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nerdybubblebee · 6 years

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Flowers for Papa

For Jonerys Week Day 1: Home & Family

Summary: For so long, it’s always been Jon who brought her flowers but this time, Dany decides that it should be her turn. While Jon is on his way home, she prepares his welcome home surprise and requires some help. Thankfully, three young Targaryens are more than eager to lend her a hand in laying out the finishing touches to welcome their papa home.

Part 6 of my Flowers for His Queen series. This can be read on Ao3 too~

Mood board once again created in collaboration with @midqueenally. Never could have done it without your help hehe. Thank you, Iris :)

I hope you guys like this! XD Enjoy~

It was yet another peaceful day in Kings Landing. The sun was shining with nought a cloud in the sky. In the nursery of the Red Keep, the three Targaryen children were enjoying a quiet afternoon of play with their babysitter for the day while their mother took some time to plan a welcome home surprise for her husband’s return from his trip to the North. It was the first time he’s left his family since the twins were born and to be away for two whole weeks, his family missed him dearly.

“This is a lion.” Aedon’s chubby hands held up a wooden lion figurine, one of ten hand whittled wooden animals by their father’s advisor and friend, Ser Davos, for the twins’ second birthday. Grinning, Aedon offered it to their uncle who lounged upon the chaise by the window of the nursery, his usual goblet of wine in hand.

Patting the child on the cheek, the queen’s trusted hand nodded, his voice a bit slurry from his drink. “Yes. You are quite right. That is a lion.”

With a huff the child toddled off the find his family’s direwolf guardian to show off his toys to. Little feet took Aedon over to the wolf, lying beside his big sister. It’s watchful red ruby eyes temporarily hidden from view as he rested. His bushy tail occasionally flicking and thumping against the stone floor as he rested. His ears twitched slightly hearing the little boy’s not so sneaky approach.

“Ghost, look at what I got!” The boy stood on tip toes, stretching his arm up as high as he could, brandishing the toy by the wolf’s snout. The direwolf opened his eyes and sniffed at the boy’s hand before sticking out his tongue, giving Aedon’s face a good licking. “Ghost!” The child squealed, dropping the figurine. His tiny hands now free, clenched into fists by his head, clutching at the white strands of fur as he hid his face in the wolf’s side, trying in vain to avoid the sloppy kisses. The wolf diverted the kisses to the boy’s mop of curly silver hair, styling it into whorls of cowlicks.

The eldest of the three Targaryen children was absorbed in coloring a piece of art she had drawn of their dragons soaring over the ocean that ran the fringe of the capital they called home. “Like dragons and wolves, lions are known to be fearsome. Quite like you, uncle Tyrion!” Elwynn perked up from her coloring. Her bare feet kicking in the air as she lay on her belly.

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself fearsome.” The tiny imp fearsome? Tyrion touched the scar that ran down his face. Most people would argue against that for sure, call him a coward more than anything. Although, these days he couldn’t care less for the opinions of others who didn’t matter to him. “But thank you dear child for thinking so. I must admit I do have some fine moments of bravery.” Those who he could now call his friends mattered and they accepted him for who he was, for his wisdom and capabilities. After so long, he finally felt accepted surrounded by the right company.

The princess grinned a toothy grin at him. These young ones were some of those who mattered to him. Children were innocent. They held not a trace of judgement towards anyone they met. Everyone was a person, an equal who deserved kindness. Children spoke their minds, with a frankness that was so refreshing, providing a short reprieve from having to put up appearances and plot schemes. Spending time with these three toddlers also filled a bit of the void that his family had left behind.

Arielle tugged at his sleeve from her seated position on the carpet, her book of children stories sliding from her lap as she moved to sit on her feet. She hadn’t learn all of her letters yet to read a whole book on her own yet but she loved to look at the pictures of dragons, brave warrior knights and princesses atop of towers. “What are you drinking?”

“Wine, little dragon.” Tyrion ruffled her silver curls idly.

“What is wine?”

The young princess had an inquisitive mind, much like her siblings, her whole family in fact. Must be a Targaryen thing. Her questions knew no end. Plus her love of books, she could grow to be a scholar. Tyrion regarded his goblet of wine for a few moments before replying: “Well, it’s a drink made from crushed grapes or other types of fruit fermented over a long period of time.”

“Ohhhh…” Arielle nodded, her head bobbing up and down.

Swirling the plum colored liquid around his goblet before he took a sip, allowing the velvety, bitter fluid to coat his palate before swallowing. It flowed down his throat leaving behind a fruity aromatic aftertaste in his mouth. Delicious, he thought with a smack of his lips. This bottle truly was his masterpiece. Tyrion wasn’t sure how much a three year old understood about fermentation and wine in general but it was never too early to learn the art in his opinion. “Come closer children.” He said gesturing the children over. The three children scooted closer to sit by his feet, looking up intently at him.

“Listen, while I teach you the wonders of wine.“ Propping himself up on an elbow, Tyrion took a hearty gulp of his drink before beginning his lesson. “Wine is a most marvellous invention of man. The Egyptians used to believe that vines that grapes grew on, sprang from the blood of the brave fallen warriors who battled with the gods. Another tale they believed was that, the goddess of war, Sekmhet had a thirst for blood of the fallen warriors. In order to placate the goddess from further destruction of humanity, humans tricked her into drinking copious amounts of an identical colored blood red liquid which many believed to be….” Tyrion waved his hand over his cup. “Wine.”

His audience gasped, completely entralled by his story telling.

“Also, wine was considered to have divine qualities, drunk only by royalty.” Another sip and lord Tyrion’s eyes took on a far away look. ”When drunk, it can both awaken and numb the senses when needed. Your worries, pains can be drowned out and replaced with a moment of blissful numbness.” Leaning in closer to his audience, with the scent of alcohol on his tongue, he disclosed a crucial technique: “Sometimes, when needed, it can be fed to your enemies to extract information as well.”

The young children listened with enraptured interest. Their mouths hung open in wonder. Curiosity piqued, Arielle felt the need to get her hands on that miraculous beverage sloshing around in the cup right inhere line of vision. “Can we have some? Is it tasty?”

“Hmmm…. I’m not sure it’s healthily appropriate for children.” If their mother found out he had given her babies alcohol, she’d probably be really cross. An angry dragon mother was not fun to be around. He’d seen it more than enough times to know. “I don’t think you would like it very much. It’s an acquired taste. You can have a sniff if you’d like.” Tyrion held the goblet out for the child’s nose to reach, holding back a snigger at the reaction that he knew was to come. Arielle took a deep whiff.

“Ugh! Yuck!” She exclaimed, pushing the goblet away from her face.

“I wanna sniff too!” Not wanting to lose out to his twin sister, Aedon eagerly shoved his head forwards to reach the cup. Tyrion sniggered, going along with the prince’s wishes. He offered the cup to the boy.

Nostrils flaring, the boy took a sniff and then promptly gagged. Tyrion’s body was overcome with a fit of chortling laughter, watching their tiny faces contort in disgust.

Knowing better, Elwynn shook her head, pushing the goblet away when her uncle offered it to her, his eyebrows were waggling. “Mama says it’s not good for your liver. You could die from too much alcohol. You shouldn’t drink so much, uncle.”

Tyrion blanched, even the babies were telling him to put off drinking. Should he really start doing that, he wondered. Besides helping with the Queen when she needed his counsel, life was rather looking on the up and ups. He’d even gotten the chance to start his own vinery, complete with a vineyard, producing his very own brand of wine, the Imp’s Delight. He didn’t need to drink himself into a drunken stupor whilst wallowing in the misery of his life anymore, that much was true. Drinking had become more of a leisurely pleasure to him now, something to be shared with a friend over a nice meal. “Hmm…. if I stop drinking, I’d lose my motto! I can’t drink and know things anymore. Now we don’t want that do we?”

Elwynn suggested: “You could drink less and still know things, right?”

Tyrion chuckled. “I’ll consider it.”

“She is right you know. You really should drink less.” A voice came from the doorway to the nursery. The children looked up and instantly bolted to its owner with a chorus of “mama!”s.

The dragon queen fell to her knees, almost automatically, her arms unfurled, welcoming her children into her embrace with a warm smile. She hugged them close, inhaling the scent of strawberries and fresh cream from their bath soap. Her heart filled with warmth and bloomed with love for her children. Holding them close, feeling their arms return her hug around her neck and torso reminded her of how grateful she was once again for being blessed with these beautiful, precious gifts that were her offspring. “Hello, my babies.” Dany cooed. She proceeded to grab hold of their faces, peppering each chubby, cherubic cheek with kisses in greeting, making them squirm and giggle.

With one last peck to their foreheads, Dany slipped her hands into Elwynn‘s and Aedon’s smaller ones. She got to her feet with Arielle hugging her waist. Swinging their joint hands gently, she looked down at the three pairs of purple eyes that mirrored her own and asked: “Have you been good for uncle Tyrion?”

Her question was met with resounding ‘yes’s.

Tyrion sat up, greeting his queen with a nod. “Your Grace.”

“Lord Tyrion.” Dany greeted her hand with a smile as she walked over to the chaise, gaggle of children in tow. Arielle waited for their mama to sit down before toddling forward. She sat on her feet, resting her little head atop her mama’s knees, her hands lay folded over one another propping her chin up to observe the two adults. Elwynn climbed up the chaise and settled herself comfortably into Dany’s side before helping Aedon up too. Dany smiled adoringly at her children, fingers of one hand reaching down to straighten the pink bow on the side of Arielle’s silver head. Her other hand proceeded to smooth down Elwynn’s wild raven curls, adding a tap to Aedon’s button nose, before coming to settle around her eldest child who cradled her baby brother in her lap.

Turning to her Hand, Dany inquired: “I hope you haven’t been informing my children about what lies at the bottom of a bottle, have you?”

“I wouldn’t dare, your Grace. Not to you.” Tyrion smirked. “I was simply educating them about the numerous uses a good bit of wine could provide.” He reassured the queen, a twinkle alit in his eyes.

Seated side by side like this, Dany recalled her last day in Meereen. They sat just like this as well, on the steps by the side of her throne room on the day she named Tyrion Lannister her Hand, the day she joined the great game for the Iron Throne. She would always be thankful for his belief in her, for supporting her vision for a better future, thankful for his counsel and guidance, thankful for his friendship. “We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?”

“Yes, we have.” Tyrion let out a quiet sigh. “And what a journey it has been.”

The queen nodded, feeling that familiar sense of forlornness, that old friend who sometimes dropped by for a visit unannounced when the nights were typically dreary. They each had lost so much along the way. This road to breaking the wheel had not been an easy one, with death, war and bloodshed spattered throughout. Every each and one of them who was lucky enough to make it out alive, from the ragtag group of leaders, to their people and the soldiers they lead into a battle against thousands of dead men had each lost a piece of themselves as the price for their survival. Then came the penultimate war, fiercer than the last— the battle for the Throne. As the dust settled after the reclamation of the throne, a new future was in the making. Old wounds brought about new mended scars. The hands of pain and loss had carved invisible yet permanent scars on their skins, even more so, on their hearts.

“But we’re still here. Alive and well. Moving on a path to pave the way to a brighter future for the generations to come.” Tyrion digressed, nudging Dany’s arm gently in hopes to lift her spirits. “Besides, if it weren’t for the past, we wouldn’t have the present now would we?” Reclining fully once more on the chaise, he added with a nonchalant shrug: “And the present is looking pretty good. “

The queen and her hand shared a smile. He was right as usual. Life was finally good. She had a place to seek solace from those dreary nights in the arms of her dear husband and three babies whom she could give all her love to, unconditionally.

Little hands patting at her arm broke their conversation. “What is it, my sweet?” Dany asked giving Arielle’s chin a chuck.

“When is papa coming home?” Arielle asked. “I hope it’s soon. I miss the two of you telling us bedtime stories.” She pouted, her bottom lip sticking out pitifully. The king and his queen had a nightly routine of putting their children to bed with a story of their choosing.

“Yes, we haven’t seen papa in forever!” Aedon drawled, throwing his hands up in the air before collapsing into Elwynn’s arms. Aedon missed their play fighting. He missed sharing his toys with his papa and his wooden sword missed the clang against his father’s.

Elwynn giggled holding her brother to her. Ellie missed their trainings. Aside from sword fighting, Papa had just started couching her on using the bow and arrow. Thinking for a moment, she counted the days in her head. Her papa promised that he’d come back within two weeks. He’d been gone for… thirteen, fourteen days now. She gasped in realization. “He’s coming back today isn’t he? I counted the days!” Elwynn exclaimed in excitement, her purple eyes large and shining with glee.

“Really, mama? Really?” The twins whipped their head around to look at her simultaneously, wearing identical wide-eyed, slack mouth expressions on their faces.

Dany couldn’t hold back an amused smile. Her darling children were such a joy to watch. Their faces held nothing back, revealed everything they felt so clearly. Their eyes showed everything that was running through their minds. They held no secrets in their purity.

“Yes, my babies. He’ll be arriving home soon,” informed their mother.

“Hooray!!!” The children yelled. Grabbing onto each other’s hands, the children shot to their feet and began spinning in a circle happily. Their dresses and hair bouncing up and down as they jumped. Sensing their excitement, Ghost joined in their cheer, running around them, his tail wagging back and forth behind him.

“I’d best be getting a move on.” Tyrion shouted to Dany over the ruckus. “I have a certain grape harvester to rendezvous with.” He pushed himself off the chaise, side stepping around the jumping children and ambled over to the door. “A very pretty, very feminine grape harvester to be exact. Say hello to Jon for me!” Tossing a wink at Dany over his shoulder, he yanked the door open, bottle of wine still grasped in his hand. Shaking her head at his retreating figure, Dany laughed as he slipped out the door. Typical Tyrion.

“Children!” With a clap of her hands, Dany called to them. “And Ghost, of course.” All three heads plus their wolf swiveled to look at her. “I need your help.”

The azure waves glittered under the sun as the king flew across the vast open ocean. After a full two days of travel and two whole weeks without his family, he was almost there. Each flap of the dragon’s wings took him closer and closer to his destination which he could see growing in the distance.

Home.

Down in the gardens, three children and their mother meandered through the huge hedge maze that their father had designed for them. The hedges were planted since before the twins were born and within three years, the fast growing plants grew and grew to its current state, standing at five feet. The maze was built around an old lemon tree on a field of dandelions. The couple had found this location one day, shortly after moving in to the Red Keep. They wandered through the gardens exploring. Neither of them had been there before so they made it a point to get to know their new home. Taking a turn they reached a vastly different part of the gardens, the area looked unmanned, like no one had cared for it for years. Unkempt grass grew wild, vines and thorny brambles climbed all over the walls. As they walked on, they came to a clearing and right in the middle stood a lemon tree. Though it was not bearing any fruit at the time, Dany had recognised it immediately from her dreams and that vague hint of lemon wafting from the leaves as they drew closer. She had fallen in love with it instantly. For so long, ever since she was a child, the representation of home to her had always included a lemon tree. That afternoon, the king and queen sat under it, making plans for their future together which included how they would create the perfect little nook for their children to play in.

“This is a bit scary” Aedon gulped. His pouty pink lips wobbled slightly as he curled his fingers around his twin’s.

Little Aedon was usually quite courageous but being only a child of three everything seemed so much larger. The leafy green walls of the maze loomed overhead almost as if they were about to close in and swallow him up whole.

The girls however, weren’t the least bit phased. “Don’t be scared, big brother! This is exciting!” Arielle tightened her grip on his hand. “It’s an avent… adve…” A little furrow appeared between her brows. Tugging on Dany’s skirt, the princess asked: ”Mama? What’s the word again?”

“Adventure, my darling.”

“Adventure.” Parroted the princess with a firm nod. Her silver curls bouncing with her bobbing head.

“Yeah! We have the blood of the wolves in our veins and fire of the dragons in our bellies, we’ll be fine. Just follow me.” Elwynn knew the way like the back of her hand, having explored every inch of the maze since the day the hedges were rooted into the soil, when the short shrubs had only a few leaves attached to their branches. “Here.” Sticking out her hands, Elwynn offered it to her brother and sister. “We’ll hold hands. That way we won’t get separated and you can hold on tightly if you get scared.”

Smiling, the twins placed their hands in hers. Fear gone without a trace, replaced with a renewed enthusiasm.

“Let’s go!” Elwynn cheered, pulling a giggling Arielle and Aedon along with her as she marched on ahead. “Mama! Come on!”

“Be careful, Ellie! Don’t go too far,” Admonished their mother. She wanted keep a protective eye on her babies just in case something happened to them. At the same time, she couldn’t suppress the strong sense of pride that expanded within her chest. Her children were everything she’d hoped for and more. They were kind, bright, brave and most of all they loved each other. She only hoped that it would remain that way and that they would care for each other regardless of the influences they will no doubt face from the people they meet and the ordeals they will stumble upon when they grew older.

“Alright, mama.” Elwynn hollered. The children slowed down and waited for their mama to catch up with them. Then, they made their way together through the twists and turns of the maze to the exit and into the field.

Settling the basket of flowers she held in her hands along with her trusty old tome of flower meanings by the lemon tree, Dany said to her children: “Here’s what we’re going to do.” Kneeling in front of them, from the basket of five different bunches of flowers, she retrieved three bunches and handed them to the children. “We’re going hide these flowers in the maze for your papa to find.”

“Hide and seek!” Aedon chirped.

“In a way, yes. A scavenger hunt to be exact.” Dany couldn’t resist giving his protruding little belly a light poke, enticing a high-pitched yip from the boy. His sisters shared a look dripping with mischief and decided to launch a tickle fest to their brother’s mid section.

Aedon’s childish surprised shrieks filled the air as he covered his belly with his hands, batting at their fingers. His little face gradually flushed red as he bowed over, giggling.

Watching her children tease and play with each other, Dany couldn’t help feel a bit envious. Growing up, she wondered why she didn’t have more than one sibling. Maybe if she had another sister or brother, Viserys wouldn’t have vented all his frustrations on her, the sole outlet of release for his anger. In retrospect though, she wouldn’t wish that on any child. Her brother wasn’t the nicest big brother, but she still remembered the good times, the times when they were little, when they’d have fun together in the house with the red door, before any semblance of their childhood evaporated and was replaced with so much anger, discontent and greed.

For her children, she wished that their childhood would last a long time. That they would have ample chance to experience what it is like to live a carefree life in a peaceful world, with no need to flee from city to city, with no hardship and no pain, in this new world that she’s fought so hard to change.

