#blooming garden au

[sattlersquarry]

hyacinths; peonies (steve harrington x fem!reader)

finale of the bloom series. series masterlist

Summary: All things must come to an end...or not so much. (garden center!steve x wedding planner!reader)

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: language, mentions of infidelity and trust issues.

hyacinths: "I am sorry," "please forgive me," sorrow

🪻🪻🪻

You get out of “family dinner” with Jim, Joyce, their kids, and your mother by feigning a stomachache. You cry yourself to sleep, and the next morning, you shine a flashlight on your forehead to raise your temperature.

Your mother comes in your room at 9 a.m. sharp to whisk you off for some last-minute wedding prep before tomorrow’s rehearsal and this weekend’s big event. Thanks to your faux fever and somewhat convincing acting where you clutch your stomach and moan and groan about how bad you feel, she gives you the day off.

“Rest up and drink lots of fluids,” she says. “I’ll check on you later.”

You wallow in bed, thankful that you don’t have to spend the day thinking about eternal love after seeing Steve getting a kiss from the mystery girl. You watch soap operas on the small TV in your rented bedroom, relieved that today’s episodes all surround dramatic events, like car crashes and kidnappings, and that none of them are themed around weddings or love.

The guest house phone rings around noon. Distracted by the episode of General Hospital you’re watching, you pick it up without thinking.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Steve! What’s up?”

You almost choke on the chocolate-covered pretzels you’re scarfing down, causing you to erupt into a coughing fit.

“Hey, Steve,” you say hoarsely. “Sorry, I’m sick, so I’ll see you—”

“Wait!” Steve begs. “Hold on. I saw you at the Garden Center yesterday, but you rushed out of there so fast we didn’t get to talk. Is everything okay?”

“Like I said,” you say sharper than you mean to, “I’m sick. I feel like shit.”

“If you want, I can come by later with some chicken noodle soup? Or something else, if you don’t like chicken noodle.”

God, why is he so fucking nice? It’s making it harder to push him away. But visions dance in your head of Steve and that girl yesterday, and it spurs you to snap, “Goodbye, Steve.”

You hang up the phone and curl up under the covers, closing your eyes and wishing the wedding was over. You just want to go back home.

🪻🪻🪻

Steve, shocked, stares at the Garden Center office phone in his hand. He tries not to be too hurt by your behavior—you’re sick, after all, you don’t owe anyone pleasantries—but after the other night, he thought you two were in a really great place.

But then you stormed out of the Garden Center before you two could talk. Steve wanted to call you last night, but he spent the rest of his shift lugging mulch bags around and was exhausted after closing.

He used his lunch break to call you today, not expecting such an icy reception. Again, it could just be your illness, but Steve worries it’s something more.

Did you see him with Nancy? The realization startles him. Out of context, he and Nance probably looked pretty cozy. You might get the wrong impression.

“Fuck me,” Steve groans, slapping the phone back on the hook.

“No thanks,” Robin says, entering the office. “Why aren’t you eating lunch?”

“I just tried to call Y/N,” Steve says. “And she says she’s home sick, but I really think she’s pissed at me because she saw me with Nancy yesterday.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” Robin says. She perches on the edge of the desk and holds out her baggie of baby carrots for Steve to take one. He does. “She practically sprinted away from here. She couldn’t get away fast enough.”

Steve bites into the carrot, looking much too sorrowful for a man with an “Honor Your Mother Earth” shirt on.

“What the hell am I going to do?” he asks. “Y/N made it clear she doesn’t want to talk to me, but I need to explain that Nancy and I are nothing more than friends.”

“What about a grand romantic gesture?” Robin says. Her eyes shine with excitement. “Ooh! Maybe serenade her with a love song?”

“No, no,” Steve says. “No fluff. I have to be authentic and genuine.”

Although Steve’s break is over, he decides to spend the rest of his shift brainstorming how to clear the air and win you back. Because he wants you, not anyone else.

🪻🪻🪻

When your mother checks in on you later, she gives you a knowing look and says, “If you think I can’t tell that your sickness is nothing more than a broken heart, you must take me for a fool.”

You grimace.

“It’s that obvious?”

“Of course,” your mother says. “But only because it’s an ailment I’m all too familiar with.”

She perches at the edge of your bed and pats your arm. “What did that boy do?”

“I saw him with another girl,” you say with a sigh, picking at a loose thread on your throw blanket. “She kissed him. Just on the cheek, but still. The way he looked at her…it killed me.”

Your mother doesn’t say anything for a few moments. When you finally look up and make eye contact, she’s frowning.

You know what she’s thinking about: your father. How he up and left the family to run off with his mistress, and now he has another family in Key West.

So, you’re shocked when your mother says, “Well, what if that’s his cousin?”

“Uh, excuse me?”

“Did you talk to Steve about it?” your mother says. “Maybe that’s his cousin, or sister, or friend.”

“Friends don’t look at each other like that,” you say, vehemently shaking your head. “He’s cheating.”

Your mother nods slowly. “Hmm. Yes. Well, you’ll never know the true story if you don’t talk to him, will you?”

With that, she stands and exits, leaving you to think about her words.

You’re surprised at her reaction. A few years ago, your mother would’ve been cursing Steve’s name, lamenting that all men are the same: untrustworthy pigs.

Now, a few years after the cheating scandal and messy divorce, she’s more self-assured. She’s less likely to jump to conclusions. But you did, because maybe your parents’ divorce had more of an effect on you than you initially thought.

You try to call Steve back, but he’s already left work when you dial the Garden Center’s number. You call his home phone, and the line is busy.

You tell yourself tomorrow before the wedding rehearsal, you’ll swing by and talk to him. But the day comes, and your mother has you doing last minute wedding prep up until the rehearsal itself.

The man you want to see arrives at the Byers-Hopper residence for the rehearsal dinner, with Robin and a few of Will and El’s friends in tow. Your heart sinks when you see the girl from the Garden Center walking up with them.

Any desire you had to talk to him and figure things out disappears, replaced by a sensation of insecurity and dread. You make eye contact with Steve and his eyes widen. He smiles and waves. You give him a polite smile before beelining back to your mother, asking (begging) her for another chore to take you away from the main group.

“We’re about to do the wedding rehearsal,” your mother says pointedly.

“I don’t need to be here for that, right?”

She glances between you and Steve and sighs.

“Oh, fine. If you really don’t want to stick around, you can head to the main house and fold table name cards.”

You thank her and zip away, the mindless activity a reprieve. However, 15 minutes later, you hear the back door open while your back is turned.

You assume it’s your mother and say, “Okay, so where should I put—oh.”

It’s Steve. He’s standing in the doorway, face pale, gripping a bouquet of purple hyacinths.

