fall away into mist. Her magic swirled around them, tendrils of power pulsing in the sun-warmed air.

Rowan had kept his vow; Aelin was finally free.

He smiled back at her.

After a moment, Aelin held out her hand, her palm open over the still pool. And slowly, a droplet of water the size of a marble rose from the surface and into her waiting fingers.

Rowan smiled wider. “No wonder your sense of self-preservation is so pathetic, if that’s all the water you can conjure.”

He flicked her chin, and she grinned at him through her falling tears, sending the droplet splashing onto his face.

Rowan tossed her into the pool. A moment later, laughing, he jumped in himself.

···

A week passed, in toil and in celebration, and during that time, Aelin began to heal. But it was more than that – a weight was taken off of her shoulders. Her eyes were brighter, her limbs quicker, her steps lighter. And she was more beautiful than ever before.

That night, now that most of the demi-Fae had recovered, and grieved for their dead, Emrys was hosting a celebration. There would be food, drinks, fire, and dancing, and while Rowan wasn’t particularly thrilled about going himself, it was nice to see everyone in Mistward looking forwards to something. Especially Aelin.

What it really revealed to him was just how fond he had become of the small fortress and all of its residents. People for whom he had been indifferent to at best, had suddenly become as dear to him as the Fae he was closest to in Doranelle. Closer, even.

Emrys and Malakai and Luca had become significant figures in his life, no matter how strange that was to admit to himself. And seeing the three of them look at each other with joy in their eyes again, a family once more, warmed Rowan’s icy heart.

Emrys placed the feast on rickety wooden tables in the field where they had celebrated Beltane, those short weeks ago, and demi-Fae got to work arranging bonfires, ale, and music for the coming festivities.

Rowan and Aelin walked together up to the meadow, in companionable silence. Aelin was wearing a loose cotton dress that Rowan had never seen her in before. It didn’t fit her particularly well – loose in places and tight in others, probably borrowed. But it looked like it had been spun by pure sunlight.

The gown was simple, everyday. As she walked, the fabric shifted to reveal her common leather boots. But it also was cut to reveal the whole spread of her shoulders, framing her delicate collarbones beautifully. She looked like a shaft of gold hidden beneath the green tree boughs.

Rowan knew that Aelin had less than no interest in him in that way. But it was almost as though she had worn the dress to torment him specifically.

As they approached the field, music wafted to them on the air, and Aelin began to speed up her pace, until she was almost running through the trees, her golden hair wild and loose on the wind. She laughed, the sound wrapped in delight.

Aelin danced that night, and for the first time, Rowan felt he truly understood why she had been chosen as the Heir of Fire. It was because she was flame itself –bright and twisting and whirling and free. Wildness incarnate, touched by Mala herself.

She danced all through the darkness, her feet lighter than air as they floated over the ground. Often she had partners, but most of the time she was alone, spinning before fires of her own making. Flames filled with colors that Rowan wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before.

And then, late into the night, Aelin looked over to where he stood in the shadows, and their eyes met. And all of a sudden he knew. Her face was filled with that wild joy, her turquoise eyes framed with liquid gold, and he just knew.

Rowan loved her.

He had run into the Valg darkness because he was in love with her.

The newly-formed bond in his chest almost seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, relaxing into that love. But what immediately followed after was grief. Grief, and a fear so strong that Rowan found himself turning away from Aelin and walking back over to the other side of the clearing.

Soon though, very soon, Rowan found himself wishing that he had stayed where he was. For through the sleepy crowd, Rowan could just hear the voices of Emrys and Malakai having a quiet, though strained, discussion about…him.

“I talked with the sentries who were atop the battlements that night, and they told me that it was all true, they are carranam.” Malakai said.

Emrys’ voice was so soft as to be almost unintelligible. “Really? Even now, it’s so hard to believe…”

“It is the only way they could have defeated those creatures.”

“And Elentiya, a fire-user. I knew that she had to be powerful, what with the Queen coming to see her and all. But her mother had water magic, so I never thought – ”

“I know.” Malakai turned to look at the princess, who was currently hand in hand with a young female, as they laughed and twirled around a bonfire that was pulsing bright blue. “We owe her all our lives.”

“We owe both of them our lives. The Prince also.”

The old commander nodded. “Yes, and not only for destroying those demons. If his friends had not come…I’m not sure we would have survived the soldiers’ onslaught.”

Emrys nodded, his eyes downcast. “Still, I am worried, love. It almost feels as though ever since the second those two came to Mistward I’ve been worried for them.”