Eventually, his laughter began to transition into tears. Clearing her throat, Dany put on her sternest mum’s voice. “Girls, that’s enough. Let your brother go.”

The princesses relented, moving their hands away from a now weepy, teary Aedon. Hiccupping, he stumbled over to his mother. “Mama…”

“Hush, my sweet boy. You’re alright.” Dany wrapped him up snug in her arms, brushing back his silver locks from his face, rubbing a palm up and down his back, hoping to sooth the poor child. “Girls, I think we may have went a bit overboard, haven’t we?”

Elwynn nodded, rocking back and forth on her feet looking sheepishly at her brother. “I’m sorry for tickling you so much.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Arielle reached for her brother’s hand. “I didn’t know you would cry.”

“I shouldn’t have started it.” Dany planted a kiss to Aedon’s flushed cheek. “I’m sorry as well. Forgive me?” Dany murmured, her heart aching at her baby’s tears. Her fingers reached out to chase them away.

Shaking his head fervently, Aedon’s face contorted into a broody frown, very much like his father’s when something wasn’t going the way he planned. “I’m not mad at you! It’s my flower, mama!” The prince only proceeded to cry further. Rubbing at his eyes, he lifted the bunch of purplish blue Anemones up to show his mother. Through his squirming and wriggling, between his snorts and shrieks, the flowers in his clenched fists were squashed against his chest. As a result, they were now looking a bit bruised, bent at the stalks and some of the petals had fallen off too. “Papa won’t like them anymore!” Aedon wailed, big fat drops of tears streaked freely down his flushed cheeks.

Dany felt as if her heart was going to melt into a puddle within her rib cage. Her boy was such a sensitive sweetheart. “Aww… don’t worry sweetling, your papa will love them all the same. As long as it’s something his children give him.” Dany assured the child, her fingers gently caressing his face, relieving him of the salty moisture that was being squeezed out from his very active tear ducts.

“Yeah? Mama?” said the boy between hiccups.

“I’m sure of it.” Dany said with a bop to his tomato red nose. The boy shot her a wobbly grin, feeling better at last. His older sister swabbed away the last of his tears and snot with the train of her dress, while his baby sister showed him her goofiest monkey face to tease a smile out of the toddler and a gave him a hug just to be sure that he felt better.

With a smile and that sense of pride swimming in her heart, Dany straightened back up to stand, brushing off the grass stains on her knees. “Alright, let’s get to work, shall we?”

The three tots nodded their heads eagerly, rocking back and forth on the balls of their feet, ready to get on with their assigned task.

“Make sure to hide them in the bushes. Can you do that for me please?”

They nodded again. Feet already inching towards the maze they’d just came out off.

In the basket by her feet, held two more bunches of flowers and another greener bundle of leaves. Dany took the remaining bouquet from the basket, leaving the leaves behind. “I’ll keep you for later.” She thought, smirking to herself. Jon was in for a surprise. To her children, she instructed: “Stick together now.”

The children complied. Elwynn slid a free hand into Dany’s larger one, Aedon grabbed hold of Elwynn’s blouse and Arielle brought up the rear with her fingers in Aedon’s shirt.

Together, the quartet headed back into the maze.

That’s odd, Jon thought as he dismounted his horse. Instead of his family, it was Missandei who stood by the entrance to the Red Keep. Missandei and Ghost. Which was even stranger. Ghost rarely ever left the children’s sides since Elwynn’s birth. Did something happen?

Ghost bounded towards his master the moment his feet hit the ground. Leaping up in attempts to reach his face and smother him in slobbery kisses. Standing on his hind legs, Ghost stood with his front paws on Jon’s shoulders. The king chuckled ruffling the wolf’s fur by his face. “I’m glad to see you again, boy!

“Welcome home, your Highness.” Missandei greeted him warmly, her hands holding something behind her back. “I hope the skies have been clear?”

“Aye, the weather had been kind.” Jon replied, a hand stroking through Ghost’s white fur. “Is everything alright? Where’s Dany? And the children?” Jon queried, the beginnings of worry rising in his chest.

“They’re perfectly fine. Although the queen did ask me to give you this.” Bringing her hands to the front, Jon noticed that she was holding a roll of parchment. Missandei entrusted the scroll to him with a half smile, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

Jon eyed her with an arched eyebrow. To him she looked like she was keeping a secret from him.

The note was held close with a red ribbon. Tugging it off with a flourish, unrolling the scroll, Jon instantly recognized his wife’s neat penmanship. Across the parchment she wrote:

Find the four flowers in the maze. Follow the flowers to us, come to us, your family, my love.

“Huh. What could Dany be up to?” He asked absently.

Missandei simply shrugged, that cryptic smile still upon her lips. Definitely suspicious. Something was up.

Looking down at Ghost, he asked: “Do you know?”

Titling his head, Ghost merely barked.

Head into the maze, find the flowers and out the other side to his family.

“I guess I have to locate the flowers hidden in any of these hedges?” A perplexed Jon stood with his arms crossed across his chest at the entrance of the maze, pondering. “That’s a lot of hedges.”

Ghost headed into the maze ahead of him. Looking back at his master, the wolf waited with a tilt of his head and a whine almost as if urging him to get a move on. Seeing Jon still standing there, he grew impatient. His whine became a bark.

“I’m coming! And you’re helping me search.” Jon patted his wolf on the head. The king only hoped his wife didn’t hide them too well. The maze wasn’t that big but it was still big enough to feel like he was searching for a flower in a field of flowers.

Turning this way and that in the maze, thank the gods it didn’t take long for Jon to spot the first flash of colour among all the green. The first blossom was a bunch of Stargazer Lilies held together with a similar red ribbon as the parchment Missandei had given him earlier, not so hidden in the side of a hedge. The lilies were gorgeous. They looked like stars with five petals forming the five points with their protruding pistil and stamens forming the middle. The petals were pink with speckles of red dotted all over. The edges were lined with white and the sweet, poignant fragrance they emitted reminded him of the glasshouses in Winterfell. “One down, three more to go.” His heart began to gallop. He was almost there and he couldn’t wait to see them.

Walking along, Jon could picture his children and their gleeful laughter, roaming about the maze to find the perfect hiding spot, obscure but not so hidden that he couldn’t find them. He wondered what they were doing this very moment just on the other side of this maze? Were they just as eager to see him, as he was to see them?

Just then, he felt a damp nose nudging at his leg. “What is it? Did you find one?” Ghost averted his eyes to a spot behind Jon. Following his gaze, he turned to find a bunch of bright royal purple Pansy just by his head. Plucking them out of the bush, the king had to laugh. He was so occupied with looking for them at ground level he neglected to remember that his wife, just like in everything she did, was very thorough. He suspected she would have been involved in the hiding too.

“Two more left. Come on, boy.” With the flowers in one hand, the king and his wolf went on through the labyrinth.

The next blossom he picked up were a cluster of red Petunias left right in the middle of the grassy path. “Convenient.” Jon added the bundled blossoms to his collection. It would seem that one of his darling tots were eager that he got to them faster and wanted to make his job easier. Which suited him just fine, leaving him with only one more.

This was a pleasant change, he thought, glancing down at the sizeable bouquet in the crook of his arm. Usually, it was he who planned the surprises for his dear wife. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d gotten flowers or a surprise. Though his mind was beginning to piece together the meanings of the flowers, thanks to his elusive knowledge of botany not many people knew about, he still wondered what his queen had to say utilising these particular flowers. He couldn’t wait to hear it from her.

Ghost pranced by his side, tail swinging jauntily behind him, looking delighted as can be to be with his master again. Keeping his nose to the ground at occasions to help in his master’s search. As they reached the last turn, with the exit looming just ahead, Ghost suddenly rushed forward, sticking his snout into a hedge and returned to Jon with last bunch of flowers gingerly clamped between his jaws. “Thank you, well done Ghost!” Jon accepted the bunch from him. It was a delicate bouquet of Anemone. The blossoms looked a bit battered, missing a few petals here and there, but they were still lovely nonetheless and meant so much to him already. They were quite rare in these regions, he had no clue they even existed in the gardens. These flowers were special for their natural ability to close when night comes and open to the sun when daylight breaks. He just knew that the children would love to see them, while still attached to their roots of course. He’d have to take them on a hunt for them during one of their afternoon adventures soon. With that, all four had been found. Time to meet his family just around the bend.

Among the field of yellow and white blossoms, three young children huddled close to their mother, bending stalks, weaving flower crowns and blowing at dandelion fluffs. Each seed carried a wish to the sky, a wish for their papa to appear before their eyes. Just then, their furry big brother leapt through the stalks, trampling across the field, barking. All four heads turned towards him and their eyes alighted on the figure standing at the edge of the clearing. Their wishes came true!

“Papa!” His children called out to him, children that he never thought he would have the chance to father. Childish voices soared through the air, so clear, so crisp like a cool spring breeze drifting through the leaves of a tree, carrying the distinct purity only the children of summer could have, as tiny sandaled feet pounded against the ground. Three tiny bodies rushed through the grass, sending fluffy dandelion seeds scattering everywhere. Their outstretched hands reached for him in search of that familial connection between a father and his children. Jon dropped to his knees with his arms held apart, ready to catch his prince and princesses barrelling straight for him. An armful of mini humans later, he found himself on his backside having toppled backwards with a grunt, his arms as full as his heart was bursting.

“Papa, we’ve missed you so very much!” Elwynn exclaimed, hugging him around the neck.

“Yeah! You’ve been gone forever!” Arielle rubbed her cheek back and forth against his tunic, like a cat welcoming her parent home from a hard day of work. In a way that seemed applicable to him too.

“Did ya see any White Walkers beyond the Wall?” Aedon asked, his hands clinging to Jon’s right sleeve.

Ignoring their disapproving whines at him squishing them, the laughing king intensified his grip around his children, dropping smooches all over the crowns of their heads. He simply sat on the ground relishing in the moment, having them so near once more, trying his best to give them two weeks worth of cuddles and snuggles in one ginormous one. These babies and his wife were his everything. The day he held Elwynn in his arms, such a small wriggly thing, bundled up in a blanket, he knew that he would do anything for his children. Then when the twins came along, he knew for certain that he would go to any extent to keep them safe, even if it meant giving his life. Now that he was a father, words that his uncle, who raised him like a father would, resonated with him. Even if it meant being the lone wolf that died, he would do so willingly to ensure that his pack lived on. But before that, he would burn whomever dared to harm his family to ash.

The human heart was such a mysterious organ, one that she was constantly underestimating. Underestimating its capacity to love. Her husband and her offspring interacting made such a beautiful sight, watching from a distance, an overwhelming giddy, fluttery, fuzzy feeling expanded and expanded before melting her heart into a puddle of molten emotions within her chest cavity as moisture gathered in her eyes. All of them, the four beautiful beings that she stood observing, composed a future that once long ago, she never thought would ever be in the cards for her anymore. Sometimes, it almost seemed to good to be true, like a dream, a dream of spring in the darkest, coldest winter. And yet, as her eyes met her husband’s, over the top of their children’s heads, she knew this was true, a reality that was hers. One that she would protect with everything she had.

Leaving the children to play a few feet away, making sure they could still be seen, Dany weaved her fingers through the spaces between her husband’s, where they fit perfectly, where they belonged. She walked them towards the giant lemon tree. Under the shade provided by the foliage, with the scent of lemon in the air, and white lemon blossoms above their heads, Dany nestled herself against the front of Jon’s body. “I spent the whole day planning and researching all this for you, did you know?” She stated feeling extremely proud of herself. The queen had Jon’s bouquet in he hands, clasped in front of her stomach with her arms around her flower almanac that still held all the flowers he’d gifted to her over the years, now long dried of course but the queen had them preserved and pressed into bookmarks so she could keep them for a long, long time. Shimmying slightly to get comfortable, Dany peered up at him, a look of pure bliss painted her enchanting amethyst orbs. After so many years, she was just as mesmerizing as the first moment they met. There was not a side of her that he had uncovered which he hadn’t fell for. Taking the courage and allowing his heart to fall and welcome her into it all those years ago was the best-damned thing he had ever done in his then, bleak and dreary life. At the moment though that old life seemed so far away. The endless winter had finally turned to spring.

“Thank you, my queen.” The king cuddled his lover in the warm enclosure of his arms, cherishing the feel of her back in his embrace. “This has to be one of the greatest gifts I’ve had the pleasure of receiving.” Pressing a lingering kiss to her temple, he added: “It comes close to meeting you and the birth of our children of course.”

His queen snuggled back into him, running the tip of her nose indulgently along his neck, breathing in his scent. Not withholding the urge to drop opened mouthed kisses along the expanse of his exposed skin, Dany relished in his shudder with an appreciative hum. How she’d missed him. The scratch of his scruffy beard under her fingers, up and down the her inner thighs, the touch of the calloused pads of his fingers that always reduced her into a trembling mess, the warm family moments they shared together with their babies, just everything that was him.

“Do you know why I chose these flowers for you?”

“Why did you choose them, my love?”

Tucking her head into the bend where Jon’s neck met his shoulder, Dany spoke softly, eager to savour this rare tender moment which didn’t come by very often now that they were parents: “These flowers in particular allow for a smoother storytelling process. The meaning of these flowers can be strung into a short tale of my woes while you were away.” She batted her eyelids at him playfully, before breaking out into a giggle, one that Jon couldn’t help but join in. “Would you like to hear it?” Her fingers already rearranging the bouquets in the right order as she spoke.

“Of course I would.” Jon replied, shifting her hair away from her face and placing the lock behind her ear. He loved her like this without her many intricate braids, with just the one running down the middle, made up of two smaller braids that held her hair away from the sides of her face, leaving the rest of her locks flowing free. In place of her royal crown was a flower crown, circling her head. In his eyes the ensemble made her appear no less regal but softer, more vulnerable in a way that made her even more beautiful, more carefree, away from her worries and duties, more like the Dany so often hidden under all her titles.

“Let’s start with this one.” Dipping her head low, Dany welcomed the sweet floral scent into her nose. “Stargazer lilies are really pretty aren’t they?” She asked. “I couldn’t sleep without you holding me, so I went strolling one night an the scent of these flowers drew me to them, I picked them and got the idea to give you flowers like you tend to give me! These flowers were the perfect candidate. You see, the predominant felling when you left was an acute sense of longing. These flowers carry that sentiment.” Twirling a lily around and watching their red speckles catch the light, she remembered how the children would query every night of when their papa would come home. Every time they did so, her heart would ache just a little more. “I’ve missed you, Jon, terribly. Our babies did too. We’ve never parted for such an extended period of time in so long.”

“I’ve missed you too. I missed my family. It felt odd being away, like a part of me was missing. Which I suppose was true.” Kissing her on the back of her head, he reflected: “A big portion of my heart stayed behind back here, with you. Seems like I can’t stray away from you, my queen. ”

“Good. You’d better remember that.” Dany flicked at his nose defiantly with the flowers, laughing lightly as he sneezed.

“Aye, I will.” Jon promised, sniffling lightly. Lifting the heavy tome up and out of Dany’s lap to wind his arms around her to rest on her belly, Jon cheekily nipped at her earlobe, making her yelp. Smirking as she shot a flustered glare back at him, he nodded with his head at the flowers, speaking an unspoken ‘continue please’.

Dany cleared her throat, all the while tyring hard not to smile at her husband’s mischievous capers. Sometimes her stoic wolf could be just like their children, which was something she found surprisingly endearing. Pulling Jon’s arms tighter around her, Dany picked out the Pansy next. “Essentially, the Pansy conveys the meaning of remembrance. Remembering events of the past.” Playing with the round petals under her fingers, a small smile stole across her lips. “Sometimes during the night when I felt particularly lonely, my mind would fill with all the things we’ve been through, all the good and the bad.”

“That was what I did too.” It was the same for him. Lying in his childhood bedroom, in his childhood bed back in Winterfell, everything around him looked the same and yet everything was different now. The space beside him in bed felt empty and cold without his love, a thousand miles away. The occasional raven from Kings Landing and the thoughts of his darling family were the only things that kept him on his task and the prospect of getting back to them soon pushed him to work harder. “The thoughts of the happy times we’ve spent together, are your greatest treasure huh?” Jon’s fingers reached forward to curve around the edge of a pansy petal.

Nuzzling her forehead against his, Dany hummed. “Yes.”

“As are mine.” Jon rubbed his nose alongside hers. “Always.”

“As the day of your return approached, I began feeling much lighter, my heart was so full to the brim with,” Waving the bunch of Anemone before his eyes, Dany could almost feel an echo of excitement in her building once more. “Anticipation, Jon.”

The king laughed. He knew that feeling all too well.

“And now that you’re back, I can give you these Petunias that fully represent what I hope we’ll have more of in the future.” Gently placing the flowers back in Jon’s hands, Dany wrapped her smaller ones around his. “I wish with all my heart that I will be able to fulfil my endless desire to spend the rest of my life in your company, because no matter what we’re going through, you make me feel sure of myself, you sooth every frazzled nerve that comes up and you just…. make me so happy.”

When they first met, the queen had no intention of getting used to the presence of this broody man, the solemn king in the North, no intention at all to grow close to him, to let him steal his way into that firmly guarded vault that held her vulnerability, held her heart. He did so in such a sneaky way that when she realised her feelings for him, the seeds had already taken root and had grown into little buds of love that would soon bloom into flowers that never withered even in the harshest of winters.

Jon was speechless. His throat so clogged up with emotions the only way he could react was to capture his wife’s lovely mouth with his.

“Just when I thought I couldn’t love you more…” He murmured against her lips when they parted reluctantly for breath. “I love you and would gladly spend my whole life working my hardest to bring you only joy, after all that you’ve been through, all the hardship and pain. You deserve only happiness.”

Chasing after his lips for more pecking kisses, Dany uttered breathlessly: “You deserve it too. Let’s agree to be happy together.”

“That sounds like a solid plan.” Kissing her back with ardour, Jon couldn’t agree more.

The dimly lit nursery was dark and the light snoring from two slumbering princesses was the only sound that could be heard. The only occupants awake were the king and his little prince.

“Papa?” A sleepy Aedon called out. His eyes were already drooping, but he had a very important question in mind that he needed to ask.

Jon came to sit by his son’s bed. “What is it, my boy?” He asked, tucking the covers securely around the child.

“Do you think I’m weak?” Came the prince’s voice, muffled from his mouth being half hidden under the covers. Aedon’s eyes darted around the room, not meeting his father’s directly.