“Hi,” he says quietly. “Can we please talk?”

You clear your throat and turn away, back to the name cards.

“Sorry, I really don’t have time right now—”

“Please?!” Steve repeats, voice cracking. “I think I know why you’re upset, and I just want to explain.”

You sigh and sit in a kitchen chair, gesturing for Steve to sit across from you.

He hands you the hyacinths, with you gingerly accept.

“Who is she?” you blurt out before he can say anything.

He swallows hard.

“My ex-girlfriend. But we’re not together anymore.”

You nod, hating yourself for sounding so small when you say, “She kissed you.”

“I know,” Steve says, closing his eyes like he’s in pain. “But it’s not like that. Nancy and I are just friends now. We’re better as friends.”

“Right.”

“I promise,” he repeats firmly. “Nancy is Jonathan’s girlfriend—that’s why she’s here. Y/N, I’m really enjoying spending time with you, and I like you so much. I’ve never felt this way before. I’d never cheat on you. Never.”

You believe him. Mostly. But something itches in the back of your mind. A seed of distrust, planted years ago the first time you caught your father in his study, whispering on the phone with his mistress about a phony business trip.

“I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” you say, unable to look him in the eye.

“No, please don’t apologize,” Steve says. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

You pluck a petal off a hyacinth, squeezing it between your fingers.

“My dad cheated on my mom,” you blurt out, before you can stop yourself, surprised at your own honesty. “So now I kind of have trust issues.”

“Well, we have that in common,” Steve sighs. “Are all dads assholes, or are we just unlucky?”

You laugh despite yourself, feeling some tension dissipate. Steve must feel it too, because his shoulders relax.  

“Can we start over?” Steve asks with a shy grin. He sticks out a hand to shake. “Hi, I’m Steve. I work at the Garden Center. What’s your name?”

You almost want to run away, embarrassed that you jumped to all the wrong conclusions about Steve. But the expectant, earnest look on his face makes you stay. Makes you smile at him, shake his outstretched hand, and say, “Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

peonies: happy life, happy marriage

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

Hopper and Joyce embrace and kiss, the crowd erupting into cheers.

The wedding went off without a hitch—just like you knew it would. Now, your time in Hawkins is almost to a close.

At the reception, you stand off in the corner of the yard by a willow tree and watch the newlyweds and their guests tear it up on the dance floor.

Your mother has finally freed you from your wedding-planning duties. She promises to handle any last-minute emergencies and let you enjoy yourself.

Enjoy your time with Steve, you know she means. She looked thrilled to see the two of you emerge from the Byers-Hopper house holding hands after you cleared the air yesterday afternoon.

You see Steve navigate through the crowd, holding two champagne flutes aloft. He darts to the side just in the nick of time as Jonathan Byers’ friend Argyle starts to electric slide into his path.

You snicker at the sight as Steve approaches.

“Hey, cut that out,” Steve says, handing you the drink with a mock intense expression on his face. “I almost got bowled over for these.”

“I saw,” you say. You jokingly pat his cheek and add, “You’re very brave, Steve.”

He plays along, preening under your fake praise.

“I know.”

After drinking, dancing, drinking some more, eating, and watching Jonathan’s face turn firetruck red when Nancy catches Joyce’s bouquet, you and Steve find yourselves swaying on the dance floor to an instrumental of “Unchained Melody.” The band your mother hired really is quite good.

You don’t want to ruin the moment, but you need to know.

“Hey,” you ask, hoping the hands slung around Steve’s neck aren’t shaking. “You still want to do this, right?”

“What do you mean?” he asks softly.

“Like, this,” you say, a little embarrassed as you gesture between the two of you. “Because I’m moving back to Eagleton tomorrow. But I really like you and I hope we can make this work.”

“I really like you, too,” Steve says, his cheeks flushing peony pink. “So, to answer your question, hell yes. I want to do this. Whatever ‘this’ entails.”

“Driving two hours round-trip to see me?” you prompt, bracing yourself for his response.

“Oh, absolutely! We can alternate visiting each other on weekends. And talk on the phone during the week. And just, you know. See where ‘this’ goes.”

The two of you lovesick goofs smile at each other, continuing to slow dance even as the music changes to something upbeat.

If you or Steve could predict the future, you would see a few important things. You would see the many months of weekend trips before Steve moves to Eagleton to share an apartment with you.

You would see the proposal — a quiet, understated thing at home with no witnesses except the cat you and Steve adopted on your two-year dating anniversary.

You would see your own wedding, planned by your amazingly talented mother of course. And she’s the one you have walk you down the aisle.

You’d see birthdays and holidays and romantic getaways and babies being born and growing old together. You’d watch your whole life with Steve bloom ahead of you, filled with all the wonderful things life should be.

But right now it’s 1987, and you’re dancing at a wedding with your new boyfriend Steve, and you can’t predict the future but if you could, you’d be really damn happy about it.

💐💐💐

A/N Thank you for reading along with this mini-series! :) I wanted to get the finale posted before the official start of fall. now it's time to pivot to spooky things perhaps, or an orange juice sequel...

tag list for this particular series!! @quinnkeerys @spicysix @keerysquinn @sunshinesteviee @inkluvs @stevebabey @0vix0 @lame0o @ghostlyfleur @starry-eyed-steve @hollandweather @lurkingprincess

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #st fic: bloom #steve harrington au #wedding planner!reader #garden center!steve harrington

[minecraftbookshelf]

so about this post...

can you do katherine? or maybe joel?

How did you know that the brainrot that inspired the post was Katherine-centric!

So have some Katherine snippet, I'll do Joel in a seperate post and make sure to tag you.

Katherine's mother grew roses. Lady Blossom was one of the greatest contenders for Queen of the Court and was famous for her ruthlessness and her roses. And she taught Katherine everything she knew.

-

AU Masterpost

#hi scott and katherine's stories especially are kinda about the ways that parents can fuck you up #:) #empires smp #empires s1 #rose bushes bloom most beautifully when fed with blood #and these roses are very well fed #an invitation to tea in lady blossoms garden is a threat #and everyone knows it #ask and it shall be answered #character study snippets #mileys-interests #marriage of state au #katherineelizabeth

[hana-omoriau]

#omori #prologue #omori au #omori hana au #omori hana #omori gladi #omori rose #omori cactus #omori melody #omori sunshine #the garden is blooming #can you smell that?

[valeskafics]

"Seeds of Love" - Hades!Daemon Targaryen x Persephone!Reader

a/n: the second installment of my greek gods/goddesses au! the next one will be hephaestus!aemond or dionysus!aegon 🤭

Summary: Daemon, the God of the Underworld, claims you, the sweet Goddess of Spring, for his own.