“They will likely leave soon, and then your worries can cease.”

Emrys’ jaw clenched. “If only. I can only imagine what they will be walking into when they leave here for Doranelle.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it, love.”

Emrys shook his head, his eyes far away. “She’s so young. And he is old.”

Malakai nodded, his eyes tight.

“And he is bound to her.”

Another nod.

“And I can’t help but think…that those soldiers were sent here for more than just an attack on the fortress. It can’t be a coincidence that she was here, Adarlan’s greatest enemy, when Adarlan attacked.”

Malakai pursed his lips, but remained quiet. Emrys sighed.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop. Would you like…”

Rowan stopped listening, heading deeper into the crowd. Unable to stop the falling sensation that nearly rendered him dizzy.

They were right. Though this time, the reminder cut into him like a knife. There was nothing he could offer her, nothing but more chains. And never before had that felt like such a tragedy.

Rowan loved her, and she would never know. And even if they lived through the next few days, he would never see her again. He loved her, but it was a love doomed to loss. Perhaps it was no more than he deserved, to love again, only for it to be taken away. No more than he deserved for allowing his mate to die.

Rowan walked out into the trees, turning away from the golden festival behind him, his vision just beginning to blur. He shifted, then flew out into the night, his tears becoming streaks of silver in the moonlight. His hawk wheeled around, heading back towards the meadow. Where Rowan caught one last glimpse of the golden princess, dancing wild and free, before soaring off into the mountains beyond.

···

Fenrys knelt. Beside his brother and fellow commanders. Before the queen who held his heart in her iron fist. He bowed his wolf’s head, his nose brushing the stones. Maeve smiled.

“I see you have returned from your ill-begotten journey.” The smile twisted, becoming a blade. “And you have brought Lorcan and Vaughan back with you. All the better.”

Her midnight gown shifted as she re-crossed her legs, delicate ankles peeking below the layers of chiffon. For a moment, Maeve just looked at them, and the air crackled with invisible tension. The desperation of the last breath beneath the guillotine blade.

Even from across the throne room, Fenrys could feel the dark Queen’s excitement. She reveled in her power over them. And for her, the anticipation was every bit as delectable as the feast.

“Of course, the sentries who were on duty that afternoon have all been disposed of.” Maeve studied her nails, casual as anything. “I would be unable to trust them to carry out their duties after such an egregious lapse.” Fenrys could have sworn her eyes flicked over to Gavriel and back again, her lips twitching.

The male was rigid. His every muscle taut. The waves of grief and guilt that pulsed from him were almost overpowering.

The weight in Fenrys’ gut solidified. Something was different this time around – something was sharper. More immediate, and intense. Maeve wasn’t reacting the way he had expected.

Fenrys’ paws slid over the stone as he shifted slightly, his wolf’s nails clacking lightly on the granite.

Maeve’s eyes met his. “I might have expected as much from you, Fenrys. Always pulling at the leash. You would leap at the chance to leave Doranelle. Even if it were only to escape my clutches for a few hours.” She leaned forwards, a cold laugh twisting her cheeks. “Betraying me was just a convenient bonus.”

Lorcan flinched. Though still, none of them spoke a word.

“But you, Connall. You, I was surprised about.” Maeve’s voice lilted in all the right places, her eyes promising violence. And delighting in that promise. Fenrys’ hackles began to rise, fury pooling in his gut. Fury at his own inability to do anything to prevent whatever was coming for them.

“I knew you cared for Rowan, knew you looked up to him. But to choose him, over me? Over your Queen?” A careful pause. “Obviously, I miscalculated.”

Then her gaze landed on Lorcan. And it was like she dealt him a physical blow, solely with the tilt of her head, the flicker of a frown. Lorcan nearly crumpled to his knees. His black eyes swum with pleading, with prayers, with that dark love of his.

Bile rose in Fenrys’ throat.

“And you. My second.” A pause where she carefully looked Lorcan up and down. Pure malice, undiluted and visceral, smearing over him in that look. “Lorcan Salvaterre.” The male tensed, and his silent pleas dropped from his lips with a nearly audible clink.

“Stand. And explain yourself.”

His commander got slowly to his feet, carefully putting one foot in front of the other. His gaze was fixed on the pale white stone of Maeve’s throne as he began to speak.

“We were halfway between the sea and the mountains when the letter reached us. I had caught up with Vaughn earlier that day, and we decided to stay at an inn for the night.” A jut of his chin. “Rowan made it clear in his letter that if we did not come to his aid, he, and everyone within Mistward, was going to die. So we went.”