Taken aback, Jon had to ask, his voice curious with a hint of worry. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, today when we were going into the lemon tree place, I got scared had to hold Ellie and Ari’s hands.” Aedon’s voice was beginning to wobble. Even in the dark, Jon could tell that tears were welling in his eyes. His son reminded him a bit of his baby brother Rickon. Aedon was such a sweet, sensitive boy who had the bravery of the wolf and dragon combined, residing in his blood but sometimes Jon wondered if he felt unsure of himself. He wasn’t the wildest or loudest child. He was the quiet, cautious one who never jumped into situations that could endanger him. The silent wolf that came prowling through the trees in the woods, silent but loud when need be. He was the perfect balance between his wilful sisters.

Pulling the blanket away from his son’s body, Jon gently lifted the boy up to sit on his lap. “Aedon, listen to me carefully now.” Tipping his head up by the chin so that their eyes met, Jon stated firmly: “Being afraid doesn’t make you weak. There is nothing wrong in being scared sometimes. In fact, it proves that you are strong.”

“How?” Aedon asked, confused.

“To be weak is to be brave. Let me ask you this, Aedon.” Jon’s hand came to curl around his son’s arm, shifting the boy to sit with his side resting against his chest. “Did you make it out of the maze?”

Aedon nodded, still looking up at his father warily.

“Then that’s all that matters! Only by being brave, allowed you to face your fear. That bravery in you gave you the courage to overcome that fear and come out at the end!”

“But… I still had to let my sisters guide me!” The boy frowned.

“That is also a sign of the bravery that you have in you. Being able to admit that you were scared and ask for help is a good thing.” Rocking his son gently from side to side, Jon said: “Besides, we don’t have to be brave all the time. Just as long as it appears when it’s needed, to protect the things you hold dear for example, like your family or to do what is right, what is necessary.”

Aedon’s eyes grew large as an unbridled grin formed across his face, pushing up his chubby cheeks. “I was brave, papa?”

“Aye.” Jon reassured him with a ruffle to his curls. “You are so very brave. And who knows, maybe one day your sisters will need you to defend them. Maybe even your mama and I might need your help.”

“No way!” Aedon said in a breathy voice, tinged with disbelief. “Me?”

“Aye. You will need to bring out that bravery you have inside here.” Jon pointed at Aedon’s chest. “Be the dragon you were born to be, be the wolf that protects his pack. Can you do that my boy?”

Aedon puffed up his chest with his lips pursed into the tightest line and nodded his head so vehemently his curls bounced all over the place.

“Good. Remember, being afraid does not make you weak.” Sticking out his pinkie finger, Jon offered it to the boy. “Promise you’ll remember that?”

Aedon hooked his tiny finger as best as he could around his father’s. “I promise.”

“Now, let’s get you to bed. You’re going to need your energy if you want to hunt some White Walkers with me tomorrow!” Jon tossed his son up in the air lightly, relieved to hear the sound of his son’s cheerful laughter. Urging the boy into the confines of his blanket, and watching with a smile as he lay back down before pulling the blanket up to his chin. Finally with the boy firmly tucked in, Jon said to him: “I love you, my son.”

“I love you, papa. Good night.” Aedon mumbled as his eyes fell shut, ready to join his sisters on their expedition through the land of dreams.

With lingering kisses to each other their slumbering heads, Jon crept out of the nursery, leaving the door open just a crack.

“Are the children asleep?” Dany asked from their bed.

“Aye. Arielle and Ellie knocked out before I even got to the end of the first page and you know how much they love that story.” Jon replied with a fond smile lifting the corners of his lips. The princesses requested that story almost nightly. It was the tale of a warrior princess mounting her dragon and slaying the hideous Chimera with dragon fire. It was very true to their characters. He wondered what kind of princesses they’d grow up to be, his beautiful daughters. One thing that he knew for certain was, they’d grow to be just as strong as their mother and their aunts in the North. It was in their blood after all.

“Ugh…. I’m exhausted!” Jon groaned, collapsing onto his side of bed, his head falling to rest on the queen’s thigh.

Dany ran her fingers lovingly through his silky curls. “I bet you are. But you can’t sleep yet!”

“What? Why?” Jon exclaimed with a pout, looking ridiculously like his children when they didn’t get their way.

“There is something else I saved for you.” A sly half smile fleeted across her mouth as she held up a sprig of mistletoe between her fingers. “I’m sure you know what this little plant means?”

“Mistletoe huh?” Jon sat up and crawled over to his wife, a languid smirk tugging at his mouth, until there was only a scant distance between their lips. “If my memory serves me,” he hummed, thinking for a moment, “it means you’re sending me a thousand kisses?” Jon murmured, his breath rolling over Dany’s face. He wasn’t aware of just how much he’d missed her in bed until they were just an inch away from touching. How he’d missed his lovely wife, the warmth of her pressed against him, the taste of her, her scent, her talented tongue doing sinful things to his body that made him want to combust under her, and the sight of her being a mother to their children, just her everything.

Turns out she’d been missing him too, for she craved him, dearly. The queen scooted herself closer to him, an arm curled around Jon’s neck, she pulled him to her. Her eyes slipped shut as their lips brushed against one another, not quite kissing just yet but grazing softly as they breathed together, savouring the closeness of their bodies, reunited at last. The contented hum released by the queen radiated from her lips to his, sending delicious tremors coursing through Jon’s body.

“Well…. I couldn’t send them to you attached to the feet of a raven, so I saved them up for you. Now that you’re back….” Wiggling the green parasitic sprig above their heads, her lips blossomed into a grin that he felt against his own. “Feel free to come and claim your kisses anytime, my darling husband.”

That was all a very reinvigorated Jon needed to pounce forward and pin his wife to their bed. The sprig of mistletoe fell to the floor, soon to be joined by their clothes as the king and queen spent the rest of the night rediscovering one another, reacquainting themselves with the spots on each other’s bodies that made them tremble and topple over the edge into the arms of carnal ecstasy.

It was good to be home, Jon concluded. As they say, home is where the heart was, amongst many other things.

#day 1 #jonerysweek #jonerys week 2018 #jonerysfic #jonerys #jon x daenerys #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #jonerys fanfic #jonerys fan fiction #jonerys family fluff #jonerys fluff #baby targaryens #got fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #my fic

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we-were-legends · 6 years

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“Champion’s dawn”

Chapter 3 - “Precious moments”

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Oropher jumped up the stairs leading to the solitary spacy chamber room that was his father's favourite place to eat in. Although still irritated, he was slowly getting in much greater mood and at the thought of spending time with his father his spirits were lifted up even more.

He was not sure whose footsteps he heard behind him on the corridor, but when an arm was hunged across his shoulder in a greatly familiar gesture Oropher in turn embraced the elf's ribs around and brought him closer.

'I heard you and Taranir all the way through the corridors!' Galathil laughed. 'What has gotten you so angry, my dear cousin? Faineth almost sent me to calm you down.'

Galathil's eyes glinted with joy and Oropher perfectly knew the reason why – Galathil and Faineth were expecting a child. Galathil's smile was undeniable and all of him spoke of great hapiness that instantly clinged to Oropher waving away the last of his previous anger.

'Halloth, as always.' Oropher answered, but quickly changed the subject to not cought himself into a trap and fall into irritation once more. 'And tell Faineth to not bother this much, she has another worries at hand. How does she fare?'

'Very well, to be honest.' Galathil said. 'The time is coming closer. Faineth and her maidens seem to be calm and they know what they are doing, but I don't how I could possibly help.'

Oropher looked at his cousin and patted his ribs in manlike gesture to give him little comfort.

'Don't threat, Galathil. All will be fine and I will be there for you when the time comes'

His cousin smiled at him with clear relief. Oropher could easily believe Galathil's nervousness – the child's birth was no iddle matter and though the complications were very rare none could deny the great labour and suffering of maidens who brought a new life to this world.

Oropher remembered well the day when Galathil stormed into his room after knocking briefly at the door and cought him firmy. Then he rised Oropher up, whipped him around and they almost fell when Galathil lost his balance. Oropher, having no clue what this was all about, he let his cousin show off his clearly good mood and he had not stopped him, but Galathil finally told him the joyful news – that he and Faineth were expecting a child. Oropher for a moment could not say a world and then the first surprise was lost in gratulations and happiness.

Oropher reached out and mashed Galathil's silver hair that were gathered into long ponytail.

'Cousin, I don't think you know how happy I am for you! And how proud I am of Faineth!' he said when Galathil quickly broke free from his hand and saved his hair from being even more tangled. 'I believe your child will be the most spoiled one in Menegroth.'

'I fear it too, though I will do everything to prevent it.' Galathil said. 'And lately, it seems that my lovely wife has enough of my presence and constant concern, as she said it herself. She almost ordered me to go somewhere else. And I've been wondering if we should not go for a hunt, cousin, just like the old days. Only Celeborn, you and me.'

That was not exactly like the old days for Amdir was not with them. Their cousin left Menegroth long ago and performed his duty at the Western Tower at the far border of the forest of Brethil. It was the position he asked for himself and it seemed Amdir was glad when he left his once home.

Oropher a bit reluctantly agreed to Galathil's proposition and he truly hoped nothing unexpected would cross their plans.

'We are set then. We will meet at the stables with the first light of the Bear.'

Galathil tugged him firmy with arm still hunged across Oropher's shoulder and this time he mashed darker grey-silver hair of his cousin.

Galathil and Oropher were born more or less at the same time during the Great March and being the same age they grew up together like brothers and that's how they treated each other – the deep familiarity between them and honesty was not maimed by the different status they held in Menegroth. Even during their arguments Oropher never dared to lash out at Galathil as he did on his soldiers, even sometimes on Alagos. Not to mention that Galathil would not let Oropher treat him this way.

In the middle of their scramble they almost bumped with Erthor who walked into the main corridor from the smaller one. Halting, Erthor looked at them both and then shook his head.

'I am happy to see you both in high spirits.' he said when Oropher finally managed to tear away from his cousin. 'I almost felt sympathy for your soldiers, my son. What on the skies has made you so angry?'

Oropher prevented himself from rolling his eyes and Galathil chuckled softly. Everyone was eager to tell that he was too harsh, while Oropher wondered what they would have done in his place.

'Their punishment was deserved.' he said firmly. 'And I don't take foolishness lightly in my ranks.'

'Of that I am sure.' Erthor said and then looked at his nephew. 'Would you like to join us for food and drink, Galathil?'

'Thank you, uncle, but I believe you two should spend this time together.' Galathil said. 'I will see you around.'

He patted Oropher's back and nodded to his elder before going away. His long ponytail flew from one side to another on his back and Oropher immediately remembered this one time he and Amdir decided to cut Galathil's beautiful hair.

'How is your horse?' Erthor asked then. 'I remember you mentioning some time ago that it didn't feel well lately.'

'I sent Saida to check on him, but I don't expect any improvement.' Oropher said joining his father and they walked arm to arm the short way down the corridor towards the spacy room.

'It's a shame. Kairon is a wealthy and courageus steed and good tempered, too, which is rare.'

Oropher could only agree. His chestnut Kairon was everything he could expect from a military working horse with his strong, long legs, intelligence, good health and nice temperament. His other two steeds were less liked by him – black Hakon was a bit too spooky and Oropher still needed to work this out of him, while dappled grey Bargamo was mean and temperamental although fast like no other horse. It seemed Oropher would need to seriously think about getting a new horse, more sooner than later.

They walked into a spacy chamber with long wooden table at the center and long archy windows overloking the down levels of the city. The room was literally covered with flowers – the pots stood everywhere and even hunged on the walls showing off the plants with long hanging leaves. A few painting were here and there presenting the nature and views around Doriath, but colorful flowers were the main appeal. As they walked in, the aroma of blossoms hit Oropher immediately making him long for the southern lands of the Region forest – the mighty trees welcoming any travelers, forest glades full of berries and vast strawberry fields on the verge of the forest.

The cold grape drinks were already waiting for them on the table and small fish rolls at the serving plate tempted with their look and smell. Also, fresh apples, berries, cherries and grapes were placed in ornamented bowl, beautifully arranged.

Oropher and Erthor took their places in front of each other as this was a familiar meeting between them. Had it been an official meeting of their House, Erthor would sit at the head of the table and Oropher would take place next to his father.

'I don't know if you heard.' Erthor said placing a few fruit pieces on his plate. 'Arvellon was sent on a patrol duty few changes ago. They are to check on the closest settlements.'

Oropher drank a bit of his drink and it pleasantly cooled him. Arvellon was a soldier under the banner of Egnaspen and Oropher had nothing to say concerning his cousin's orders or how the officers of the Wolf decide to dispose him. However, it's good that they decided to send young soldiers beyond the walls of Menegroth, if only for a short time. And he was pleased that it was Arwellon who was chosen to carry through those orders.

'I am glad. I know how hard he works and how he tries to step out from other soldiers, but he lacks experience.' he said and then added qiuetly 'I hope he is as wise as I think of him and he won't literally follow my steps.'

Erthor laughed and shook his head as he heard what his son had said. He remembered well the beginning of Oropher's service in the army of Menegroth. The day he was off for his first training Erthor told him that he was on his own – that neither his position by birth or royal blood matters along the way he had chosen. Erthor also swore that neither he or Galadhon would interfere in his doings or training. And what he said had happened – not even once Erthor helped his son anyhow and during the training Oropher lived in a baracks with other foot soldiers. Only later, after quiet observation and fearing the consequences of letting his son be lead by her fire, Erthor decided to meet with Egnaspen.

'Arvellon is eager to show himself, but he is not like you. However, that never stopped him from taking you as example.' Erthor said silently glad that when Arvellon was born, Oropher's flame have already calmed with no small aid of Egnaspen. Then Erthor smiled, happy that his nephew can have Oropher to follow, just like Oropher had Galadhon. 'Arvellon always looked up to you. When he was but a child he was like a little duck following you and I always smile remembering your exasperation.'

'He always chose a bad time to follow me.' Oropher smiled though he could not deny that his first irritation turned to great love for his cousin and he often spent time with Arvellon on his own, in which he surprised even himself as he didn't like elflings all too much.

'And this one time he sneaked up on you on the courtayrd.' Erthor laughed to memories though the incident he now laughed about was no joke back in the day. 'Was it Galathil or Celeborn who was supposed to look after him?'

'Celeborn.' Oropher said as he smiled on his own at the lone memory of his cousin's face and after so long time he didn't even feel the dreadful shivers he felt back then. 'I swear I thought about killing him and throwing to the ditch. And then killing him more.'

'Celeborn was never the best keeper for children. Neither was Amdír. I know, since they often took care of you and Galathil.' Erthor said and shook his head.

Oropher smiled once more and sipped his grape drink slowly. During their childhood, Celeborn as the oldest and Amdír, second oldest, should watch over them, but instead, they often joined them in many mischiefs – after all, they were not so much older.

However, Arvellon was a sweet child and he rarely caused any problems, but the main trouble with his cousin was that he extremely quickly learned how to walk and he was as fast as if he did that for life. And that indeed caused many problems, especially when he was small enough to not fully understand what was happening around him.

One time, when the Stag was shining, Oropher was on his way back to Menegroth leading his soldiers back from routine long patrol to the far settlements in the forest of Neldoreth. The gates to Menegroth were open and awaited their arrival and they rode forth in swift gallop passing the gateway.

He never knew if it was a thunder of hooves or the smell of fresh air that attracted Arvellon, but his little cousin appeared out of nowhere on their way reaching his tiny hands towards them. Never before Oropher forced his horse to stop so quickly and the animal answered his bidding sharply and immediately and the sheer impetuosity of this manouver sent Oropher to the muscular neck of his horse. Thankfully, chestnut Kairon was easygoing and have not darted on side or throw his head and Oropher managed to hold himself on horse's back.

His soldiers were in the same situation or even worse – when his horse stopped so sharply Saida and Alagos, riding behind him, collided with each other and Saida fell on Alagos when their horses were able to stop so quickly, bumped into Oropher's steed. Faron's stallion reared angered when he was cought closely between Taranir and Orthon whose horses started to bite each other after they collided. Nelledir's horse jumped to the side pinning his leg painfully to the wall and Elhador and his horse were pretty much fighting for their lives near brawling horses of Taranir and Orthon.

But truly, Oropher, still hanging from horse's neck, only stared at his small cousin who was only few horse-steps ahead and Oropher's heart bumped so hard he thought it would jump out of his chest and cold sweat that flew down his spine almost made him pass out at the lone though of what could have happened. And although they managed to stop from fast gallop and, prizing the skies, no harm befallen on small Arvellon, Oropher was sure they presented the most ungracious form and could be taken as example of how to not lead the cavalry all the more when Orthon from behind shouted something that suspiciously sounded like being fucked in the head.

Oropher stole a grape from his father's plate and shook his head.

'Fortunatelly, Arvellon lived the day. And so did Celeborn.'

'You wanted to strangle him.'

'He deserved it.'

Though, the story was always told for fun, poor Arvellon each time was embarassed and a flush on his cheeks only betrayed it. He would cross his arms on chest and try not to show this, but he could not help it and as his older cousins neither Galathil, Oropher or Celeborn could let it pass without a laugh.

'But I am glad he is recognized by his commanders. Arvellon will become a great warrior and a trustworthy soldier. He has natural talent for it.' Oropher said and smiled remembering the beginning of his cousin's training.

'He want you to be proud of him. Galadhon and you. I know deep in his heart Edwethon is proud of him more than anyone would ever believe, but my brother does not show it. Yours appreciation means a world to him.'

Oropher knew it. And just as Erthor long ago said to him, he had said this same thing to Arvellon – if he wished to be a soldier than Oropher would do nothing to either help or detrack him. Arvellon was on his own and he would rise only with his own strength and hard work.

Just as Oropher centuries ago, Arvellon completed the basic training as one of the best and after being trained for an officer he was given his first promotion. Oropher had been there when he was given his commendation, although he had many matters that needen his attention he had to be there celebrating Arvellon's success. He was proud of his little cousin and when Egnaspen graced Arvellon with his first order there was such happiness in his gold eyes that Oropher wished he could set aside the skies for him. Though, deep in his heart Oropher knew it should have been Amdír in his place, he thought of Arvellon as his younger brother and he was there for him seeing all of his achievements and failures.

'I am proud of him, as much as I can.' Oropher said. 'But he is still young and it's better for him to stay in line as other soldiers. He has still much to learn and sadly, he lacks patience.'

'It runs in the family, it seems.' Erthor said, though he was truly glad that neither Arvellon or Galathil have inherited the fiery temper that Amdir, Oropher and Celeborn posessed.

'But tell me, how is the coucil going? Have you began the preparations for winter?'