TW: dubcon, canon typical incest (reader is a velaryon), profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, abduction, fingering, oral f receiving, p in v sex, size kink/breeding kink if you squint

Word Count: 3,200 words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

Sometimes, Daemon loves his position as God of the Underworld. He is not tied to King’s Landing and all its politics, rather, he is free in his own domain. Perhaps it is a bit dark and a bit gloomy, full of the dead, of course, but it is his home. His kingdom. He was always meant to be a king, he thinks, and in a way, Viserys has given him that. So, he does his best to be grateful for the life he has been given.

However, there are days when even his three-headed dragon, Caraxes, is not enough to bring him joy, days where his nymph lover, Mysaria, is not enough to soothe the emptiness inside of him, the darkness that threatens to consume him whole. On those days, he travels to King’s Landing, walking through the gardens, the Kingswood, anywhere he can bask in the sun, if only for a moment.

It is on one of those days that he sees you for the first time. The Goddess of Spring, the sweet daughter of Corlys, the God of the Sea, and Rhaenys, the Goddess of the Harvest. From what Viserys has told him, your parents have kept you safely cloistered away, far from the eyes of any gods who may wish to claim you. The God of War, Aemond, and the God of Wealth and Luck, Jacaerys, both sought your hand but were swiftly denied by your mother, who went so far as to hide you on Dragonstone for a time, fearing that one of them would steal you away.

However, it would seem that you have returned to King’s Landing. Daemon remains in the shadows, watching as you walk, adorned in a dress of fine white silk, a symbol of your purity, flowers in your hair denoting your status as the Spring Goddess. He watches as you walk, flowers blooming everywhere you step. He cannot take his eyes off of you, admiring the way the sunlight glows on your skin, your dainty bare feet that prompt flowers to bloom, the curves of your body barely hidden beneath your dress…

Daemon watches as you enter the Kingswood, accompanied by your entourage of nymph attendants, one of whom begins braiding your hair. You look beautiful, he muses, as you braid one of the nymphs’ hair in return before turning your attention to weaving yourself a crown of flowers, specifically daffodils. Daemon notes with no small degree of delight that your mother is nowhere in sight. So, he approaches you, the nymphs scattering when they see him approaching, his presence formidable.

You, however, do not notice him at first, a fact which amuses him greatly. He takes a few steps closer before saying your name in a soft, almost whispering voice.

You turn to look at him, your lips parted in surprise, “Yes?”

He smiles at this, finding your reaction to his presence adorable. His violet eyes seem to almost pierce through you as he stands tall before you, taking another step closer, his gaze flickering down to your lips, so soft and so very kissable. He feels a heat growing in his chest, a desire to take you back with him to the Underworld and claim you for his own. However, seeing the trepidation in your gaze, he realizes he must be careful.

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld,” he says in a smooth baritone.

You stand up, backing away slightly, seeming to recognize him, “Does my mother know you are here, Prince Daemon?”

Daemon is not in the least bit put off by your reaction. In fact, he feels excited by it as he takes a step closer to you, his eyes greedily drinking in the sight of your curves as you move, so graceful and smooth.

“No, we happen to be away from your mother,” he says, not once looking away from you.

“Aren’t you meant to be in the Underworld?” you ask him, curious little thing that you are, gazing up at him, “Mother says you hardly come to the Keep.”

Daemon grins at you, moving in ever closer, “Sometimes I feel the urge to leave. To revel in the sun and its warmth. And when I do leave, I enjoy the company of beautiful women such as yourself.”

“She’ll be quite angry if she sees me talking with you,” you trail off, a bit uncertain as you continue moving away from him.

He continues walking toward you, slowly, almost like a lion getting ready to attack its prey, his gaze appraising you, “Why? Does your mother not trust her sweet daughter?”

“She trusts me,” you protest, your back hitting a tree, stopping you in place, “She says that it is men who cannot be trusted.”

Daemon’s grin grows wider at the realization that you cannot continue to move away from him. He moves closer to you, a primal urge deep inside of him taking control, a hunger growing in his stomach, though not for food. His eyes are filled with lust and his breathing grows heavier. He swears he can hear your heart beating just as fast as his.

“Does it not bother you to have people treat you like a fragile flower?”

You glower up at him slightly, bristling with annoyance, “I am a goddess. I am not fragile.”

Daemon enjoys the way you stand your ground, the fire in your eyes, as a mischievous smile graces his lips, “Oh, I know that, sweet one. The only fragile thing here is the restraint I am having to show in not just taking you and claiming you as my own.”

You arch a brow, crossing your arms and looking at him with an unimpressed expression, “I see why my mother says men are not to be trusted.”

He chuckles, loving the way you hold your own against him, your pride only further intriguing him, “That is a very narrow-minded thing for you to presume, my sweet, most men may be bad but not all. But,” he leans in close to you, his breath tickling your lips as he murmurs, “I do have bad intentions.”

You gaze up at him through your lashes and question, “And what bad intentions are those?”

Daemon’s eyes run the length of your body before returning to your eyes, then down to your lips, “My intentions are bad, wicked. Dark. I have never felt like this before, but right now I feel like I have to have you, no matter the cost.”

You are about to answer him when none other than your mother appears, giving Daemon a scathing look for having dared approach you. She drags you off, Daemon is sure, lecturing you all the way on the dangers of speaking to him. Yet, you turn and glance back at him over your shoulder, curious, as you disappear back into the Red Keep. Daemon’s gaze on you is hungry. You may have eluded him this time, but there will certainly be another day.

Daemon, for the first time in a long while, goes to Viserys, the God of Lightning, his dear older brother, for advice. And Viserys, happy to spite Rhaenys, is glad to give it. After all, a goddess of your age should not be sequestered away in the Red Keep, as far as he is concerned. So, the two hatch a plan, one that will ensure that Daemon gets what he wants.

He finds you a few days later, gathering flowers, looking as beautiful as ever. He observes you for a few moments, the heat inside him rising to new heights. He thinks of the plan he and Viserys concocted, his blood feeling as though it is boiling beneath his skin. Daemon makes his approach, grabbing you by the hips from behind.

“Hello again, my beautiful goddess.”

You freeze in place, though not for fear of him, he realizes as you respond, “I am not supposed to speak to you.”

You turn to face him and Daemon stares you directly in the eyes, moving closer, “Your mother?”

“Yes,” you say, slowly backing away, dropping the flowers you were gathering.

There is something in your eyes that Daemon cannot quite put his finger on as he gazes at you. Curiosity? Or perhaps something akin to desire? He has every intention of finding out. He grabs your wrist, though not roughly, pulling you flush against his chest.

“I think you ought to learn to listen to how you feel rather than what others tell you,” he says, eyes darting between your lips and your beautiful eyes which continue to gaze at him.