“Just like that?” An arch of a sculpted brow.

Lorcan slowly nodded.

“Did you not consider, that had I deemed it necessary to assist the demi-Fae, I would have dispatched you myself?” Feigned innocence dripped from her words like poisoned honey. “Or did you in fact think me unaware of their plight?”

Lorcan only breathed, slow and steady, his lips tightly pursed.

Maeve’s eyes narrowed as she read the defiance there. “Evidently not. What happened once you arrived?”

A short swallow. “It took us all night to reach Mistward. At some point, we met up with Gavriel, Fenrys, and Connall. But once we got to the valley on the mountainside, it was already swathed in shadow. Four creatures were guarding the entrance, and attacking the fortress’ wards with dark magic. I attacked it with my own, but it did nothing. Whatever those creatures are, they are not of this world.”

Fenrys watched Maeve’s face closely, searching for any indication of recognition there. He found none, though her features were carefully schooled into blankness. He felt his own eyes narrow.

“Then, a golden light pierced through the veil of black, creating a bridge to let us through. A bridge made by Aelin Galathynius.”

This time, Fenrys saw a flicker of something akin to fear flash in the dark Queen’s eyes. Fear, and desire. What did the princess really mean to his Queen?

Still, Maeve kept silent, waiting for some unknown cue.

Lorcan swallowed once again, his face darkening. “We easily overpowered the soldiers in the tunnels, and Rowan ran back to join Aelin before the front gates. And together, they destroyed the creatures.”

Maeve’s eyes narrowed into deadly slits. “How?”

A shallow breath. Fenrys felt as the blood oath pulled at Lorcan’s soul, putting it under the edge of a knife-blade. “They – they are carranam.” Another breath. “Rowan gave Aelin his power, and she used it to melt the creatures from the inside out.”

Maeve leaned back into her throne, her features becoming contemplative. “Carranam. I see…” Her gaze danced over the ceiling, seemingly piecing together bits of information. “Hmm. And after?”

Lorcan’s words came easier now. “Only fifteen demi-Fae were lost. We put the surviving Adarlanian soldiers in the dungeons, but they took poison rather than risk being interrogated. Both Aelin Galathynius and Rowan survived without undue injuries.”

“And soon, they will return to Doranelle?”

Lorcan nodded.

“Good. Well then!” Maeve clapped her hands sharply, and a dark figure appeared from the hallway behind her throne. “Time to get on with it. Cairn – ” Fenrys’ stomach twisted violently, “ – why don’t you hand those over to Fenrys and Gavriel. Fenrys, shift.”

Fenrys felt as his body transformed without him asking it to, obeying his Queen’s every wish. He watched his paws become hands, felt clothes wrap over skin, all the while feeling very far away.

Cairn handed him an iron tipped whip with a smile, and Fenrys took it.

Maeve’s eyes met his, and Fenrys felt dread coating every one of his nerve endings. That was a look he understood. He knew it as intimately as anything. That face graced every one of his nightmares.

“Fenrys,” Maeve said delicately, “Stand behind Connall.”

There was an agony-filled second where Fenrys locked his muscles. Where he refused to move a single inch. It felt as though his soul was being slowly shredded by a grater.

Maeve’s smile widened, and the grating becoming a searing, ripping, furious agony – and he was walking, foot over foot, to stand behind his brother. But the pain did not go away.

Fenrys wasn’t really listening, but he sensed as Gavriel moved to stand behind Vaughn, and Cairn behind Lorcan. Watched as three silver tunics dropped onto the stones, one by one by one. Watched the bare flesh of their arched backs pebble in the chill air.

Fenrys knew what was coming. But that did not make it any easier to do. Only easier to keep silent, and still. As if the quiet could make it not real. As if it could help them all pretend it wasn’t happening.

There was a ruffle of silk as Maeve leaned back into her throne. “I command you all to continue until I say otherwise. Cairn – count the lashes.”

Fenrys retreated into the darkest, quietest part of his mind as his right arm raised automatically, preparing to strike. Preparing for the iron tipped whip to rent the flesh of his brother. The only person he truly cared for in all the world.

Connall was stiller than death.

Fenrys sensed, rather than saw, the vile sneer on Cairn’s face as he raised his own whip, and said, “One.”

Fenrys’ last thought before the iron descended was of the princess. And of the horrors that awaited her in the City of the Rivers.

···

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