'I brought this matter to the King and he agreed to take care of this on the next hearing.' Erthor said. 'Mablung will be present there and I believe he will give appropriate orders, all the more that Rhîw is said to be harsh.'

'If Raeg will be as reluctant as last time to let go of Menegroth's goods I swear I will make him be more compliant.'

'Last time.' Erthor said emhasising those words 'You threatened him enough. That is why you were not invited to the council meetings ever since.'

'He threatened you and Celeborn.' Oropher pointed out 'And accused you of lying.'

It was not said straight by Raeg. Instead, he said that in a long speech and formal words fitting the walls of the Throne Room. Oropher have not met Raeg before, but he sensed the anger and uncertainity of other councillors as he spoke and it easily clinged to him. With each word spoke by Raeg, Oropher's eyes narrowed at him as the emotions of the elves around lead him to openly show his irritation. Some councillors, like Saeros, openly agreed with Raeg, but the King sat quietly on his Throne and clear frown was visible upon his forehead.

Oropher, being sitted on the other side of the room, saw Erthor in front of himself. His father was clearly out of his usual calm composture, but still he listened patiently to Raeg's words, while Celeborn sitted near Erthor was ready to rise up any moment when Raeg would stop speaking and it seemed that only Erthor's firm silence prevented him from doing so.

Until finally the last drop poured through the goblet when Raeg also presented his doubts to Celeborn's work. Raeg was standing close to both Erthor and Celeborn and his pose was not only threatening but also full of determination and his words only emphasised his self proclaimed right. At the end of he speech, he blatantly spoke straightly to Erthor that the cells deep down the caves were not made without a reason.

Celeborn got up in an instant, his silver eyes flashed like the sharpest icicles and his voice rose between the walls and Erthor got up just after Celeborn holding his nephew's arm in calming gesture, preventing him from approaching the daring councillor. The elves backing up Raeg and Erthor got from their seats as well and first loud voices were rised between them. But before the real argument began, Oropher stepped in between Raeg and his father, towering easily above the councillor and forcing him to take a step back. Although Raeg stood his ground he was easily overwhelmed while standing before the General of Doriath and facing his sharpness. And after a moment Celeborn appeared at Oropher's side matching him in great anger.

They were stalwart like fierce bulls with strenght and fierceness daring anyone to attack their family one more. They were wild and full of fury with eyes mirroring fire - but while Oropher was to be feared for his wildness and daring nature, Celeborn stood proudly and his great majesty needed no more words. Threaten him once more and I will make you suffer. Oropher spoke only those words and if only he could he would have bared deadly teeth at the impetuous councillor. Erthor stepped in between his son and nephew forcing them to break their agressive stance and saving Raeg from more of their wrath. Ever since that day it was either Haerdin or Egnaspen, who joined Mablug for the council meetings, but from what Celeborn had told Oropher, Raeg never did such a thing again.

'Raeg is arrogant.' Erthor admitted. 'He tries to rise in the coucil at all cost, but Saeros is wiser and he truly cares for Doriath's prosperity. I don't agree with him on many matters, but I can't deny him that.'

Oropher didn't agree. If anything he thought of Saeros to be as cunning as Raeg with that exception that Saeros was not a snake and he never truly got on Oropher's bad side.

'I don't like them both.' he muttered and then changed the subject. 'At the Bear's light I will go hunting with Celeborn and Galathil. Maybe I will manage to shoot a goose, I know uncle Galadhon likes it roasted.'

'That would make him smile. He does not feel very well these days, but he does not show it, of course.' Erthor sighted thinking of his brother. 'The King also mentioned about going hunting. I believe he wishes to hunt wolves this time. They bred a lot in the forest of Region.'

'The new coat with wolven rug would be nice.' Oropher said as he stretched out in his comfy chair. He admitted this was not a bad idea, all the more that his older coats for winter were already worn out. He had his third, special one, ornamented with bear fur, but he rarely wore it.

A regally dressed messanger arrived at the entrance to the chamber where they pleasantly spent their time. Erthor immediately rised his sight at the elf, who bowed graciously before speaking.

'Forgive me for interruption.' he said. 'There is a message for you, my Lord Erthor.'

He reached out to receive a folded paper and then they were left alone once more. Oropher watched his father read the long message quietly while he picked the grapes from a bowl. Finally, Erthor placed a paper on a table and took his drink in hand.

'It's from the granary. Their supervisors want to meet up and discuss the strategy for winter knowing that we will send some of our goods to the settlements.'

'A wise move.' Oropher said as they both sipped their drinks, but before they managed to get hold of their previous conversation a fast footsteps were heared again on the corridor and it was a royal guard who showed up in their room.

'My Lords.' the elf greeted placing fisted hand on chest and bowing delicately. 'The King has sent me for you, my Lord Erthor. He asks your forgiveness for the interruption, but the matter is of great importance, as he said himself.'

Oropher frowned as he looked upon his father. The King rarely sent for Erthor giving his councillor time to perform his duties and his time to rest, but Erthor nodded to the elven guard not perturbed about this.

'Thank you, I will meet his majesty immediately.'

The guard nodded and stepped back to the corridor waiting for the silver Lord. Erthor sighted deeply and got up straightening his navy-black robes.

'It seems we won't have a moment for each other.' he said and Oropher shook his head bitterly before getting up as well. He cought his father in firm embrace that was returned more delicately.

'I don't have planned patrols for a long while, so we will have many possibilities to meet each other.' Oropher said as he walked his father to the corridor.

'That eased me more than anything, my son.' Erthor said and he smiled once more. 'Good hunting with Celeborn and Galathil.'

Oropher watched his father being escorted by the guard. He wondered what was of such importance for the King to summon his father all of sudden and he could only suppose the matter to be truly of concern for the King respected the time Erthor wished to spend with his family. Maybe later Oropher he will have a chance to delicately ask his father about this or maybe uncle Galadhon knew something about it by chance.

He decided to check on Alagos before he would close in his office near the training fields to write reports for Mablung. Supposedly, he will be interrupted countless times and none of his writing will make any coherance or sense. Fortunately, Mablung was very well aware that his reports were as long as they needed to be while focusing strickly on subject matter and including all the necessary information.

Oropher arrived to the sandy field and oversaw his soldiers from the higher ground. Amrun, Tinnu and Halloth were kneeling on woody, lumpy planks with bars burdened with sacks over their shoulders. Very unpleasant experience. And judging by the looks of three elves they were it this position for a long time. Alagos, on the other hand, brought himself a chair with a stand to lean his legs on. He had his favourite dagger in hand and polished it carefully caring for every detail. Alagos, this comfy old wolf.

Oropher shook his head and walked up the stairs of a wooden building to his office.

#oropher #celeborn #galathil #amdir #sindar #doriath #house of elmo #we were legends #champion's dawn

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chocosvt · 7 years

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read additional ending here

⚬ pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader. ⚬ word count: 18K. ⚬ warnings: nothing too jarring, but there is an unplanned pregnancy. ⚬ genre: everything, angst, fluff, smut, romance, drama.

— ✧✎ synopsis: you work as a part time florist whilst jeon wonwoo balances his time between being a body piercer and helping out at his uncle’s garage. the two of you are thrust together in an awkward meet up when you get your first piercing. wonwoo thinks you’re kinda odd, but he knows he isn’t much different, and little by little he becomes infatuated with how you can make watering hibiscus flowers sound so interesting.

— ✧✎ a/n: don’t rlly have anything 2 say other than have fun reading, the soul has been sucked out of me!! jeon wonwoo destroyed my feelings!!

He is quiet, still like a marble statue that encases ivory bone and hot scarlet. He is impassive, a heavy brow left without a single crease nor a wrinkle, the ink that churns in indolent pupils murky, yet clear with your image that reflects in similarity to a mirror. His lips are beautiful, decorated in lovely shades of rose, yet they are not curled in a signature smile that flutters a heart or preludes a giggle. That is because, above all things, the boy is gobsmacked, perhaps even a little enraged.

Therefore, Jeon Wonwoo’s lips are plain straight. No, if they were to smile, you would burst like a water balloon, sprinkling the earth in droplets of solace. But it is not solace you feel when his face finally cracks, when his eyes flare in smoky streaks that practically engulf your lungs with desolation.

There is a click in your mind, an instinct to clasp your palms to your stomach as Jeon Wonwoo points his chin toward the floor and swears. Your words are still echoing around the room, burrowing within couch cushions and empty coffee mugs. They are permanent reminders that will forever linger, steeping around your limbs and tugging softly at your clothing. They remind you that your life will never return to normal, if normal even existed to begin with, and that sometimes, life can only prevail if a mistake is there to kindle it.

He will not hurt me, you acquaint in the sealed tomb of your skull. He will not lay a finger on me even though he is confused and angry. Every syllable that ricocheted behind thick bone only amplified how your chest ached, like someone’s fist had enclosed around your heart, squeezing it while the organ beat frantically. His fingers carded in exasperation through sable black hair, a groan so deep and desponding spilling in fashion to liquor from his lips. Still, you knew he would never bruise your flesh out of anger, out of spite perhaps starting to brew. You are beautiful, and Jeon Wonwoo does not bruise beauty.

Instead, he leaves it.

You cannot sleep. Dreary bags of ash take refuge under your eyes, dragging at the skin, positively ruining it. The clock ticks close to you, a shallow serenade that doesn’t move you to turn your head, for the digits displayed would only purloin any happiness you had left. However, city lights twinkle before curtains too thin, the door to your very cramped and cigarette stained terrace split open just an inch. The sky has become a midnight canvas, the luminance glowing beneath the paint.

If sleep won’t grace you just as it graced thousands of other lamenting lives, you mine as well prosper in what’s unfolding. You part from a comforter that no longer smells of crisp cotton, bare feet halting before the terrace door to pull away curtains slick with dust. Your reflection is hazy in the glass, and it is also a familiar sight. It’s his eyes, how they ripple sleekly under moonlight, how they exude brightness before sunshine. They are gorgeous eyes, and when you used to see your reflection in them you would believe you were gorgeous too.

Things do change however, like the flip of a dime.

They were not sleek or bright when you stared into them that one morning, and your reflection was no longer gorgeous. So to capture a glimpse of yourself in the door, stomach slightly bulged like a melon and dark lavender marring below lashes was not a pleasant sight. You decided to erase it. The door creaked open, a fresh breeze patting in embrace along your figure, tinged with the smell of dew and the bustle of city life. Just as you thought, the sky was indeed a canvas, raveled in midnight sheets that poured with no end, adorned by light that gleamed from every slope in the near distance.

You sat in one of the two chairs near the banister, allowing your gaze to melt along a view that swiped the breath from your lungs every time. Absentmindedly, your palm grazed up your tummy, fingertips rumpling your large t-shirt. You hadn’t spoken to the innocent yet, in fact, you had primarily ignored it, even though it absorbed the same nutrients as you, listened to same tunes pervading from your record player, heck, it even sat through your annual The Office marathon. Inhaling a deep breath, you patted your stomach with a smile.

“Hello,” you lilted, trying to develop a warm strength to your voice, “we haven’t properly conversed yet, I’m, Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

A silence follows, and your lips curl.

“I guess I can’t ask for your name, you don’t exactly have one yet. Got any ideas?” Car engines plagued by rust grumble from the streets, tires speeding over damp pavement hover between your every silence. It prompts annoyance. You are trying to have a conversation.

“Don’t mind all the noise. I swear everyone is being especially loud tonight, and it’s only a Tuesday? Very disrupting I know, but back to the main subject. What was it again...?”

You question, a finger tracing the outline of your lips. “Oh yeah!” Then it’s spiraling back to you, your feet kicking into the air like a small child who’s never sat in a rocking chair before.

“We were discussing a name for you! What? Why are you asking me? I’m awful at names. If it were up to me I would name you after the first thing I see… like that airplane! Do you really want to be called Airplane?”

Anyone who might be hovering in terraces far up or down below would sip their nightly tea with an eyebrow knitted expression, their ears perking at the exuberance threaded through your tone. You are a neighbour usually so quiet, reclusive, and now that you snicker and howl into the gentle breeze of the night, you may have lost those qualities. It wasn’t like you would be sobbing over it, slipping little apology notes written in peach ink under everyone’s door so they could forgive you. They were bellows of amusement after all, laced with happiness.

The digits on your alarm clock were still bright, winding deeper with all your conversations that ceased to stop branching, and it was at this time you leaned back in your beach chair, palm cradled carefully over your stomach, that you told Airplane the story of you and Jeon Wonwoo.

“You deserve to know, Airplane.” You whispered. “You deserve to know at least a little about your father, about the man who helped bloom your pretty soul.”

And Airplane listened, through the poignancy that was thick like mud on your tongue, the limerence that fizzed at your fingertips whenever you would press in recognition to your stomach. Whoever Jeon Wonwoo was, he brought you a great deal of blithe. But he also turned the water that washed along your shore a dark, harrowing red, staining the sand like grapes mushed to make wine.

In fact, the story of you and Jeon Wonwoo did indeed commence with the colour red, for it was the colour that crackled off your cheeks that summer evening, sticking to the air so sweltering and hot.

But where it really commenced was the piercing shop.

“I’m telling ya, Y/N, this is the best place to get a piercing done. I mean look at all the shit I’ve got on my ears!”

Jeongyeon was your best friend and by far the most ecstatic of the bunch when you announced your interest in body jewerly. You figured she would be, since each shell on her ear was covered with miniature silver rings, even gold beads that cast twinkles when the sun hit them. Recently she’d taken a visit back to the shop, her hair the colour of raspberry tea requesting an urgent re-dye. But that wasn’t the sole thing she’d changed for the beginning of summer.

She came trotting up the beach with a glimmer reflected on her stomach, and you realized she’d gotten her belly button pierced.

Painful perhaps, you thought, but it looks nice.

And that was how you wound up in a sketchy brick building towards the edge of town, your thighs already adhering to the peculiar plastic coating on all the chairs. You were seated by the large window that showcased all the townsfolk ambling by, wide-rimmed sunglasses on the bridges of their noses while lemonade straws hung from the corners of their lips. Even in your tank top and shorts the heat was festering along your skin, so you and Jeongyeon dashed to chairs by the air conditioning.

“Okay, but who is gonna do my piercing? I don’t want any of the newbies your dad hired.”

Yeah, Jeongyeon’s dad owned the piercing shop, which explained how she could afford to dye her hair each colour that danced across the rainbow. There was perks for you as well, you got half off on your piercing. Not too shabby for your taste. But the raspberry haired girl was suddenly coiling, her brows pinched together.

“Yeah, about that, I think you might get a newbie. But!” She exclaimed before you could let a single word roll off your tongue. “If my suspicions are correct, there might be someone who isn’t so inexperienced. He might not want to though. When it’s his break he likes to sit on the roof and read. Start looking at the piercings over there, I’ll go look for him.”

Then she spun from her seat and disappeared up a staircase, leaving you to awkwardly peel your thighs from the chair and inspect the display of jewelry. Some were distinct in colour, others in style, size. It was no difficult task to dismiss those you would never wear in a million years; however uncertainty was simmering in your gut when you dwindled your options down to two perfect piercings. One being a silver crescent moon and the other a sun, pale in flecks of gold. You had no idea how long you stood there having a mental quarrel, but the world came gushing back to you when the sound of Jeongyeon’s heavy boots hit the tiles.

“Y/N! I found him!” Jeongyeon’s lilted voice dragged your inspection away from the counter, her smile grand in satisfaction as she hauled some boy along with an ironclad grip on his wrist.

And that was the first time you saw him, the first time you casted cherry glazed cheeks and star speckled eyes toward, Jeon-

“Wonwoo, his name is, Wonwoo.”

Holy shit clogged every nook of your skull, holy shit, holy shit, and holy shit. If you held convictions that the summer heat was bad, than the burn that glowed from Wonwoo’s stare was in every way worse. You were too occupied with singeing his facial structure before feathered lashes to notice his palm outstretched, a tilt pricking at the edge of rose plump lips. Jeongyeon was switching a watchful eye between you both, mentally counting each second that dripped by without your response. She was impressed, ten seconds of silence settled before you snapped.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You felt like a cheery housewife who was forced to act merry toward the neighbours she secretly envied, for the words pushed past gritted teeth and exploding pupils.

“I would say your name is pretty, but I have to say that to everyone.” He answered.

His palm was a cool embrace, soft, yet ever so slightly rough around the hills near his fingers. They were slender and hugged very nicely between your own, so much in fact you felt a stone of disappointment drop into your stomach when he pulled away. But whatever forlorn he imbued was quickly churned to dust when he spoke. You just about wilted to the floor.

Jeongyeon suddenly butted into the poorly held conversation.

“You could say she’s pretty instead, compliment a girl on something other than her name for once, Wonwoo.”

“I’m here to give her a piercing, not shower her in compliments.”

“Just admit you don’t like commitment.” Jeongyeon sneered with an eye roll, arms folding along her chest in a petulant manner. Hearing them bicker back and forth only gave you the pleasantry of listening to Wonwoo’s voice, reaching deep into forests thick with pine, sunlight hardly spluttering through gaps in bushy tree leaves, and since he was slightly agitated, it could do nothing but lower.

“I’ll admit I don’t like you. Stop pestering me and go elsewhere, get some iced tea, read a damn book. Just don’t be here.”

You wondered if Wonwoo was serious, for his eyes were darker than coal and his lips were twisted in the opposite of smile. But then his hand drifted atop Jeongyeon’s head, ruffling the raspberry strands while simultaneously heaving her away.

“Can I read your book?” She called from the staircase leading up to the roof top. Wonwoo stood next to you, getting ready to see what piercing you’d chosen, yet he cocked his head to bear pearly teeth at your best friend.

“Fine, but don’t lose my page number.”

“I wouldn’t dare to.” She was on the brink of leaving, but her head popped down one last time for a reminder that left your heart an unbridled drum.

“Make sure to tell Y/N she’s the prettiest girl in the whole universe!” The venomous words flowed in a sing-song tone, alerting the few customers dotting around to swivel their heads. There was really nothing to see as you lay your forehead into your palms atop the glass counter, flames tingling beneath the squishy flesh of your cheeks.

“She’s so embarrassing.” You gritted into your hands.

Wonwoo gazed upon you and blinked sincerely. He understood where you were coming from; he’d been friends with Jeongyeon for an ample portion of his life, and if she didn’t embarrass you once, it’s not crazy to speculate she doesn’t like you.

“You don’t have to say that by the way.” Wonwoo was silent as you unsheathed yourself from the burrow of your palms, eyes glossy and fingers tugging the hair from your cheeks. Now that he stood before you, under fluoresce beaming from the counter, could he conclude you were a strange one, sheltering emotions he couldn’t begin to grasp understanding of.