That is when you hear it. A rumbling. You gasp, looking around as the ground begins to shake. And soon, a great chasm opens near where you and Daemon stand.

“What’s happening?” you breathe, panicked.

Daemon grins at you as he pulls you into his arms, dragging you down with him, murmuring into your ear, “You are coming with me, sweet flower.”

You close your eyes in fear as the two of you fall for what seems like an eon, but truly isn’t more than a few moments. When your eyes open, you realize where you are. Daemon’s domain. The Underworld. You look around, realizing you are on the bank of the River Styx, staring somewhat awed at the sight, only to panic once more when a restless spirit attempts to drag you into the dark waters. You yelp and cling to Daemon, your chest pressed against his side in a way that allows him to feel you in all your splendor.

Your sweet little noises excite the God of the Underworld even more as he holds you close, “Do not panic, little one. There is nothing to fear. I will take you to a place where no one will be able to find you, not even your mother. A place where you will be mine.”

You mumble under your breath, “I do not like it here…”

Daemon lifts your chin so that you meet his eyes, “You will soon,” he pauses before adding, “Have you any idea how badly I want you right now?”

You are about to answer when you are interrupted by a low growl, one that does not come from the man beside you. You all but shriek and grab onto Daemon even closer as his great three-headed beast, Caraxes, approaches, staring you down.

“Fear not, little one,” Daemon chuckles, “You are perfectly safe with me. Caraxes knows you are under my protection.”

As if on cue, Caraxes approaches you, one of his heads licking you playfully, the other nudging you, prompting you to laugh softly, resting your hand against his warm scales, “He… He is quite friendly.”

Daemon pats his third head, smirking, “See, my goddess? He likes you. Perhaps he knows you are meant to be my queen. Even he can feel the connection between us.”

You turn to Daemon as Caraxes wanders off, no doubt in search of food, and speak, “The Goddess of Spring is meant to remain untainted-”

Daemon raises an eyebrow, resting a hand against your face, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb, “Do you truly think you remain untainted, my sweet? You so enjoyed the attention I gave you in the woods, did you not?”

He places his free hand on your lower back, moving it upward until he reaches the end of your dress, his fingers tracing your bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He feels you shiver slightly, your body responding to his touch.

“I know you enjoyed my touch, your body responds to me in a way you cannot deny,” Daemon whispers, his thumb moving from your cheek to your lips.

They are so plump and soft that all Daemon can think about is kissing you, feeling your lips against his skin. You part them slightly and he moves his thumb between them, into your mouth. You gaze up at him in surprise, your lips closing around his thumb, suckling at it slightly. Daemon feels his breeches grow tight at the sight, loving the way you so naturally seem to know what it is he wants. He removes his hand, unable to rest any longer, pressing his lips to yours.

Daemon kisses you with an insatiable hunger, as though he wishes to devour your very being. And you do not wish to deny him. Your kiss is more shy, hesitant really, but you wrap your arms around him, returning his kiss with ardor. He bites your lower lip, just enough to get you to gasp and part your lips, his tongue moving into your mouth, dancing against your own as they meet. He picks you off the ground, carrying you off to his chambers, dropping you gently on the bed, staring down at you, his gaze ravenous, famished.

“But where will I sleep?” you ask curiously, looking around.

Daemon smirks, “Right here with me. We will do more than just sleep beside each other, however. You will be my wife.”

“My mother will never allow it,” you say, a bit bitterly as you watch him move to lay atop you on the bed.

Daemon smirks, “She will have no choice in the matter.”

He runs his hands down your sides, caressing your waist, down to your hips, then your thighs. Your back arches off the bed as you gaze up at him, entranced by his every move. You weakly protest that your parents will be furious but Daemon quells your fears with his lips against yours. Your body is so soft and supple against him, it drives him almost mad with want. He moves to kiss your neck, biting down on your soft skin, leaving his mark on you, evidence of his desire for you. His mouth moves toward your collarbone, your hands threading through his hair, nails raking against his scalp.

Daemon makes quick work of your dress, sliding it down your body, his eyes greedily drinking in each bit of your exposed skin, your bare breasts, your hips… He removes his tunic, smirking as your delicate hands reach for his breeches, unlacing them with haste. You take his cock in your hand, so long and thick and heavy. He throws his head back as you move your hand along his length, slow and curious, before gently pushing your hand away and pressing his lips to yours, wanting to feel you.

He moves his hand to the apex between your thighs as he kisses you, his fingers teasing your entrance before he pushes one in. You feel so tight around him that it’s almost hard to move when he adds a second finger, but he continues, reveling in the little mewls of pleasure. His mouth moves to take one of your pert nipples in his mouth as he adds a third finger, pumping them in and out of you at a languid pace, his tongue tracing over your sensitive bud as he gazes at you, his eyes hooded, pupils blown wide with lust.

He brings you to your peak, feeling your walls squeeze tight around him, soaking his fingers with evidence of your arousal. He soon replaces his fingers with his tongue, wanting to properly prepare you for the moment he takes you, lapping at your folds eagerly, keeping his eyes on you all the while. Your hands fly into his hair yet again, fingers twisting in his platinum locks, both wanting to push him away and pull him closer. He alternates between suckling at your pearl and licking and sucking your sensitive core, making you cry out his name, reaching your peak against him once more.

Daemon pulls back, his lips shining with evidence of your arousal as he moves up to kiss you again, making you taste yourself on his tongue. The sensation is erotic, to say the very least, and you moan against his lips, whimpering slightly as you feel him running the tip of his cock along your center, teasing you yet again. You squirm, slightly oversensitized by his previous ministrations, but that is long forgotten when he pushes himself inside you.

He fills you up so perfectly, and gods, the way he makes you feel when he begins rutting against you, the the head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot with every thrust, his lips attached to yours, hands holding yours, his thumb tracing over your pulse point in a gesture that feels so very intimate. He’s so big that it is almost painful, but not quite, all you can concentrate on is the mind-blowing pleasure he is giving you. He pushes your knees up to your chest, allowing him to fuck into you at a deeper, faster pace.

Daemon feels you squeezing around him, knowing your release is imminent, and moves his thumb to circle your pearl, your release triggering his own, as he spills his seed deep inside you. As he pulls out of you, he replaces his cock with his fingers, eager to make sure his seed takes, to breed you. And you simply smile at him, blissed out in your post orgasmic haze.

Daemon makes the arrangements for you two to marry shortly thereafter, and as he said, you come to see the Underworld as your home. He has one of the minor goddesses, Alys, the Goddess of Magic, create a garden for you to tend so that you may be near your beloved flowers, something you find to be entirely thoughtful and romantic.

However, your blissful time as newlyweds is cut short when Viserys arrives with Rhaenys and Corlys on his heels, declaring that you must be returned to your parents, that Rhaenys has kept the mortal world in a perpetual state of winter, demanding your return.

You try your best to tell your parents that you love Daemon, that you want to be with him, but they refuse to listen. Your mind wanders to something Daemon had told you months ago, that if one partakes in food from the Underworld, they are bound to return, mortal and immortal alike. He never wished to trap you here, so he had Alys or one of the others go to procure you food from King’s Landing.

But you see a juicy, ripe pomegranate sitting on a plate before you, one that Daemon was just about to eat.

You look between your mother, her face stern as she stares back at you, and at Daemon, who seems entirely forlorn at the thought of you leaving him forever.

And so? You do the only thing you can think of.

You walk to your husband and take the pomegranate from his plate. You take a breath before biting into it, allowing the juices from it to drip down your chin, almost making it seem as though you are soaked in blood. And you kiss your husband once more, in full view of the Goddess of the Harvest, the God of the Sea, and the God of Lightning.

Never again will you allow your fate to be decided for you.

You have chosen him, and you would choose him again, given the chance.

Your Daemon, your husband.

Your king.

#daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x you #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targeryan #my writing #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #targcest #daemon oneshot #mythology au #velaryon!reader

[joyful-enchantress]

Spring Heat (18+) | Loki x Fem!Reader

banner created by the amazing @springdandelixn

A/N: You help your husband through his yearly heat, which is part of the Jotun mating cycle. He's afraid he might hurt you, but you are determined to stay... I wrote this for @springdandelixn and her Double-Trouble Sleepover! Congratulations, Beanie, my love! I hope you enjoy this little fic that I put together for you 🖤

Genre/Warnings: Jotun mating cycle AU, smut (18+), rough sex, choking, dubcon? (everything is consensual but Loki is not entirely in control of himself), language, light angst, fluff too, filth with feeling, established relationship

Word Count: 3182

The sights and sounds of springtime were all around you as you strolled through the palace grounds —

The busy twittering of birds as they searched for food and fought over tree branches on which to build their nests.

The chattering of squirrels and rabbits and other small animals as they came out of hiding to begin a new season of life.

The rich shade of green returning to the grass in the meadow, speckled with pops of color where wildflowers were beginning to bloom.

Speaking of blooming flowers -- the palace gardens were thriving, and in the next couple of weeks were sure to become a spectacle of color, ranging from delicate pastel hues to bright, vibrant tones. Just in time for the Spring Festival that would be held at the end of the month.

Yes, spring was upon you. Your favorite season. It meant warmer temperatures and sunshine and new life.

But despite all the bright cheerfulness that spring brought with it, for your husband, Loki, it also brought with it a certain darkness.

His heat.

Loki was of Jotun blood; a Frost Giant. And with that heritage came certain Jotun traits, some more easily embraced than others. One such trait that your husband found more loathsome than the rest was the Jotun mating cycle.

Each year since his body matured, around the time of the Spring Equinox, Loki would find himself at the mercy of his primal instincts. Unable to control his animalistic urges to mate, he’d lock himself in his chambers until it would pass.

That is, until you had something to say about it.

When you learned of the agony he endured — both physically and emotionally — locked in his chambers for anywhere from one week to one month until his heat cycle passed, you couldn’t bear it. You had to do something to help, if you could.

You remembered the conversation you’d had with him well. It was shortly after your wedding…

————

“Loki, isn’t there anything that would make it easier to endure? Or at least make it come to an end more quickly? I can’t imagine a week of that, let alone a month.”

“Unfortunately, no, darling. There isn’t really anything that can be safely done to help it. The healers can give me an elixir that will suppress it, but I can’t take it every year, or it would lose its effectiveness. And besides, a heat the year after a suppressed heat is always more intense and agonizing.”

Your eyebrow cocked, looking at him with curiosity. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience…?”

He took a deep breath before answering, “Yes, I’ve taken suppressants occasionally in the past. The temptation of a year of reprieve was too great for me to resist at times. But I always found that the following year’s heat was far worse than what is typical. More desperation, more madness, more… pain.”

Your heart broke for him in that moment.

“Why does it last so long, Loki?”

He gave a mirthless chuckle. “It lasts as long as it takes for one of two things to happen. Either it quite literally burns its way out of my system, like a fever that takes weeks to break. Or…”

His voice trailed off, and he looked off into the distance, as if he was searching for his thought amongst the forests and rolling hills.

“Or…?” You gently encouraged him to continue.

Loki let out an exasperated sigh and quietly admitted, “Or… I mate. Breed. Fuck.”

Something about the way he enunciated the hard ‘k’, his Adam’s apple bobbing sinfully as the sound clicked in his throat, had your core throbbing with need and a wave of hot arousal unfolding over your body.

You blinked a few times as you contemplated what he said. “Well that seems easy enough,” you replied cooly, as if you were discussing the weather.

“What…?” He looked at you, perplexed.

“If having a good fuck will bring your agony to an end, then that seems like an easy solution to me. I can help you with that —”

“NO!” His rich baritone voice boomed as it cut you off, dripping with authority, anger, and — was that fear? “You don’t understand, my love. I am not myself when this happens. I lose myself, I lose control. I no longer am capable of keeping up the Asgardian façade; my Jotun form takes over and I am overcome with the primal desire to mate. I lose all regard for decency, I become… a monster. I am a monster.”

“Loki…” you reached a hand up to caress the side of his stupidly beautiful face, running your thumb soothingly along his sharp cheekbone and slotting your palm against his chiseled jaw, which was tightly clenched. A sign of his distress. “I love you, Loki. Let me help you through this.”

“I love you too, darling. More than my life itself. Which is exactly why I can’t let you do this.” He wrapped his large hand around the back of yours and turned his head to the side to tenderly kiss your palm. “It isn’t safe. I could hurt you. Badly.”

“I trust you, Loki. I trust you with my life, no matter what physical form you assume.” The next words you uttered came to you as easily as breathing, “I want to do this. Please. Use me. Use my body to sate your desires and end your own suffering.”

His emerald eyes widened at your words, most likely shocked at how brazen and self-assured they were. But swirling behind the shock was something else. Reverence. Trepidation. And lust.

He slowly swallowed, gathering himself together and collecting his thoughts after you scrambled them with your salacious plea.

“Alright then, darling.” He cautiously relented, his eyes boring into yours, searching for any sign that you were having second thoughts or hints of doubt. “Come springtime, when my next heat cycle is upon me, I’ll let you help me. I’ll let you be the balm that soothes my burning, searing ache.”

————

And now, spring was upon you. And any day now, it would be time to make good on your promise to him. For better or worse. You suddenly had a renewed appreciation for the words you spoke in your wedding vows to him, just 8 months ago.