But Wonwoo found himself to be a strange person too, and sometimes friendship can only prevail if there is a similarity to kindle it.

“Hmm?”

“Like you don’t have to say I’m pretty. Not that it’s my decision to decide what you say, but I can understand how you would feel uncomfortable, ya know we just met and that’s weird right? It might be weird to call someone you just met pretty… But then that’s how some relationships start and it’s not like I’m a love guru or anything,”

Wonwoo studied the curve of your lips when you spoke, how your eyes flicked to different spaces in the room though he was right in front of you. His gaze lowered to your ring finger, how you tugged on it like it was encompassed in a Chinese finger trap. You were nervous.

“You talk a lot.” Wonwoo said simply, his elbow relaxed over the glass while his head titled ever so smugly to the side. Besides his voice, blood was apparent in rushing through your ears, your heart pounding relentlessly against a paper rib cage. You swallowed,

“You talk too little.”

It was a senseless remark that spilt off your tongue, a drastic impulse to reply in snide and not look so pathetic. A surge of magma was constructing in your stomach, melting your bones as Wonwoo slipped his elbow off the counter and took a step closer to you. Smooth collarbones were jutting from underneath milk skin, the faintest traces of makeup adorned to the creases of his eyes. Even if Wonwoo did not see the beauty that twined in abundance to your figure inside and out, he was still pretty, prettier than you could ever hope to be. He leaned forwards, his arm slipping past you to grab something on the counter.

You could not look away from the onyx pools that were taunting, dark like a midnight sky. His scent was in comparison to fresh blackberries, mild yet encompassing you all at once; toxic in the manner it possessed you to bite your tongue.

“Want a piercing or not?” Wonwoo dared to ask, voice treading deep roots around tense limbs.

“I want one.” An almost inaudible jingle of keys echoed from behind you, yet you did not turn your head even an inch to inspect. Wonwoo leaned forward even more so he could finally scoop the metal off the counter, his lips not hesitant in draining the perfect alignment of words by your ear.

“Then be good, okay pretty, Y/N?”

Chills had never swept down your spine so sharply.

When you could not make a decision between the moon piercing and the sun piercing, Wonwoo hefted a sigh. Both his elbows were positioned on the glass, chin cradled in cushiony palms as he observed you trace each millimetre of glitz.

“This is something you should do before dragging me from the roof.” He balked.

He unlocked the counter for you, allowing a better view at the jewerly that would soon be pierced through your navel. Looking at each of the velvet boxes up close certainly wasn’t aiding your situation.

“This was really last minute, okay?”

“You know you can change them right?”

“After it heals, and that takes how long?”

“Four to six weeks.”

You did not reply. Wonwoo rubbed his temples and bustled on to a different approach. He moved the velvet boxes until they were positioned between you, allowing a clear angle of the twinkles cast upon them.

“Why do you want the sun piercing?” He asked.

You chuckled wryly. “Cause it’s pretty.”

Wonwoo carded back the thick mop of charcoal on his head, eyes turned to tiny slits that seethed mock agitation toward your indecisiveness. You met his gaze with a timid shoulder shrug, laughter laced into your response.

“I answered your question!”

“That’s not what I meant.” Wonwoo huffed, fingernails tapping against the glass until he found a better way of elaborating. “You know how people get tattoos that symbolize stuff? Deaths, milestones, loved ones?”

“So you want symbolization? I really don’t wanna go back to The Merchant of Venice test sheets you know.”

The boy chuckled deeply, almost to himself, reminiscing on the pure hatred that brewed for the play after answering so many of its symbolism work sheets. His pink tongue suddenly appeared, wetting his bottom lip whilst he failed at trying to conceal a grin. You wished your heart would thwart its doings until it simply stopped beating. It could not keep up with deep voiced boy’s mannerisms.

“Shoot.” Wonwoo said.

“Well, I guess the sun makes me think of spring, and spring is about life rejuvenating, coming back stronger and more beautiful. So, I guess the sun, for me, symbolizes a new beginning.”

He nodded, eyes flickering from the golden sun back up to your lips, how they curled tenuously, so smooth and petal soft. He had never thought of things that way before. New beginnings, rejuvenation, it all sounded faulty on the ears, but he supposed you had a point. Wonwoo had just found life to be a continuous loop of tragedies. They were encased in lead bullets, perfectly shaped to inflict the pain that cracked from one person to another.

“As for the moon…” you pondered, reaching deep into your mind for an answer. While staring at the silver crescent you were unsure of what to think, bringing Wonwoo’s words to recall.

Deaths, milestones, loved ones.

And then your head turned ever so slightly, eyes trailing along the boy who kept an abundance of patience covert under porcelain skin and onyx pupils. For the first time, your gaze hovered along his whole appearance, from his black jeans, his black t-shirt, his black hair. He really had a thing for dark colours, so dedicated too, amongst the hot weather bubbling outside. Yet you preferred not be so cookie cutter to everyone else, only examining Wonwoo’s surface and not the layer underneath. And then, like the morning mist had cleared, you could see it all.

The hues of sable that were silk ribbons in his hair, lashes long wisps of honey grass that feathered in breezes so subtle it could only be night time. His plump lips held the shallowest slope, perfect for loading lethal whispers that could only amount to sin, drolly syllables aimed at open hearts. But who could miss those eyes, so lacquered and mystifying. If you gazed into them long enough, you could swear you were under a sky of stars in the middle of the day.

But what those stars were missing was the moon.

“Let’s go with the moon piercing.” You decided confidently.

“Hmm? What made you choose so suddenly, huh?” Wonwoo asked, unsure of what summoned your wide smile.

“I was just thinking about what the moon symbolizes.”

Wonwoo smirked. “And what’s that?”

But you were not willing to shed any light on your conviction. If Wonwoo wanted to know, then he would have to do what you had simply done. Look. Now you had adapted to Wonwoo’s earlier position, being as candor as you could while leaning up to his ear, whispering in a tone so sickly sweet it made the boy’s stomach somersault.

“Figure it out, pretty, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo thought you needed some form of solace. After all, you lied back in the parchment covered chair with such stiltedness he found his heart aching. He sat on his little stool, rolling it toward the counter to pull out a new pair of black plastic gloves. Your eyes were trained to the way they stretched around his fingers, and though your mind was reeling with every thought possible, you quickly concluded that no one else could look so good while doing so.

“Scared?” Wonwoo asked. He had a tray set next to him, a bottle of sterilizer sitting alongside some cotton pads. Your arms were flat at your sides, threatening to twitch.

“No.” Your reply came out more breathy than intended, encouraging the slight head shake Wonwoo turned to you with. Twiddling your feet, you finally caved.

“Maybe a little.”

“You’re not very good at hiding it.” He remarked, eyes flitting down your legs to examine your feet bobbing in an invisible breeze. You shouldn’t be this nervous, this fidgety. Yet the secret was anything but hidden. It was Wonwoo who imbued such quarrels upon you, not the piercing itself.

He was slow in reaching for the bottle of sterilizer. “Do you want me to get Jeongyeon?”

“No, I’m just overreacting I guess. I know it will only be a little pinch.” He was really not a large help in soothing your heart, the genuine care that was ardent in his tone of brass a dear enemy. Your chest felt swollen just by the soft glisten in his darkly shaded eyes, how he glanced at the hem of your tank top.

“If you insist. Mind pulling up your shirt a little for me?”

He could have said just a little, why did he have to add for me? It was stupid you were tracing those thoughts, but they were persistent in painting themselves along every nook of your skull. You were overwrought, swallowing thickly while exposing the strip of skin. Yet Wonwoo held the same glow in his eyes, the cotton pad fresh with sterilizer now gliding around your navel. Instinctively your fists clenched, and Wonwoo chuckled.

“Cold isn’t it?” He hummed; his form leaned over your stomach.

“I guess it’s nice since it’s burning outside.”

You seemed less tense when you spoke, and as Wonwoo continued his gentle manner of swirling the cotton pad, he ambled off more questions. He also figured you could distract yourself. He noticed you rambled a lot.

“Don’t like the heat?”

“It’s not that I hate it, it’s just overbearing, especially today. The canteens love it though. I caught them selling lemonade cups for 13 goddamn dollars. I bought one of course, or else I would have fainted before I even got here.” Wonwoo grinned while wetting another cotton pad. This much sterilization wasn’t necessary, but the lilt of your voice was pretty to listen to.

“You should go swimming then.”

“The beach is packed. Have you ever walked down there during the summer?”

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about the beach, Miss. Sassy.”

“Then what are you on about?” You wondered when he would finish with the bottle, with softly running the cotton around your navel. On the other hand it was calming the knocks against your chest, so maybe he should take his time.

But of course, Wonwoo proceeded to toss the pad in the garbage and quirk his lips at you.

“There’s a lake, stupid, if you follow Barley Street and don’t fork left, you’ll get a lake.”

You lifted your head from staring fuzzy dots at the ceiling and blinked toward the sable haired boy.

“Do you go there?”

He shrugged. “Quite frequently. Why? You wanna come with me next time?”

And then your head slammed right back down against the chair’s padding, cheeks already set ablaze with more than the sticky summer heat. Your tongue peaked quickly at your lips, tasting the lemonade you’d slurped like a madman earlier.

“You can go by yourself.”

Wonwoo grabbed the needle off his tray, smirking at the blatant tapping presented by your fingertips. He realized it was quite the riot teasing you, and that any aloof façade he pulled before people’s eyes had blinked away in an instant when it came to your tenuous smiles.

“Nah, it’s probably cause you can’t swim.”

“What!?” You barked in disbelief because that assumption was indeed false. Wonwoo had your moon piercing ready, staring at it one last time in puzzlement before leaning back over your stomach.

“I can swim just fine!”

“Prove it.” Wonwoo challenged.

“How so?” Your question was greeted with a placid sigh, one that tempted your nose to crinkle and fingers to absentmindedly clench. If Wonwoo ushered the words you were hoping to be conjured, you would simper so grandly that your cheeks would implode; your heart would feel so swollen that no amount of coaxing could calm it. You would itch to sprint home and bury your face in a plump pillow, bellowing away your elation.

So maybe it was a cleverly crafted idea for Wonwoo to convey the words while piercing your navel.

“What do you think? I’m asking your dumb, pretty face to go to the lake with me.”

For once he had pulled away with a grin concocted of malice and blithe, you were whining sharply. Yet it was just a pinch, a tiny, tiny pinch.

“You were right,” he beamed, “just a pinch.”

You sat up, eager to glaze upon the jewelry adorned to your stomach. It was pretty, and it symbolized ever so perfectly the twinge nestled behind the cherry walls of your heart.

“Yeah, it was just a pinch.” You drawled, still fawning over its soft glitter. Then your gaze was twinkling up, meeting in full bloom with Wonwoo’s eyes that portrayed the milky constellations above.

“And, yeah, I guess I’ll go to the lake with you, pretty Wonwoo. Or should I say Wonwoo that is pretty dumb.” You giggled, sticking out your tongue.

He picked you up at lunch in his Mercedes. No, it wasn’t an expensive car with a grey glitter coating and rims so polished you could perfect your eyeliner in them, it was more like about-to-be scrap metal that a barbecue dad would snatch for six-hundred bucks. You were sat on the stoop leading up to your porch when the cream coloured vehicle rumbled to a stop on the curb.

Wonwoo leaned over and pushed the door open for you, flashing a smile that decorated his plump lips of rose. You must have been quite the sight, wrapped in your sunset coloured beach towel, tongue flicking at your wrist as you tried to savour every drop of your watermelon popsicle. Sunglasses were perched on the top of your head, yet they only remained because if you attempted to tug them out a heap of hair would follow suit.

“Get your ass in the car!” Wonwoo shouted, beckoning you over with the air conditioner ruffling his up-do.

“Yikes, I’m coming. Let me finish this first!” You shouted back, eyeing the generous amount of popsicle that had yet to be swallowed. Wonwoo seemed like the type to bark a stream of never ending warnings not to get sticky juice all over his cheap ass leather seats and dash, so you did what anyone would do.

“How clever of you.” He remarked as you slid into the car, tossing your bag into the backseat. Your mouth felt encompassed in a cold burn, turning the delicate flesh numb and jabbing icicles into your brain. You tried to mumble a response, but it came out as the most incoherent thing ever spoken, the taste of watermelon drilling without mercy into your teeth. The sable haired boy set one hand on the wheel and slowly applied pressure to the pedal, his clearly expensive Mercedes now gliding down the street. Yet he feathered the brakes ever so gently when you rolled the window down and hung your head out, his brow quirking when globs of pink could be seen from the rear-view mirror.

“That was… Attractive.” Wonwoo mumbled, his hand disappearing into the glove compartment to fetch you a tissue.

“I’m glad you perceived it that way. Never again will I take my chances and try to deep throat nearly a whole popsicle. Some risky shit, almost lost my teeth.” You heaved while cleaning up your chin.

Wonwoo etched the air conditioning down and kept his eyes on the road, his deep laughter pervading the snug space of the car. “That would be an even more attractive sight.”

“Concurred.” You said with a grin.

So what did you learn about Wonwoo?

For starters, you learned there was a Jeon to his name, thus unraveling the annoyance he was soon to bear when you would cease to stop calling him that. You were both set to attend college once summer fizzled to an end, and you masked your excitement that he picked the same place as you.

He worked part time as a mechanic aside from his hours spent at the piercing shop, under the keen eye of his uncle who held wishes that Wonwoo would take over the business.

“I just fix engines, do some retouching on paint jobs, and tell the old ladies that their AC isn’t working because they pressed fog lights instead. Intense right?”

You fought with winding the sunglasses out of your hair. “Very. I don’t know how you manage to pull it off.”

Wonwoo’s thumb tapped against the dark leather of the steering wheel, his shoulders rippling in a shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know either.”

It was a sworn secrecy to never expose how your heart crackled at the thought, the appeasing view of Wonwoo in his mechanics jumper with the sleeves rolled up, grease smeared at the elbows and maybe a tiny dot on his nose. You pressed your lips together while staring out the window, observing the tan coloured buildings smear into a long strip of fuzz as your destination dawned closer. He would probably swear a lot, his willowy complexion set aglow with sweat as he accidentally burned his finger or screwed up something mechanical that you couldn’t possibly name.

You could envision him stuck underneath some grimy pick-up, firing every swear word off his tongue like a bullet, but then turn around and showcase his soft smile to an elderly lady who needed help with her air conditioning. The more you tortured yourself with the idea of mechanic Wonwoo, the more your insides melted in fashion to the popsicle left on the pavement, your cheeks feeling ripe and rosy.

What if I were his girlfriend? You randomly thought, already piecing together the heartfelt scene of bringing him lunch on his break, holding his chin ever so gently in your fingers as you wiped away the dirt and grease. His eyes that were so sleek and capable of imbuing fear within midnight would turn tender, glossy, his arms coiling around your waist and head snuggled against your stomach as you soothed him through a sweltering and irritable day. As Wonwoo forked to the left off Barley Street, he caught your tiny smile, the way locks of hair danced uncoordinatedly by your cheeks, instilling the epitome of sweet and peachy. Your lips were blooming bright in bubble gum, their smooth qualities beaming under sunlight spilt through the window.

“Whatchya smiling about?” Wonwoo posed, quickly gluing his eyes back to the road. Poignancy ballooned is his stomach when your voice became a ginger lull in his ears. He just wished he had of seen the curl to those lips as you spoke.

“You helping frail old ladies after swearing up a storm under a truck.”

The road dusted from dirt to bumpy gravel, trees beginning to paint emerald scenery through the windows of Wonwoo’s Mercedes. When you gazed out past the dash, you could catch glimmers of azure blue stretching wider and wider, dotting among tree trunks and blueberry bushes.

“It happens.” Wonwoo chided. The lake was growing before his eyes, every air freshener looped around his rear-view mirror bouncing due to the gritty roads. You had finally twisted the sunglasses out of your hair and tossed them on the dashboard when the vehicle rumbled to a halt, your jaw loosening in an ecstatic gasp.

“Holy shit, you have this place all to yourself?” You gushed after whipping your bag out of the backseat and shutting the car door. Wonwoo padded around to rest against the cream hood with you, letting his charcoal irises fleck across the lake and its dark blue beauty. Trees towered like skyscrapers around the water, shielding its glaze from anyone who didn’t suffer from wanderlust, anyone who didn’t crave the taste of pure sunshine and dew droplets on their tongue. Wonwoo cocked his head to stare at you, how the breeze drifted stray hairs to curl and twist. He even noticed the peculiar bump placed at the top of your head, and held in his chuckle at realizing it was a mark from your sunglasses.

He didn’t think when his fingers stretched out to smoothen it, garnering your wide-eyed stare.

“A few other people know about it, but I’m here the most often.”

You swallowed. How could someone look so gentle, so enchanting while conveying such a simple gesture. Something scorched up your neck and threaded hotly through your veins, making the mist that blew off the water appear like a snack to munch on.

“That lump would have fixed itself if we got in the water.” You simpered.

Then Wonwoo booped your nose, he fucking booped it.

“Maybe I just wanted to touch your hair.” He commented slyly. You bit the inside of you cheek.

“Was it at least soft?”

Then the sable haired boy had the audacity to grin, your heart smashing into your stomach when he began peeling off his shirt.

“Not really.”

You squinted in mock disdain toward him, mustering your every ounce of control to not bombard his lithely toned chest in swooning stares. To distract yourself you began copying Wonwoo, tossing your sunset orange towel to lie atop his Mercedes’ hood, kicking off your slip-ons with unnecessary vigor. For some reason, a simple mid summers drive to the lake turned into a competition of who could scramble down the sand faster, who could allow the cool balm of the water to wrap around their limbs first. Your toes met with the foam just before victory when you felt something sturdy clutch your shoulders, Wonwoo’s form sailing above you before he crashed into the water.

His impact sent you stumbling forward, until nothing but blue swirled around you and the slight taste of moss branded your mouth.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Water formed in a tiny spout flowing past your lips, bringing Wonwoo to warble without a care in the world.

“It was a race wasn’t it? I won.”

You pushed away the heavy hair curtaining over your eyes, sunlight splashing like gold paint along each ripple of azure. It was almost as though you were trapped in a painting, an image so lush and vibrant in colour sculpting the land. A belated reply finally poured through Wonwoo’s ears along with the water he knocked out of them.