Loki has been warning you for the past few days that his heat is imminent, and could take over at any time. He could feel it; all the warning signs were there. The restlessness. The irritability. The discomfort. Crawling under his skin like an itch he can't scratch. Until it makes him snap.

Each and every time, he asked if you were still sure. He reminded you that you could change your mind, that he didn't expect you to do this. That he'd never expect you to do this. It was entirely your choice.

And each and every time, you stood firm in your decision. You wanted to help him. You would do this.

The sun was beginning to set on your evening stroll, so you altered your route so that it would lead you back towards the private chambers that you shared with Loki. As you approached the hallway which led to your shared door, you could feel a distinct, unseasonal chill in the air.

Was this it? Was tonight the night?

Once you reached the ornate wooden door, you noticed a thin blanket of frost coating the edges of it, as if, behind the door, was the force of winter itself, its icy chill seeping through the gaps between the door and the frame.

You reflected for a moment on the irony that all this frost and chill was the result of something called a heat, and you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself.

But then you remembered that not just fire, but ice, too, can burn.

A shiver rolled down your spine, and the cold seeping through the doorframe wasn't entirely to blame.

You took a moment to gather your courage, reminding yourself that this was Loki. Your husband. Your one true love.

You could do this.

You softly knocked, each tap of your knuckles against the cold wood sending a jolt of bravery through you.

"Loki... can I come in?"

"Pet..." The voice that answered you was familiar, but more... ragged. It was deeper, if that was even possible, and assumed a huskiness that made your usually gentle husband sound nothing short of feral.

It sent a surge of hot, wet arousal through you, which pooled between your thighs.

"I'm here, Loki..." you whispered like a prayer. "Let me help you."

"This is your last chance, pet," he warned. "You can still change your mind. But the moment you open the door, I'm afraid there will be no going back."

Good thing you had no plans of going back.

You opened the door and stepped into your chambers; after ensuring the door was closed and locked, you took a deep breath. This was it.

As you turned around, you came face to face with your husband.

Except he wasn't quite the Loki you knew. For one thing, he was taller. Much taller. At least 8 feet tall. You briefly wondered how you'd be able to take him in this form. His usually porcelain skin was replaced with a brilliant cerulean, and across every bit of blue that your hungry eyes could find, were ridges that swept across his skin in bold strokes and delicate lines, forming intricate patterns that you longed to trace with your fingers. As your eyes settled on his face, you found some familiarity there. You recognized the bone structure and the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips; the luscious raven locks that framed his angular face were unchanged. But in place of the emerald orbs that you knew and loved were two glistening rubies, staring at you with an intensity that could only be described as ferocious.

He was beautiful. Flawless. You saw no monster before you. Only your husband. Showing you a side of himself that he has kept hidden from you. Until now.

You broke the silence first, and simply muttered, "I love you, and I am here. Use me."

And that was all the permission he needed.

He closed the distance between you impossibly fast, like a predator stalking its prey, and wrapped an icy hand around your throat, squeezing firmly, the coldness stinging like pins and needles against your skin.

His lips met yours with an urgency that you hadn't experienced before; any hint of gentleness was gone and in its place a brutal clash of tongues and teeth as he claimed your mouth, a throaty growl slipping past his lips as he basked in the taste of you on his tongue.

Fear crept up your spine for the first time since you entered, and you brought your small hands up to claw at his wrist, a desperate attempt to let him know that you needed a break; you needed to breathe.

Something within him seemed to get the message, because he peeled his mouth away from yours and released your throat, repurposing his hand to wrap around your midsection and toss you unceremoniously onto the large bed in the center of the room.

You had to admit that part of you enjoyed the way he was manhandling you.

He wasted no time freeing himself from his garments and strode towards the bed, where he situated himself over you, caging in your small frame like a hungry animal about to enjoy the spoils of its hunt.

You gulped at the sight of his enormous cock, as it bobbed angrily against his stomach, covered in the same ridges that decorated the rest of his body, the tip weeping with the evidence of his primal desire. For you.

"These pretty silks have got to go," he rasped against your ear, his breath somehow both hot and cold.

He roughly grabbed the fine fabric and you winced as you heard him rip it to shreds as easily as if your dress was made of flower petals from the garden.

Within seconds, you were bare before him, and his ravenous gaze lazily roamed over your body, savoring every dip and every curve like the sight of you alone could sate him.

Even though that couldn't be further from the truth.

When he decided that his eyes had had their fill, he brought two fingers up to prod against your lips, his gaze meeting yours, daring you to defy him.

But you didn't dare.

You submissively parted your lips and wrapped your mouth around his fingers, astonished at how much your mouth had to stretch just to accommodate them. A wicked smile tugged at his lips as your tongue danced over his digits, preparing them for exploration of another warm, wet hole.

A gasp escaped your lips as his fingers were abruptly pulled from your mouth and pushed inside your weeping cunt. They pumped and stretched you almost as much as his normal cock would, and you shuddered at the thought of what was to come.

The nerves melted away though, as his thumb found your clit and worked the sensitive nub in sweeping circles, pleasure taking over your senses and lulling you into a state of calm.

"Loki..." you whispered softly between your whimpers and pants.

He growled in response, withdrawing his fingers from your soaked pussy and wrapping his hand around your thigh, forcing your legs open as wide as they would go.

Before you had a chance to adjust to the new position, his huge cock was at your slick entrance and he thrust forward, forcing as much of himself inside you as he could, his girth stretching your walls and the tip pushing against your cervix. The sudden intrusion took your breath away, and the stinging pain you felt caused unshed tears to well in your eyes. The coldness of his skin only heightened the sensations, forcing your mouth open in a silent scream as he claimed you.

You loved him. You wanted this. You silently reminded yourself as a large blue hand found your throat once again and wrapped around tightly.

A feral moan left his lips as he began to rut into you roughly. Pushing himself in as far as your body would allow. Over and over. Chasing his own pleasure without regard for your own.

"So warm... So tight... You take me so well, pet." He grunted between thrusts. "You're mine."

You couldn't help the fresh pool of arousal that gushed between your legs in response to his words. Even as he wrecked your body and used it like a toy, you loved nothing more than being his.

His rhythm became sloppy and you knew he was close.

With a wild growl, he pulled out of you and violently flipped you over onto your stomach. You were thankful you were on the mattress and not on the floor in that moment.

His large hands dug into your hips, pulling them upwards and angling you so that he could sink himself once again into your tight cunt. You turned your head to the side, gasping for air between shameless moans as he pounded into you from behind like an animal.

It didn't take long for him to reach his peak; he let out a primal roar as he came, pumping you full of his seed. You felt it leaking out of you, dripping down your inner thighs as he continued to shallowly thrust into you while he rode out his high.

And that was the last thing you remembered before darkness blurred the edges of your vision and you succumbed to exhaustion, your body limp and spent.

--

Later, when you came to, you wiggled your fingers and toes first and slowly worked your way to moving each limb, assessing the soreness. There was an undeniable ache, but nothing you couldn't manage. You sat up in the bed and looked around the room, searching for Loki. Your eyes settled upon his familiar Asgardian form, huddled on the chair in the corner, as if he was putting as much distance as possible between the two of you without leaving you alone. His eyes were red, but not because of his Jotun blood. Because he had been crying.

"Loki, what's wrong?!" you frantically asked.

When he realized you were awake, he rushed to your side. "What's wrong? Love, look at what I've done to you!" He gestured to your body, to the bruises on your inner thighs, your hips, your wrists, your neck. He pointed to the mess between your thighs, to the bit of blood that was on the sheets between your legs. "I'm a monster. A vile, disgusting creature. I should have never let you do this!"

He looked away from you, ashamed.

You reached for his hand, in an effort to reassure him. "Loki, I wanted this. I wanted to help you. I insisted." Your thumb stroked the back of his hand in soothing circles, willing him to believe that you were okay. "And look! It worked. Your heat lasted only a few hours instead of weeks!"

"But at what cost?" He muttered, without meeting your gaze.

"I am your wife. We are a team, in everything. I vowed to be there for you and to love you no matter what, for better or for worse. A few bruises and some soreness are a small price to pay once a year if it means my husband isn't in agony for weeks at a time."

He sheepishly met your gaze then, peering up at you from under his eyelashes.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered softly.

"Yes you do. Because you are the most amazing person I know," you smiled easily as you said it. "Now, I did say we are a team, so if you're done sulking, I do believe it is your turn to do your part. Don't you have some magic healing powers that could soothe some of my aches, or am I misremembering?"

Now it was his turn to smile at you. He got to work straight away, a blanket of green seidr engulfing your body and buzzing through you, soothing away the worst of your residual pain. Then he spent the day spoiling you, running you a hot bath with your favorite rose scented bath oil, pampering you with a massage, and waiting on you hand and foot.

"Darling?"

"Yes, Loki?"

A wolfish grin crept across his lips. "When you've had a day or two to recover, I intend to make last night up to you, tenfold. To drown you in so much pleasure that the only word you'll remember is my name as it falls from your lips like a mantra."

You met his grin with your own cheeky smile. "And I intend to hold you to that, Laufeyson."

His lips met yours, then, in a passionate kiss; one that conveyed all the love and adoration he held for you. Your lover. Your husband. Your everything.

Spring was definitely your favorite season.

--

--

Tagging some lovely people who might be interested. No worries though if not, of course! @lokisgoodgirl @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @cheekyscamp @give-me-a-moose @sarahscribbles @gigglingtigger @ladyofthestayingpower @mischief2sarawr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @wheredafandomat @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @loopsreacts @maple-seed @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @thomase1 @peachyjinx @superficialdomina @peaches1958 @evelyn-kingsley @simplyholl @tallseaweed @cake-writes @tripleyeeet @lokiandbuckysdoll @vbecker10 @lovelysizzlingbluebird

#rolling into spring writing challenge #beanie's double trouble sleepover #beanie's sleepover #spring writing challenge #milestone sleepover #loki #loki laufeyson #jotun loki #jotun loki x reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki smut #loki imagine #loki fic

[eraenaa]

But Daddy, I love Him

Aemond Targaryen x Niece Reader AU

Synopsis: When the favored daughter of Daemon Targaryen falls for the favored son of Alicent Hightower, the Rogue Prince does everything he can to ensure that a union between the two of you will never happen. 

Warnings: Not Proofread, ¿Softer Aemond and Daemon?, No Smut

Word Count: 5,019

It could no longer be denied nor be overlooked. It was growing painfully obvious to the court that the only daughter of Princess Rhaenyra has had her head turned by the second son of Queen Alicent. Everyone believed that the only thing the second-borns of the Princess and the Queen would share was animosity. Still, the return of Princess Rhaenyra and her kin to the capitol brought something different— something entirely unexpected. It started with stolen glances around the tilt yard and the halls of the red keep. Stolen glances lingered throughout dinner and the trial. Meeting in the library by chance turned into secret rendezvous. Banter and teases blended into meaningful conversations. Animosity turned to affection. Loathing bloomed into love. A love that cannot be.

“You look lovely, today, niece,” Aemond complimented as he caught you in the gardens. The prince relished the sweet blush that spread through your cheeks. “Shh, you might be heard,” You whispered in concern as your brothers were only seated a few leagues away. He hummed and dared to twirl your silky, curly hair into his fingers. “Shall you join me for a ride today, uncle?” You asked and took a flower into your delicate hands. You turned to the silver prince, who had a small, rare smile as he peered down at you. You boldly placed the plucked flower into the upper pocket of his tunic. “If you wish,” He answered, making you bite your lip as he stepped closer. “To the dragon pits then?” You asked, and Aemond offered his arm for you to take, and you gladly did. 

Prince Daemon stood above the gardens and watched the scene with a sneer. He had been stewing in rage, fear, and uncertainty for the past few weeks. You could no longer be reasoned with. In his eyes, you could never do no wrong. You had never done anything wrong— his favorite daughter was perfect. But apparently, your return to the capitol had caused you to make a lapse in judgment. Trusting a Hightower spawn was a great mistake on your part. You, his smart and sweet daughter, have been corrupted and manipulated by the one-eyed bastard of a son of the bitch that had the title queen. It pained the Rogue prince, but he had to take extreme measures to ensure that you would never be bound and be played by a Hightower spawn. 

You rode the skies next to your uncle. A wide smile on your lips and laughs, leaving your tongue as he playfully chased you through the clouds. His Vhagar may be the largest dragon there is, but she is also the oldest. Whilst your dragon had the quickness and agility of youth. “You’ll have to try harder than that, uncle!” You yelled in glee as you heard his frustrated groan when he lost you through a cloud. “I will catch you, little niece— and you shall give me my prize when I do,” He answered back, and you laughed in glee as your dragon rode through a cloud, making your stomach flip. “That is if you shall succeed!” You yelled before urging your dragon to fly faster and further from the prince. 

The afternoon sun started to fade, bathing the two of you in the orange hue of the setting sun, and it was then that Aemond finally caught up to you. When you landed by the pits, you were quickly grabbed by the waist. Entrapped in the arms of an uncle you used to loathe. “I demand my prize, little niece,” He murmured by your ear. You feel your heart stutter, and at the same time, you feel conscious as the two of you may be caught. “I demand my kiss, princess,” he said, and you feel your breathing shallowed by his words and the sound of footsteps approaching. You two were luckily hidden behind the body of your beloved dragon. “Tonight, meet me in the library and you shall have my kiss, my prince,” You said and reluctantly urged him to let go of his hold of you. 