“What if you screwed up and took my head off? Bet you would feel like such a champ then, huh?” You seethed back, though in reality, your lividness was wearing thin, hardly sustained as you wallowed in the beauty Wonwoo had kept to himself. Until today that is. The sable haired boy followed your gaze, knowing it was not gleaming at him, but the nature greeting you on all sides. Droplets were rolling off the tip of your nose, fingers stretching absentmindedly through soft peaks in the water. The sunlight seemed to like you, for it always brought a glossy flare to your lips, reflecting speckles of luminesce in your eyes.

“Ah, Y/N,” Wonwoo hums while treading toward you with his usual smirk, “I would never hurt you; never leave a single scar on any pretty part of you.”

Yes, Wonwoo says you are pretty. And he is not wrong.

Your lashes flutter when he floats around you, his nose just peaking above the surface. Flush tones of ruby coat your cheeks, his words cooed in a voice deeper than tree roots can knot themselves. You do not fare well under his midnight eye flitting, the way he attempts at circling you.

“You shouldn’t call just any girl pretty.” You remark, lowering yourself into the water yearning to protect you from the sun. “Dangerous stuff.”

Wonwoo managed to drift right behind you, his stare scorching up your back that glistened in clear droplets, to the string around your neck that ties up your bikini. He wonders how supple your skin is to touch, if it glides under his fingers like pearls and silk. You would probably smack him if he traced an innocent little line down your shoulder blade with his finger, though if he had you, he would not hesitate in doing so.

“I’m not calling just any girl pretty, I’m calling you pretty. I’ll take it back if it winds you up that much.”

He is met with your body whipping around, raindrops from your hair splashing his cheeks. You curl your lips at him, feigning innocence and everything sweeter than syrup. That is until you push water into his face, and Wonwoo’s nose is crinkling in the manner you adore so dearly.

“I’m just saying if you use it too much, it’ll loose meaning.”

Wonwoo cards the sable out of his lashes, fingers tangled in the thick strands and leaving them to stick up quite cutely. “Cocky. Are you expecting me to compliment you?” He splashes you back.

“No,” you cough, “it’s just a life lesson.” Hesitance does not mar you as your arm slaps across the glittery blue, wetting him in return. Wonwoo waddles along the squishy banks of sand beneath him, already preparing his next assault.

“Also,” you pipe up, “I can swim, so in your stupid face.”

“You’ve just stood there so far, not really swimming involved.”

“Cause if I try you’ll splash me!”

“Don’t act like you didn’t start it.”

“What?” You exclaim, jaw beginning to slack. “You practically yippee ki-yayed your way over my shoulders, so the blame is on you.”

“You’re just a bit feisty, Y/N. Anything getting under your skin lately?” You try to dodge his attack that is more than expected, but still end up with the taste of moss in your mouth.

“Maybe I’m just like that naturally, you assuming son of a bi-“

You do not get the opportunity to finish before Wonwoo splashes you again, and your cackles are swallowing the open warmth that basks the whole lake, slithers up the rocky cliff sides scattered about, and bustles amongst lime tree leaves. Time does not wait for you to stop floating like starfishes atop liquid linen, nor does it pause for even a moment when you cannonball off the rock jutting between oak trunks. It is continuous, ticking and ticking, though either you or Wonwoo are potent with enough care to disrupt your laughter.

He learns that you work part time at the florist shop in the centre of town, an abundance of your shift going toward grooming the petunias or watering the calla lilies. You tell him that you your boss gave you jean overalls to wear, and at first, you despised them. (His mouth remains shut even when his mind soars with images of you gardening in them, looking inexplicably adorable with dirt smeared cheeks he just wants to cup.) But then your mother cuffed the legs for you, she bought a sheer white t-shirt for you to sport underneath. He chuckles when you tell him about the snacks you keep hidden in their deep pockets, your face lighting up as relay your enjoyment while snipping the dahlias.

He keens to know more as you stride up the bank, fuzzy blotches of peach dotting the sky. You smile toward the ground when Wonwoo wraps you nice and snug in a towel burrito, his thumb brushing the liquid beads off your nose as your heart claps like thunder. You say there isn’t much more to spill about the flower shop, and you can’t help but study his pouty lips.

“Why are you so interested?”

“Y/N, I’ve been listening to conversations about spark plugs and transmission mufflers for what feels like a decade. I don’t mind hearing about the daffodils you watered for eight seconds.”

So you tell him, and his heart beats unprecedentedly fast the whole time.

Jeongyeon’s head of raspberry tea pops through the hatch in the rooftop, lips separating to coo for Jeon Wonwoo.

“Dad wants you to come sterilize the needles.”

He does not budge from his sprawled position across the dingy couch, a book propped over his face, though Jeongyeon recognizes the cover as one he’s read a million times, each word long encrypted into his brain. She calls again more sternly, her boot stamping against the rooftop. His eyes flit over for a second of examination before he spurns her to translucence, the gruff sigh that breaches his ears a common one.

He is oddly indolent, yet Jeongyeon does not think it is odd at all. She has known Wonwoo since playground escapades and the purloining of chocolate chip cookies; therefore she is well aware of his lackluster responses.

“Okay,” she huffs, lifting up Wonwoo’s gangly legs to sit comfortably on the couch, and supposes her father will have to wait, “why so glum, chum?” She still has no clue how Wonwoo was able to maneuver the patchy blue thing to the roof, but solving that mystery was for another day. When his reply is slow to dribble like molasses, she plucks the book out of his grasp and gets a responsive grunt.

“What have I told you about grabbing my shit?” He snaps in his brass tone, snatching it back.

“I’m just trying to get your attention! You’ve been quiet all day, and I have my suspicions.” She quips in return, her stomach churning at his unexpected aggressiveness. Wonwoo didn’t mean to dampen her spirits, but he was sorting through musings in his head, pinpointing the flame that kindled the ache in his chest.

The boy’s head hits the arm of the couch, the spread of grey cotton across the sky cancelling any sunshine. But the lack of cheery light is not his reason for acting slightly petulant and intoned, and Jeongyeon frowns as he pushes his wavy fringe back with a sigh.

“It’s her.” Wonwoo mumbles, sounding like a poet who is suffering poignancy and imbued with forlorn. Jeongyeon pats his leg, an image already swallowing her mind.

Her voice is delicate as she answers. “Y/N?”

Wonwoo bites his lip, practically lacerating the puffy flesh with his ivory fangs. A hand falls behind his head, propping his stare from the ashy sky to Jeongyeon’s sympathetic glow. There is a twinge lodged in his chest, feeling like a corkscrew that twists and twists without resistance.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” Wonwoo pauses, “about her, about anyone.”

“What happened?” Jeongyeon prompts, unable to halt her brows from furrowing. Maybe this is odd the way he’s acting. His eyes are usually so vacant in coatings of midnight black, but now they shimmer uncertainly, like they are wavering on emotions he does not comprehend. His fingers clutch in random spurs at sable spun hair, pulling subtly but enough to keep his mind grounded with Jeongyeon.

“We just hang out a lot now,” Wonwoo utters, repressing thoughts of the black hole that is college, how in less than two weeks he’ll have start more work, “and she’s making it really painful.”

Jeongyeon pursed her lips, fingers toying with the rip at Wonwoo’s kneecap. “Is she hitting you?”

“No…” Wonwoo manages to chuckle, tugging at his hair again. “It’s just the things she does.” His stare flickers straight back up to the sky, how it’s dreary, drowsy qualities reflect his mind turning to mush. His masochist of a brain wanders to the last time you hung out, every miniscule detail that crafts your presence triggering the jerk in his heart, how it slams without shame into his ribcage. He remembers it all, though it’s a pain the whole way through. Wonwoo catches Jeongyeon glance up too, and in that moment his lips spill like a waterfall.

“Fuck, her giggles are so cute, the way her cheeks get all squishy and how her hair falls around her face. I can tell when she’s trying to hold in her laughter, don’t know why, maybe she thinks it sounds weird, but it’s like music to my ears. Then there are her eyes which sparkle, they fucking sparkle, and when she stares at me I can hear my own heartbeat. Maybe that’s a health problem, I don’t know.”

Jeongyeon blinks down at him, the boy who is known for being impassive and cold, wearing a dark flint in his irises and a crook on his lips. She hasn’t seen such a sporadic look mapped along his features since elementary school, when they would ride their bikes through the forest trail and haul up pant legs by the stream. His voice is fluttering in different cadences, and the fingers woven through sable hair continuously fidget. Jeongyeon has never seen Wonwoo like this, her face as still as marble.

“You know those overalls she wears?”

Jeongyeon nods and Wonwoo bites his lip again.

“They’re so pretty on her, plus the worn out sneakers she has and the way she pulls her hair back. She isn’t aware of it, but she hums when she gardens, makes me wanna take her cute face and kiss her on her pretty lips, on her cheeks and her nose and her forehead. I just wanna sit her down and kiss the fuck out of her, ya know? Maybe run my fingers through her hair, tickle her thighs, buy her snacks, anything.”

At this point Wonwoo’s chest feels swollen and the crimson rushing through his ears is overpowered by an electric heartbeat. The world above him that is grey like winter slush and hollower than each crater on the moon has become a little brighter, yet it is you that made things appear that way, and not the clouds beginning to disperse. His lower lip is sore from each drag of his teeth, yet it does not register within Wonwoo’s mind. He continues to chew it, to take advantage of its plumpness as his eyelids encompass themselves in portraits of you.

Jeonyeong’s throat is dryer than sandpaper, the raspberry hair feathering her lashes a mere pebble compared to the boulder of information she just heard. She always teased Wonwoo about being afraid of commitment, every girlfriend he brought in and out of the piercing shop never hearing him utter the three sacred words that could permanently seal a relationship. They always left, yet he never seemed bothered. Then again, he had never spoken about any of them in the manner he just spoke about you.

“You know,” Jeongyeon said while gulping, “the first time you met her, and you didn’t wanna drop a single compliment. Now look at you.” Then she found a curl embrace her lips, turning their straight expression into a smile. “Kinda sounds like you lo-“

Wonwoo shot up from the couch, cupping a palm around her mouth. “You won’t tell her a single fucking word of this.” He growled. “And don’t say the L word either.”

Jeongyeon yanked his arm away, her eyes two pools of cocoa. “You have to tell her if you feel this way, don’t let her get away! Commitment isn’t always a bad thing you pussy.”

He ignored his best friend, threading a loose grip around her wrist and forcing their gazes to meet. “You will not say a word to her, understand?”

And Jeongyeon cracked, finally carding the hair from her lashes. “I understand your royal wimp.” She cackled, but not without getting a forehead flick from Wonwoo and his faint pink cheeks.

Your hands cupped the dark clay of the flower pot for the tenth time, turning it an inch more to the right and bobbing the flowers that sat brightly in the soil. Then you stood back on your knees and tapped a finger against your chin, examining their new position in the floral shop’s front window. It was difficult to tell which position looked better since you weren’t standing outside, but luckily, there was someone here who could assist you with that.

“Jeon Wonwoo!” You sang, getting up from your knees and dusting off your overalls. The boy sat on the counter, next to the register with a pink bubble blowing from his lips. It popped when he turned his head from the floral magazine in his hands, his curious gaze shifted from the glossy pages to melt over you.

“Will you do me a favour?” You entreated, swaying back and forth on the balls of your old sneakers. Sunshine splashed through the window and poured along your hair in a sumptuous shine, making it nearly impossible for him to ignore you.

“What would that be?” He responded while sliding off the counter, not bothering to mark his place in the magazine he’d been scanning. Maybe it wasn’t the magazine he was looking at in the first place.

“Can you go stand outside for a sec and tell me how these hibiscus flowers look? I’m trying to find their best angle.” You gestured toward the cream yellow flowers that sprang up from their pot, tiny dots of hot pink placed in the centre. They all looked the same to him, and he assumed they would look no different from outside the shop, but he’s learnt not to assume when it comes to you, so he chewed his bubble gum and headed into the summer warmth. He spared a quick glance at you through the glass, how your hands lie atop your hips as you scanned the flowers with a pinched brow.

He just spotted the fruit snack package peaking from the pocket of your overalls, and it made him smile. You were too cute for your own good.

“What is he smiling about out there?” You asked yourself as Wonwoo examined the flowers. “What’s so funny about a damn hibiscus plant?”

He gave you a thumb up through the window, but you mouthed for him to stay outside a little longer. In a flash you were back to swivelling the flower pot, and Wonwoo could only blow another pink bubble while shaking his head. Yet he kept his mouth shut and pulled off the best acting of his life, even taking a few steps back and cocking his head to perceive their bright colours better. People strutting past offered amused glances, grinning to themselves or their accomplice while the last week of summer drawled onward.

You rested your hands on your hips again and stifled your dorky grin as Wonwoo leaned forward and squinted, creating an inconvenience for townsfolk ambling by. He looked quite nice that day, for his sable locks weren’t swept away from his forehead, but nice and fluffy in settling by his brows, creating an appearance that’s soft in lieu of intimidating. He had a loose grey sweater on, the sleeves bunched up to his elbows and its collar exposing fields of milk skin around the shoulders.

It was one of those days where you pretended your adoration for him was latent, hardly in bloom as he swung his legs cutely at the counter and pointed out all the flowers he liked. The stupid smell of his bubble gum followed you everywhere, sweet and sugary, thwarting you from concentration and preluding each lick of your lips.

Speaking of lips, you often wondered about Wonwoo’s. How they appeared silkier than some of the flower petals that lined the shop, how they always remained smooth and pink like roses. You sometimes wondered how they would taste, and you guaranteed that if you pulled him in by the collar and kissed him, bubble gum would explode quite delightfully in your mouth.

You eventually allowed him to come inside, and he approached you with a pinch to the stomach.

“Ow! What was that for?” You sulked though butterflies feathered your stomach, the stupid smell of bubble gum swarming you once again.

“Punk, making me stand outside for who knows how long just to put them back where they were originally.” He growled without malice, eyes twinkling playfully before he squeezed your side one last time. Your giggles were like stardust being shaken in a jar, so light and pretty Wonwoo craved to tickle you forever if it meant hearing them in a mantra. Yet he knew how fast they could develop into full blown cackles if the right joke were said, which was usually when you attempted to muffle yourself.

“I needed a second opinion, don’t act so salty.” You beamed back. Then, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the package of fruit snacks, giving them an enticing jitter.

“Share to make you feel better?”

Wonwoo blew one last bubble with his gum before giving a nod.

“… Okay.”

So, together, you made your way to the garden outback and sat in front of the owner’s prized chrysanthemum patch, your fingers plying open the plastic and letting the colourful gummies tumble into Wonwoo’s palm. He had to throw his gum out, and you thought it was impressive he’d been chewing it since your morning arrival at the florist shop. You said you could buy him a whole pack, but he dismissed your offer, flashing you a coy smile while revealing the tiny container slipped up his sleeve.

“I took inspiration from your overall stash.” He purred, looking pleased with himself. Your hand lifted to Wonwoo’s head, fingers winding invisible ribbon through the dark strands while he threw his fruit snacks down the hatch.

“I feel so honoured.” You murmured, ruffling them without thought, a burst of strawberry washing the inside of your mouth. The boy stole a glance toward your complexion he adored to the moon and back, obsidian pupils curving along your wispy lashes and the slope of your nose. He traced the bump of your lips that were supple in a coat of watermelon chapstick, the hairs that were so incredibly thin along your cheeks being highlighted under the sun. He observed the way your feet twiddled, how skin peeked between rips in your pale blue overalls. His heart was aching again for some reason, and he pretended not to know why.

“You know what would be fun?” He heard you usher softly, the last fruit gummy popped onto your tongue. Your fingers pulled away from Wonwoo’s scalp, and he inwardly groaned, yet the disappointment was replaced with his deep chuckle.

“Tell me. What would be fun, Y/N?” Wonwoo felt his heart skip a beat when you scooped a lock of hair behind your ear, knees tugged against your chest as you eyed the chrysanthemum’s protruding their orange warmth. He could tell you were biting the inside of your cheek, pondering over the words caked behind your lips. Wonwoo peeled his gaze from you, and studied the flowers in similar fashion, the euphony of your voice becoming quieter, more sentimental. The usual summer breeze swept across the garden, an occasional petal fluttering high into the eggshell blue sky before settling back down to earth.

“Coming here with your kids, letting them run around the different gardens and take in all the sweet smells and colours. When I was younger, my mom got me an orchid seed and though she had to remind me a lot, I learned to take care of it. When it began growing, and actually blooming, I almost pissed myself.”

Wonwoo bit his lower lip while your voice trickled dulcetly through his ears, casting the faintest peachy glow to prickle along his porcelain cheeks. When you suggested the idea of something fun, he certainly wasn’t prepared to envision children scampering around the back gardens, stuffing their noses in the alluring petals and sniffing the pollen until they couldn’t stop coughing. Yet his lips still sprung at the mention of it, maybe because you felt it would be a precious moment, and that made the moment feel precious to him too.

“I looked after that orchid like my life depended on it. I watered it, left it in the sunshine. I played it fucking nature sounds at night, like creek water rushing between rocks and tree leaves rustling.” You laughed to yourself, sneaker scuffing over the ground.

“I think I named it something too. But I suck at names, so I named it after the first thing I saw, which was a dragonfly. Can you believe that, an orchid named Dragonfly?”

Wonwoo flicked his pupils after a flower petal rippling through the wind, how it spiralled in slow patterns down to burrow among the stone walkway. It was dark blue, and stood out like a sore thumb compared to the grey swathing around it. A pitiful sight that is, Wonwoo hummed in his head, something so beautiful by itself. His mind began thinking about the moon, and how strange it would look if the stars didn’t exist to accompany its glow of ivory. He was almost tempted to go pick the petal up and place it among a company much more welcoming than lifeless grey, but he repressed himself, and shrugged his shoulders.

“I can believe it actually. Sounds like a Y/N thing. You probably cried when it died, right?”

Wonwoo teased as the moon and stars plot floated at the back of his head.

“Of course, you know me well Jeon Wonwoo. So anyways, I was being a sulky baby over Dragonfly the orchid, sobbing to my mom all the things I could have done better to keep it alive. But she said that life could hurt sometimes, and that it was necessary in developing a dynamic character. Hard to believe at first, but sure enough I noticed a sprout pop up in Dragonfly’s soil some time afterward. I got two Dragonfly’s instead of one, and now that I had a second chance, I looked after them even better than before.”

You cocked your head in Wonwoo’s direction to come across his eyes glazed with their usual midnight lacquer. It was refreshing, similar to plunging off the cliff side at the secret lake and having a sudden coolness embrace your limbs. Charcoal fringe was mingling with his lashes, so you raised a ginger hand to swipe it away, lightly carding it back until his forehead shone through for a hot second. You were ready to indulge in another babbling spree when Wonwoo caught your wrist, his fingers pressing gently into the flushed skin and skyrocketing a heartbeat that was a timid slumber only a moment before.

“So your orchids were like your new beginning?” He questioned.

You smiled bashfully. “Yeah, they were now that I think of it.”

Silence began filling the gaps between you, birdsong and the buzz of bumblebees not registering in either of your ears.

“You remember the day you got your piercing?” Wonwoo asked out of the blue, his eyes never parting from your wrist. You quirked an eyebrow and swallowed a subtle breath, praying he couldn’t detect the pulse booming through every inch of you.

“Of course.”

“And you remember leaning in real close, whispering to me, telling me to figure out what the hell that moon piercing meant?”

“Mmhm.”

How could you forget, you had that day stored in a mental file, the day you met pretty Jeon Wonwoo. Nerves bubbled together like a chemistry mix in your stomach as you thought of how the silver crescent was still placed in adorning to your navel, elegant and flashy as always. You had known what it meant since the day you compared it’s qualities with the sable haired boy, yet you let him simmer with the unknown conviction. You couldn’t deny that it frightened you, that he may hold knowledge of the adoration that bloomed for him since day one.

Many sounds were barking around you, tree leaves rustling in unison, children gleefully laughing from tracing chalk outlines on the street, wind chimes tinkling in the near distance. Yet you could near none of it, not one measly little squeak. And it was all because of him. Jeon Wonwoo.

He leaned in close to you, the familiar tinge of blackberries that always hovered on his skin pervading your senses. Your wrist was practically shaking then, tremoring as his thumb stroked softer than a feather in an attempt to calm your frantic pulse. Burying yourself into the crust of the earth seemed like a fabulous idea as his lips so plump and delicate brushed against your ear’s cusp, deep voice vibrating from his chest and melting smoother than chocolate along your skin.

“Y/N, do you like me?”

Your body froze. Then it burst into flames. And then it froze again with every lick of heat sealed tight inside your chest, your limbs. When you invited Wonwoo to laze around the florist shop, you hadn’t planned for this whatsoever. And now your face was scorching, crackling without control.

“You’ll have to be more specific.” You breathed between quivering lips, your wrist most definitely shaking.

Suddenly Wonwoo pulled away, his free hand not marred by any hesitance to cup your cheek that almost burnt his palm. There his eyes were again, two midnight pools encompassed in stars.

And all they needed was a moon.

“You like making things harder on yourself, dontchya pretty baby?” Wonwoo crooned, his thumb painting just below your lower lip, tempted to pull down the soft flesh and smudge the rough pad with watermelon chapstick. You blinked directly into his stupid sparkly eyes and nodded, crumbling faster than teacake.

“Yeah, kinda.”

And then Wonwoo’s head fell to face his lap and he chuckled, the grip on your wrist faltering so he could thread his thick onyx strands back. He thought back to the rooftop of the tattoo parlour, to the dreary afternoon spent aching on the couch. Jeongyeon’s words hadn’t stopped chasing him, whacking him over the head without mercy. And there he was, sitting across from you before patches and patches of silk flowers and mirthful honeybees, sweet smells encasing the breeze and curling stray tendrils of your hair. He wanted you, so inconceivably bad that he couldn’t bear to laugh in disbelief to himself.

“Is this a good time for me to say something cheesy?” He heard you utter quietly, your pupils bloated wider than any galaxy and voice wrapped in tenaciousness. Wonwoo readjusted his palm on your cheek and grinned.

“Shoot.”

You hesitated at first, resistance and fear pooling like syrup into your gut, however it had been collecting for ages at the back of your mind, not willing to disappear. “We’re both sort of incomplete. You have all the stars but no moon, and I have the moon,” you looked toward your stomach, where your crescent was pierced, “but no stars.”

You turned your head to the side and blew out a breath of embarrassment. “God, this is so cringy, I don’t wanna say it.” The Sahara Desert had practically inhabited your face, sweltered up your neck. Wonwoo’s stare was soft, cool, yet you couldn’t face him directly.

“Well you are saying it.” Wonwoo quipped, brushing back your hair. “It’s just me, okay? Now spill.” He motivated with a pout, giving your cheek a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m basically saying we complete each other…” You spluttered out, heart abusing your ribcage so ferociously you feared it may crack like glass. Wonwoo’s palm fell from your cheek and curled into his lap, and he didn’t gain consciousness until you stood from the bench and threaded your fingers through his collar, shaking him. You had just shovelled such a grand amount of torture and weight off your shoulders, confessing boldly to the grumpy boy you met at the piercing shop, and his reaction was blander than flour. So maybe you felt a little bit riled.

“Okay I said it you stupid oaf! Are you happy, are you gonna go prance around to kingdom come and buy a megaphone to shout it to the streets?! I say my stupid, cringy, cheesy line and this is the reaction I get? You don’t even know, you don’t even have a clue as to how much I like yo-“

And then Wonwoo shot up from his seat, gripped you by the straps of your overalls, and tasted the sweet gloss on your lips for the first time. He kissed you.

He kissed you on that bench, surrounded by flaming chrysanthemums and every other flower you named so prettily but he could never remember, he kissed you until the sky replaced its eggshell blue with soft lavender, nipping and tugging and sucking until your lips were numb and your fingers couldn’t seek the exit from the maze of his charcoal locks.

Jeon Wonwoo had kissed you.

It was not responsible to distract Wonwoo when he worked, when the teal hood of a car was propped up and he plucked at grungy looking things that resided underneath it. You sat on a stool by the work bench, next to an array of shiny wrenches and wires twisting from weird box type mechanisms. He told you at least a million times to keep your dainty hands in your lap and not touch anything littering the table. When you provoked him with the consequences, he simply shook his head and smirked, returning to his work. Without much to do you repeated flattening out your skirt, tying and untying the laces of your worn out sneakers.

His voice echoed around the garage, alerting you that he was almost finished with fixing up the car’s engine and that you could go out and eat together.

“You’re washing up first.” He heard you balk, “As hot as you look with your hair pushed back and the occasional smear of grease on your cheek, we’re not going to some restaurant like that.”

Wonwoo’s head popped up, the back of his hand swiping along his forehead. “We can just order take-out, baby?” And then he was back to twisting and tugging things, a hand grabbing the light hung from the ceiling to brighten certain nooks and crevices. As much as you basked in sitting down and munching comfortably in each other’s presences, you hadn’t dug deep into your closet for a pretty lilac blouse and cream skirt just to laze around in them.

“C’mon, I put on this whole getup and spent an eternity smoothing out knots from my hair in the shower. I used up the last of my apricot conditioner! We definitely need to go out.” Yet your whining was squandered when you realized Wonwoo wasn’t listening, his eyes trained to fiddling with something deeper into the car’s hood.

Suddenly a crackle seared around the garage, your body instinctively flinching as Wonwoo’s hand shot from underneath the hood, his fingers waving about.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He hissed, throwing his head back and pacing around the room. It was then you noticed a slight red mark on the side of Wonwoo’s hand as he darted to shut off the car, the key yanked from the ignition. Your mouth fell open, but any words spoken were drowned out when he slammed the car’s hood down and released another string of curses from under his breath. If your relationship were just in the beginning stages, you would have cowered slightly, whispering at your heart to relax, but it had come quite a long way, and you knew his anger wasn’t directed at all toward you.

“That hurt like a bitch.” He growled.

A sigh tumbled from your lips as you slid off the stool, retrieving the first aid kit among the clutter of Wonwoo’s work bench. He sat on the car’s hood, feet resting on the bumper while he carded thick locks back with slender fingers. He didn’t bother looking up when you approached him, yet he was forced to do so anyways with the glide of soft fingertips under his chin, holding the bone ever so carefully while you tugged free some cleansing wipes.

“You always tell me to be careful when you’re the one who ends up getting hurt. Now I have a puppy with a burnt hand. Tsk, tsk.” You murmured while decorating your lips with a smile, hoping to erase some of stress sticking like cobwebs to his every limb. Wonwoo allowed you to run the cloth along his forehead, in soothing strokes down his cheeks and the slope of his nose, your eyes shining with flecks of adoration and the softness he instilled in your chest. Not until he had been ridden from the grease and grime sticking to his complexion did you sit down next to him and fiddle for the burn cream, smirking at his dissuading whines.

“I can do this all myself.” He grumbled, watching you unscrew the cap and squeeze the gel substance onto the back of your hand.

“Shshshsh.” You crooned while planting a quick kiss on his nose, “Just let me help you at least once, okay?

Wonwoo squinted toward you, his lower lip jutting out slightly. Yet he knew of your persistence, how you yearned to bundle him in your affection, not to point where it became unbearable and embarrassing, but until chickadees were warbling pleasant melodies in his stomach, warming the cherry walls of his heart. It brought him to smile, rose lips tilting upward in infinitesimal movement, for if he allowed himself to smile any wider you might pounce on him. Your chin steadied on his shoulder, peaking down at the darkening burn on his hand.

You were quiet, wallowing in the tranquil silence that bathed the garage, Wonwoo’s fingers curling and uncurling as you soothed his injury with the cooling gel. It may have stung a little, but your touch was cautious, gentle, assuring his recovery and that it wasn’t something to lose sleep over.

“See?” He felt your breath tickle his ear, “All better.” Wonwoo hummed in reply, knowing you still had to protect the burn with the bandage you discovered.

“Bam.” You said smugly. “I’m a healing wizard.”

The sable haired boy turned his hand back and forth while you returned the first aid kit to the work bench, admiring the neatness of your bandaging. It was something anyone could have done, but when it unravelled under your touch and the love that simmered in your heart, Wonwoo felt as though no one could have fixed him up any better.

“Can I at least get a thank you? I mean sure you could have been humble and did it yourself blah blah blah, but ya didn’t! Your really amazing girlfriend made everything dandy and she still really wants to eat.” You chirped while twirling in front of Wonwoo, accenting your skirt.

“I mean this outfit is really nice too, but I guess I can’t complain if you still want take-out seeing as you burnt yourself and everything.” Wonwoo remained on the hood of the car, elbows resting atop his knees and gliding his midnight stare after your very word and twirl and smile. You were right; your outfit did look nice, very nice.

“Y/N?” You halted in swaying from side to side, plucking at the pale lilac colour of your blouse.

if you don’t like smut, keep scrolling until you recognize this line!

“Yeah?” You replied innocently, lashes swishing down and up. Wonwoo was marvelling over you in an ardent stare, two orbs of white glistening like tiny snowflakes in his pupils. His voice that had always been encompassed in brass managed to drop lower, sweeping along the dark ocean floors as he wiggled his finger at you.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” The four syllables practically dripped from his lips, warning you it was perilous to approach him, yet they held a certain nuance that urged you to step closer, the innocent smile that framed your face wiped straight off by the grip he installed around your wrist.

The next thing you knew, your back was flush against the car’s teal hood, Wonwoo’s arms placed on either side of your head as your legs automatically latched onto his waist. Your breath was staggered between parted lips, shaky during its journey to breach the air, your heart pumping at an unprecedented level while you could say nothing, do nothing but feel Wonwoo’s gaze devour you whole.

“Your outfit does look really nice.” He taunted you with his whisper, lips ghosting at your ear’s cusp, “But it would look so much better if I ripped it off of you, hmm?”

You couldn’t help but squirm against him, your arms that had been lying limp beside your head now settled on Wonwoo’s shoulders, giving them a subtle squeeze. The top part of his jumpsuit had been unbuttoned, peeled to rest around his waist so a white t-shirt could shine through. It was of course smeared with blotches of grease, and it became the principal scent to hover around you. Not entirely pleasant, but the stars swirling in Wonwoo’s eyes were sufficient in distracting you, tempting your thoughts to entre lascivious realms.

But Wonwoo was at work, and he needn’t dwell in distractions.

“Why now?” You squeaked, not able to shovel aside the heat bubbling in your stomach. The risk factor was enormous, yet an almost inaudible voice cooed at the back of your skull, encouraging you to continue, to keep the sable haired boy’s body pressed tightly against your own.

“Because I really can’t stand to watch you parade around in a skirt so fucking short and a blouse so see through. We can go out if you want, I don’t care, but if others are gonna see you in this then they’re gonna know who you belong to.”

He breathed hotly against your neck, palms cascading in hunger down your thighs, slipping underneath them and pressing forth the indent of crescent moons. You felt responsible if his uncle were to amble in and have such a sight mar his vision, but the husk adorned to Wonwoo’s tone was not in one bit unfamiliar. He had spoken using the same assertiveness when his clients at the piercing shop dug under his skin, when his uncle assigned him to rewire another car or take over three paint jobs supposed to be done by other workers. It was the tautness of not getting payed enough for his efforts, that college was not too generous with its work load.

It had all been accumulating, festering. Wonwoo often hid his stresses from you, but there had been more than one occasion where he burned for an outlet, fingers curling attentively around the column of your throat, a voice rumbling in cadences low and rough warning you to keep quiet as his hips slammed into your backside, the lewd act sheltered by a dressing room. He would never tell you he was stressed, but it broke through quite clearly when he would cease your conversations and eye you with glossy irises, intent scribbled through the manner of his tilted brows and tapping fingers. At first you may have been nervous, but by now it brought excitement to course through your veins, to create a coil of anticipation.

And at this moment Wonwoo was stressed, your doubts ebbing away piece by piece. You could understand that, the car he’d been prodding at for who knows how many hours refused to work, his hand just got crisped, he still had your date to worry about, college studying to swallow. He was plating it all, which meant bruises impossible to cover with concealer for you.

“So who is it?” Wonwoo crooned lowly into your neck, his lips attaching to suckle a patch of skin ever so gently. “Who is it that you belong to, baby?”

A hand slid from his shoulder to run through his hair, tangling within the sable locks and twisting them with enough intent for him to nip below your ear.

Your lips parted, a breathy answer slow to roll off your tongue. “You.”

Wonwoo ran his nose down to your shoulder; inhaling the vanilla body wash you adored so much. His palms mapped along your thighs he could never squeeze and scratch enough, slipping under your skirt and making a slow crawl toward the silk waistband of your underwear. How lucky he was that you’d chosen a skirt.

“You can do better than that, baby.” He hummed, your head titled back with the kisses he planted up your throat, taking his sweet time in nipping polished enamel along skin so soft and warm. Eventually he was at your lips, licking slowly into your mouth until your fingers grew like a python strangling his hair, your hips twitching upward to brush in want against his.

“Tell me who you belong to.” Wonwoo entreated again, his voice heightening in demand. You felt like a kitten as you mewled against his lips, every trace of sly fingertips under your skin nothing but a skim, a tease to get your centre aching.

“I belong to you.” He heard your voice crack when his free hand slapped underneath your thigh, clutching the meat and curving into its suppleness with blunt fingertips. Lust was brewing like a potion within his every fiber, the heap of stress he kept bottled beneath tendrils of assurance beginning to melt free. Wonwoo pulled your lower lip; not at all shy to prelude it’s swelling by the use of his teeth. Satisfaction had yet to blaze within his eyes, your weakening voice pleasant, but still not enough. And then Wonwoo kissed you one last time, his lips adapting a much softer rhythm in lieu of nipping and sucking. His head was lifting away, your lips mindlessly chasing after his with sparklers igniting before your closed eyes, imbuing the familiar waves of ecstasy.

When he’d teased you into a sitting position, your legs still curled around his waist, did he bunch together every strand of your apricot hair, forcing your head back.

“We’re gonna try this again, okay?” He whispered with peculiar dulcet qualities. It was difficult to nod with his fingers woven so tautly through your hair, yet you attempted anyways, something sticky ruining your favourite pair of silk underwear as he demanded you turn around. Wonwoo hovered behind you, your eyes glued to the windshield of the car and how you reflected in the glass, your lips swollen, hair a twisted mess, the sable haired boy’s favourite. Your knees pressed into the car almost uncomfortably, but you had no choice with Wonwoo’s body slipping right behind you, a distinct hardness brushing your back.

Through the reflection you could see his smirk, your breath bated as you knew it was him wondering of all the ways to summon your whines.

And then he acted upon one of them, your body suddenly bent over the hood of the car, his hand taking refuge in your locks once again. A finger trailed up the back of your thigh, tracing circles and stars, shooting shivers to prickle down your spine and tiny valley’s to erupt from your flesh. However you knew the game had really started when Wonwoo flipped up your skirt, his fingers twitching ever so infinitesimally in your hair as the view of your silk soaked underwear and legs sinfully parted washed across his vision. It took every ounce of self-control he could muster to not rip each piece of measly fabric off you, to take you right then and there, his fingers tugging your head back as he slammed his impatient length into your walls so slick and hot.

You heard him groan, and right before you could speak up, he slapped a palm across your ass, the smack of skin against skin rippling around the garage. Wonwoo leaned over you, his musky scent driving your heart to slam more vigorously into your ribcage, so unfathomably fast it could probably dent the hood of the car.

“I’m gonna ask one more time, baby.” He growled into your ear, his voice the perfect mixture of gritty and smooth. “Who do you belong to?” You were more than ready to spill his name like a mantra, to scream it if he asked you, the desire that scolded your insides so thoroughly only containing the concept of pleasing him, washing away his stress. So with a little quirk to your lips, you opened your mouth to respond, but it was not a word that came out, but a moan.

The rough pads of Wonwoo’s index and middle finger were coming into contact with your clothed clit, rubbing lazy circles upon the sensitive bundle and applying enough force to make your thighs quiver, heat amplifying in your stomach. He only pressed harder when you didn’t respond, his voice crackling by your ear.

“Who the fuck do you belong to!” He hissed, his hand untangling from your hair to harshly slap against your ass. Your whole body jolted, jittering underneath him as he dragged his fingers to prod up your slit before circling your clit again. You were positive your whole outfit would be ripped to shreds by the end of his high, your high, as many highs as he could force you to reach.

“Wonwoo!” You belted when he ripped away from your backside, his hands tearing the drenched silk from your legs, the growl of ripped fabric slicing through the air and causing you to whine against the car’s hood.

“I belong to Jeon Wonwoo!” He spread your legs even further before his fingers found your slick again, rolling across your rose bud in figure eights and making the occasional dip to your slit. Finally the answer he’d been longing to hear, the name you could pester with calling him all day long, but hesitate to when had you keening to the stars. Wonwoo was back over you in an instant, the lewd noises his fingers were creating casting a lurid sheen to encompass your cheeks.

“That’s right, sweetheart, every pretty part of you belongs to me, every pretty part of you gets ruined by me, and then every pretty part of you gets taken care of by me. You understand?”

Boy, he was stressed alright.

“Yes.” You could barely afford to choke, his lips making the occasional kiss to your ear as he spoke. His fingers drag your gloss up the inside of your thighs, satisfied at how he felt them quiver and shake, but nothing licked warmth to his chest more than hearing you mewl, the heel of his palm rubbing sins into your clit. Wonwoo doubted he had ever wanted you so bad before, the emotions popping in his stomach so intense that he had enough energy to pound on the car’s hood more than once as well as the backseats and rear.

Amongst pulling your hair and soaking his fingers in your arousal, a brief moment flashed before lust tinted irises. The views he snagged of you during your first drive to the lake, his adventures alongside you in the floral shops garden, and the ache in his chest after going home from your first kiss.

Wonwoo may have been engulfed in lust, want, a burning need to dissolve his stress, but he also cared about your feelings too, the rapid pace you jumpstarted his heart with. You were surprised to hear his gravel tone soften during your escapade for pleasure, his palm slowing down on your clit ever so slightly so you could focus on the burst of radiance that glowed in your chest.

“And every pretty part of you is loved by me, okay? Every single fucking part of you, my baby, I love more than anything.”

Jeon Wonwoo loved you; he loved you like the stars love the moon.

So where did it all go wrong?

smut over! sorry this line is so short im typing to make it longer blah blah

You were occupied with washing the dishes. Bubbles were swallowing the sink, popping in claps of lemon as you dragged a sponge up and down your plate. The television hummed in the background, displaying the scenes of some spy based show you could never get into, yet Wonwoo always babbled about the latest episode to Jeongyeon when you all hung out on campus. You didn’t take a liking to sitting there in silence, munching down fries or sipping from your canteen as their excited chirps echoed around the room. Forcing yourself to sit through hours of footage that went in one ear and out the other wasn’t your ideal night, but you put yourself through it anyway.

After placing the dishes back in the cupboards, you bounced on your sofa a few times and raised the volume on the television. You thought you might be getting into the plot just a tiny bit when your phone began vibrating, the screen flashing with bundles of text. Heaving a sigh, you swiped it off the coffee table and realized it was just nothing more than Wonwoo and Jeongyeon exchanging details surrounding the show, details you were all absorbing with your own eyes, so you were clueless as to why they were updating each other on every second that passed.

“I’ll never understand their friendship.” You chuckled to yourself, about to shut your phone off when something caught your eye, the date. There it was, gleaming back at you and staining white light along your face, yet you were a bit clouded over as to why it snagged your attention so much, the measly appearance of a number and a month. But then it hit you, coalescing into one grand realization that brewed stiltedness in your stomach.

Wasn’t I supposed to get my period like five days ago?

You chewed into your lower lip, opening the calendar app and scrolling through all the months that had dotted past. Memories were filming by in your mind, portraying an episode more thought provoking than the one hogging the television screen. You remembered getting your period for the last few months because it struck during such inconvenience, but at this time, you hadn’t even received a sign of it.

It was impossible for you to not jump to conclusions, eyebrows furrowed as you pinpointed your last moment of intimacy with Wonwoo. Everything was there; the foil packaged being ripped, your fingers scrolling it down his length as you sat at the edge of the bed. The chances of getting a faulty condom were quite low, yet you were positive, absolutely positive nothing had slipped through. By now the texts shared on the group chat were white noise to your ears, nothing consuming you more than the anxiety steeping in your gut.

It’s probably just late, Y/N. You assured yourself, that’s all it is, your period is late.

Your giggles echoed down the corridor as you unlocked the door to your apartment, the key clicking before it was right back in your pocket. Wonwoo hovered by the doorway as you kicked off your shoes and shook out your aching feet, a long day of exploring the town making an appearance through the drag in your bones. He curled his rosy lips at you, bringing your heart to float on a sea of feathers, a factor that never died away or changed in the slightest.

“Goodnight.” He purred when you wrapped your arms around his neck, inhaling his forever lasting scent of blackberries that made you feel at home, diminishing any stresses or worries. Your fingers ruffled through his thick fluff as you parted, scattering the fringe before his eyes until he pinched into your side.

“Goodnight, love!” You half yelped, half cackled as Wonwoo took a few strides down the hallway. He began walking backwards, blowing a kiss off his lips that he wouldn’t ever fathom doing if in public. Of course you played along cheesily and caught it, his wave the last thing you fawned over before he disappeared into the elevator. You shut the door and ended up in the bathroom, turning the shower handle and allowing the cool water to splash against the tiling as you undressed. A soft tune lulled in your throat, one that had played in Wonwoo’s cheap ass Mercedes during your late night town travels. You couldn’t stop replaying the flashes of his smile, of his arms curling around your waist and head nuzzled into your shoulder during the long wait for churros.

By the time your shirt was a limp clump on the floor, you stared down at your stomach, admiring the silver crescent that still sparkled as brightly as ever from your navel. You were gentle in taking it out for your shower. It was expensive material, so it wouldn’t rust, but you had grown to treasure it so much you wouldn’t dare wear it swimming or bathing as frequently as before. However, when it was safe on the bathroom counter and your last articles were tossed, did you notice something strange.

Your stomach was a bit bloated, more rounded than usual. And then your eyes dared stray to your underwear, how they were spotted with dark red dots. It definitely wasn’t the first time you’d noticed this. In fact, the longer you stood with the shower gushing precious warm water, steam enveloping the room and fogging the mirrors, did you gulp down the lump in your throat, the ball of overwrought emotions and consternation that tripped your breathing.

But when, your mind belted, it’s impossible, it’s fucking impossible.

And with shaky fingers that struggled in dragging open the shower curtain, you dismissed the possibility that was painted in bold.

I am not what I think I am.

Wonwoo was too enthralled in the yoyo he won at the pancake lunch to pay notice to your shuffling, how after classes finished you made a beeline for the convenience store to supposedly wrack the shelves for toothpaste and plastic cups and tea bags. He never noticed you scribble down a fake list in the corner of your calculus notebook and tear it out, brushing the hair from your cheeks as you handed it to him on your departure from class.

“Can you look for this stuff? I have some things of my own to get.”

Wonwoo’s eyes darted over the list impetuously, his yoyo still flicking by his side. His nose crinkled, pushing up the silver spectacles he wore before nodding.

“M’kay.” He accepted without batting an eyelash. “Meet you at the counter.”

You swayed him with a sweet smile that accents the pink gloss on your lips, the reflection of white light twinkling in your eyes, and Wonwoo is smiling back, the yoyo finally ceased of its constant spinning.

He tapped your nose, which you learned was the equivalent of a kiss, making that first day at the secret lake a memory littered with blushing. While the sable haired boy was distracted with seeking out items you didn’t quite need, you were zipping between each isle, heart hammering like a drum in your chest until the shelves that smelt of baby powder pulled you in. Your breath was ragged as you make contact with the tiny white box, smooth against your fingertips yet imbuing fear to root through your body. The outline of a mother with a swollen stomach is slapped on the front, her hand cradled under the melon like bump.

You could not afford to stare any longer. Very hastily you darted to the self-check-out on the opposite side of the store, the crimson sloshing through your ears a constant balk to not squander a single moment in covering the box from any curious eyes. You heard the beep, the intoned voice of the machine drawling to you for what felt like ages. Finally it was done, the deed was over with as Wonwoo popped out of an isle and blinked at you, each item bundled in his arms.

“Where are the things you got?” He prodded while flicking his yoyo again.

“I realized I don’t really need them.”

Wonwoo pouted, his plump lips wiggling at you. “Well do you still want this?”

You could feel the box press against your arm, digging into your flesh yet concealed by the oversized sleeves of your jacket. Your hand brushed against Wonwoo’s cheek before selecting the tea bags among the other items in his hold.

“Let’s keep the tea.”

And then the sable haired boy was grinning, arm latching around your waist and turning you back to the self-check-out. His fingers lingered around your elbow, dangerously close to the box pressed up your sleeve.

“You feel kinda tense, babygirl.” Wonwoo said softly. “Everything alright?”

You leaned your head into his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Everything is perfectly fine, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Except it is the opposite, and with your head so preciously tucked against him, it was impossible for him to see the glassy lacquer in your orbs, the slight scar on your lip from biting it too much.

No, everything is not fine.

Everything is far from it as you stand outside your apartment door, palms resting comfortably on Wonwoo’s shoulders as he peppered your forehead in feather light kisses, whispering you for to sleep without worries, reminding you that the moon he loves and yearns to engulf in sugar spice and everything nice will always be you. He may have sensed that something was off, shifted into darkness that he cannot light up, so Wonwoo tried his best to kindle warmth within your chest, and soothe your heart that had been twisted and pulled in every direction.

He cupped your cheeks and placed his lips atop your own, whispering three words you had come to hear so often, yet melted with each breath they were spoken in. Wonwoo tapped your nose before gently shutting the door, leaving you to stand in silence, to make yourself some tea and slip under rumples of linen.

Or so he thought.

In reality you were rummaging through your jacket, you were sprinting to the bathroom and tearing open the stupid white box without hesitation. Your mind was blank as you sat over the toilet seat and waited, tendrils of hair spiralling before your eyes and a sickening thump drilling louder than steel against steel in your ears.

But nothing was louder than the sob that cracked from your throat when you leaned against the bathroom sink and grazed into the two pink lines ever so present on the stick, the two pink lines that burn your flesh in hues of dread.

Burn. Burn. Burn. A burnt hand. A teal blue hood. A lilac blouse paired with a cream skirt, swiped from bruised flesh in such a bold lust that there is no time to think about precautions.

You are pregnant. You are carrying Jeon Wonwoo’s child.

Every single moment spiralled back to that day, all blooming from your encounter at the piercing shop, your exchange of different symbolisms, the heat flushing your cheeks as the most handsome boy you’d ever seen teased you about not being able to swim. The drive in his eggshell coloured Mercedes that brought you to hurl your watermelon popsicle out the window when swallowing it whole was not the most intelligent option, your daydreaming of his part time job as a mechanic, sunlight bathing across your features as the boy admires you in secrecy. Water encasing limbs sticky in summer heat, droplets of azure splashing into the air as you jump from slabs of rock.

It’s the gushing of one another in private, swooning and suffering in the misery of unfilled heart ache until you’re seated before flaming orange flowers and the urge to taste each other’s lips is simply too strong. The moments could scroll forever, yet they all dwindle down to the darkest that had been waiting for its chance to pounce.

You’re back to a curse word slipping toward the floor, a hand shifting to hold your stomach as you look him in his midnight eyes and articulate as clearly as you can. You show him the pregnancy test, the online pages you’d bookmarked, the swelling of your stomach. Your cheeks are hot and damp as you explain to him the spots in your underwear, the period you never got, the cramps that seize your stomach with jabs of pain. Wonwoo can only thread fingers through thick onyx strands, his eyes stretching wide.

“Y/N, how could this happen?” He stutters, speaking into his hand. You can’t look at him for a second longer; the dismay slacked into his features causing your eyes to grow glassy.

“Pretty sure it was the day at the garage, we were in such a haste to get things done, we forgot protection…”

Silence sticks to every corner of the room, most definitely laughing at the both of you, though you could never hear it. But even the mocking silence cowers when Jeon Wonwoo booms out a curse word, his deep voice striking your heart like a shot of lightning.

“We can’t be parents, Y/N!” Wonwoo says while pushing his hair back, visibly confused, frustrated, petrified.

“We’re two dumbass college kids who can barely look after ourselves! We have so little money; we would have to work our asses off to pay for that child, to give it the life it deserves!” He shouts, reaching the pinnacle of his lamentation. Your fingers are clenching, the hand that rests atop of your stomach twitching to ball up. Wonwoo does not expect you to take a step forward, though he does not expect you to lie limp and bawl salty pearls either.

“You think I don’t know that! I didn’t ask to get pregnant either Wonwoo, but that’s life and life fucking hurts sometimes! I know we don’t have a lot of money, I know there’s a lot on both our plates and that we would have to work so goddamn hard to support this child, but it’s here and it’s growing and neither of us planned for this but it’s time we damn start!”

He thinks about the story of the orchid.

There is nothing more you can say, nothing more you can do before Jeon Wonwoo’s eyes turn just as glassy as yours. Your mind is blank, though you frantically keen for more words to howl, to make him understand that this new chapter of your life deserves to be embraced no matter how unexpected it may seem. He clearly needs time to think, a moment to clear his head that refuses to stop spinning. Neither of you have anything to shout at each other, for it would go through one ear and straight out the other.

Wonwoo glances toward you, his eyes quickly dropping to your stomach that is indeed bulging the more he examines it.

“I need to think…” He breathes out in a tone so strained you wish you could take the best years of your life back. However that is a fool’s way to think, and you are not a fool.

But are you human and the pain of him closing the door as he exits your apartment proves that more than anything.

“This might disappoint you but, that’s the end.” Your voice was a lilt that drifted from the terrace, echoing into the fresh air of midnight and the misty noises that sounded from cars running up and down the street. The hand that rests ever so thoughtfully on your stomach etches for the first time, curling into the fabric of your oversized t-shirt. You sniffle, and it is then you realize the apples of your cheeks are glistening under moonlight, damp in the memories that stem from a summer too fateful and wrapped in bliss.

There is pain that lingers too, that Jeon Wonwoo had been absent in your life for nearly a month, his face hardly spotted flipping pages in the library or typing a report under the sakura tree that blooms on campus. You hate to admit you miss him, but how could you not when he presented you so much? When he kindled warmth so vibrant in your chest you couldn’t sleep because of it?

“I just want to let you know, Airplane,” you murmur, teeth briefly sinking into the laceration that was practically permanent on your lower lip, “That you shouldn’t be angry at your father. As much as you may want to be, your arrival had us both in shock, and he needed time to process things. Perhaps how life would be if you were in it, if you weren’t.”

You patted your growing stomach, aiming a smile toward the tiny human who listened to your long tale so intently and quietly, absorbing every detail and monitoring the different cadences your voice fell into when referencing something happy, something sad.

“Airplane, do you like flowers?” You ask while blinking toward the sky, pupils reflecting the milky threads of constellations and the silver crescent that does not suffer ineptitude when the challenge is to shine brightly. Silence is greeting your question, and it makes you smile.

“I think you’ll grow up to like flowers. Maybe orchids, maybe hibiscuses, maybe even chrysanthemums. I can teach you a lot about them, I promise I won’t make it boring.” The temptation to laugh at yourself bubbles for a moment, because how crazy do you sound right now? Alone, at the hour of midnight, rambling on and on to an unborn baby named Airplane about first love and piercings and flowers. Anyone who happened to be awake and gazing upon the satin sky as keenly as you would hear your conversation and furrow their brows, rub their hollow eyes to rid them of stardust and potential lucid dreams.

They might seek themselves out to be the crazy one.

Or maybe they do not think you’re crazy, but just happen to be the tiniest bit strange.

“If you end up being allergic to flowers, I’ll show you books. If you don’t like books I can show you music. And if you don’t like music…” You warbled while twiddling your thumbs, a curl suddenly forming along your lips.

“I’ll show you how a spark plug works, I’ll show you how not to confuse your fog lights with your air conditioning. I can demonstrate the perfect cannonball, and show you tricks on a yoyo. I’ll try to learn everything so I can show you everything.“

“How does that sound?” A deep voice mumbles from inside the garage, reading glasses about to slip from the bridge of his nose as he flips the next glossy page of the magazine. His eyelids are droopy, yet they are determined to absorb every word they run across, to learn every secret that the pages have to offer. He hears his uncle call out from underneath his truck.

“What did you say, Woo?”

The sable haired boy cocks his head around from his work bench, watching his uncle slide from underneath his pickup, grease stains smudged along his face and gloves.

“Nothing.” The boy responds, flashing the older man a slight smile. “Just talking to myself.” He then faces the magazine pages again, his desk lamp attracting moths to flutter inside from the open garage door, starlight bathing the scenery dotting outside. The page flips, and he immediately recognizes the silk texture of the petals, the hot pink splash in the middle.

“Hibiscus!” He beams triumphantly, “That’s a hibiscus flower!” And he is correct too, yet his uncle just has to butt in again.

“What’s up with you kids and talking to yourselves?” He grumbles from underneath the truck, “You sure are a strange bunch.”

Though the boy hardly hears him through the glee that bursts in his chest, the light glimmering in his pupils of midnight, for he is too swept up in the fact that he’s making progress.

“I told you I’m learning, Sun.” He made sure to whisper much lower, for his ears only. “Once I learn about all these flowers, I just have to learn about everything else. I mean, your mother could teach you about flowers, but she can also teach you about spark plugs too. I can only do one, and I can’t have her besting me like that.”

The boy’s uncle could still hear him mumbling to himself, the old man’s eyebrows beginning to pinch together before he slid from underneath the truck and wiped his forehead with a damp cloth, willing to pester his nephew just one last time.

“Why on earth are you whispering to the sun, Wonwoo? Gosh, you’re quite odd, aren’t you?”

Not a single answer swallowed the silence that brewed, Wonwoo’s uncle eventually giving up and retiring all his tools to his own work bench, leaving his peculiar nephew to contain his conversation with the currently nonexistent fire ball in the sky. A yawn stretched off the boy’s lips, hardly paying notice to the moth that perched in his fluffy locks of sable, peering down at the magazine alongside him.

“I’ve gotta learn everything so I can teach you everything. I won’t let her do it on her own, that’s too much work. She has to take care of herself first.”

Wonwoo let his chin rest in his palm, eyes glazing along each snapshot of a flower different in colour and shape, memories of light blue overalls and worn out sneakers and fruit gummies tinting his mind.

“She’s really pretty too, Sun. You’ll be pretty like her too, whether you’re a boy or a girl.”

It was getting late, and though Wonwoo felt drowsiness and indolence slowly begin to encompass him, he shook the feelings away, scaring the little moth from his hair. He couldn’t afford to let you down again, to witness such pain mar your features and turn your curled smile into a frown. This unprecedented chapter with you was exactly what he needed, and after pondering for hours and hours on the roof of the piercing shop, skipping classes and meals and work, could Wonwoo say confidently that he wanted this, he wanted you. He was in love with you.

But he also wanted his little baby who he had given the nickname of Sun, because as you once said, the sun symbolizes a new beginning, and what better way to commence in this new beginning than with a family.

✎ hi, it’s choco typing from the grave, hope u enjoy, stay hydrated, eat ur vitamins, lov wonwow. peace.

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