When the two of you turned to the reason for the footsteps, your brows furrowed as you were both met with a gold cloak. “Can we help you, Ser?” you asked as Aemond cautiously assessed the trusted man of your father; stepping in front of you as if the knight would harm you. “Princess, I was sent by your father to escort you back into the keep.” He bowed and answered, but that did not aid your confusion. “It’s fine; I shall ride back to the keep with my uncle,” You answered, but the knight insisted that he had a direct order from the Rogue Prince that you shall return to the Red Keep under his supervision. “Just go; I shall ride behind you,” Aemond finally spoke after a moment, guiding you to the wheelhouse and glaring at the knight who interrupted the supposed private moment between the two of you. 

When inside the castle walls, you were greeted by your father and eldest brother as you disembarked the wheelhouse. “I see you have met Ser Adam,” Your father remarked at the knight who helped you step out of the carriage. “He shall be your sworn protector,” Prince Daemon added, his gaze turning to a prince who greatly reminded him of himself during his youth riding, following closely behind you. “Sworn protector? I— I do not believe there is a need fo—“ Your father cut you off, taking your arm and stirring you further from the one-eyed prince who dared to step closer to you after he had disembarked his horse. “You are the only daughter of the heir to the throne— of course, you need protecting. Ser Adam shall be constantly by your side, and he shall report back to me and your mother for any potential threat that arises.” You looked back, confused, locking eyes with Aemond, who had his jaw clenched as he conversed with your brother. 

“So I take it that my sister and brothers have their own sworn protectors as well?” You asked, feeling that you were singled out by your father’s sudden paranoia about your safety. “They too shall have one… in time,” He mumbled the last part, making your head snap up at him. “But in the meantime, Ser Adam shall oversee your ventures and activities. No more venturing out in the halls in the dead of the night alone. He shall be there by your side if any danger arises while you are in the dim walls of the library,” Your lips part as you realize that the knight was placed as a buffer, a wall between you and Aemond. You bit your tongue and made no further comment about the matter for now. 

When dinner came, you were excited because it meant that you would be in the presence of Aemond once more, enveloped in quiet conversation with the prince who sat by your left. But a frown adorned your pretty face once more as your seat beside Aemond was removed and instead placed cramped between Aegon and your elder brother. You hear Aemond’s familiar footsteps approaching; you turn to him as your brother guides you to your new place. Aemond knew exactly what they were doing. His jaw tightened as they had been keeping you from him. He knew he should have been cautious with his affection when out in public, knowing it would not be received well. But how could he restrain himself? How could he control himself when you are near? 

Throughout dinner, the two of you were silent, missing, and already longing to be by each other’s side once again. The prince’s face was filled with annoyance, his lips in a thin line. You held a look of solemnity, and a pout adorned your plush pink lips. Daemon turned to Jacaerys, the two of them satisfied with their tactics in keeping you and Aemond out of each other’s company. 

After dinner, you hear your newly assigned knight trail behind you as you walk the path toward the library. You sighed as you heard the clank of his armor. “You can stay by the door, Ser Adam,” You say as you approach the silent room, Aemond already waiting for you in your favorite spot. “I am afraid that I cannot abide by your orders, princess,” He said, and you bit your tongue; you could not let out your frustrations upon him as he was only ordered by your father. You took your seat across from Aemond; the prince eyed the knight who stood behind your chair. 

“What is he doing here?” Aemond asked in ancient tongue, annoyance seeping through his tone. “My father has instructed him to follow me wherever I go… instructed him to report back all of my ventures,” You answered and played with the embroidery of your fine dress as your pals for the night with Aemond were now ruined. “They are keeping you from me,” Aemond gritted, his hand clenching in anger. “And why should they do that?” You asked with a tilt of your head, moving to take hold of his hand, but the knight behind you cleared his throat as if a warning. You sighed and licked your lips and clamped your hands in front of you. “Because they are scared— threatened that…” Aemond caught himself before he uttered the deep truth he had realized just a week after you had returned. “That what?” You asked in common tongue. Aemond sighed and shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “That I would burn for you, little light. That we are dragons that need to be bound by blood.” 

You, being the watchful eyes of your sworn protector, did not last long. Aemond had commissioned some of the guards to pick a fight with your knight, and it left him bloody, bruised, and bedridden. Buying the two of you a small amount of freedom in each other’s presence before your father could find a replacement. 

The two of you were in the godswood, hidden behind the white, ashy trunk of the Weirwood tree, away from anyone’s view. Aemond laid his head on your lap as you read a book written in the language of your house, him listening intently to your honey voice as it read fluent Valyrian. “You still have not given me my prize,” The prince suddenly said as you paused from reading. You turned to him, gazing down at the serenity on his handsome face as he lay on your lap.  One of your hands intertwined with his and resting atop his chest. “What?” You asked, feeling your stomach flip at the intensity in his eye. “You still have not given me my kiss,” Aemond said, voice growing deeper and more serious. 

You tried to laugh it off, moving your intertwined hands to your lips and kissing the back of his hand. “There,” you say, but Aemond sat up from his position. “That is not the kiss we discussed, princess,” He whispered, face inching forward to yours. You feel his cold hand on the apex of your neck and shoulder, pulling you in and sending gooseflesh to rise all over your skin. “Just one kiss,” You whispered as his lips were so close to yours, his scent of cedar wood, mint, and leather so intoxicating. “We’ll see,” he said and smashed your lips. Your heart stuttered for a moment, feeling his warm, soft, wine-tasting lips upon yours. It was supposed to be only a chaste kiss, you knew you should pull away, but as Aemond placed his hand on your waist and pulled you close, you knew you did not have the strength nor want to do so. 

Unbeknownst to you, your secret actions with your uncle were caught by your eldest brother, who did not hesitate to run to your mother’s husband to report the scene. On how yours and Aemond’s lips danced, on how you grinned at each other as you acted to catch your breath, gazing at each other love-struck. On how your kiss under the scarlet leaves of the ancient tree had only solidified your emotions and deepened your desires for each other.

You were soon called to your mother’s chambers later that afternoon. “No, please! Please, you cannot do this to me— why… why would you marry me to him?” You cried to your mother as they announced that you were to be sent to the North as a bride for its warden. It was the extreme measure your father had to take to keep you away from Aemond. Sequestering you into the frigid wasteland just so a one-eyed dragon would not lay more of its claim on you. “You had promised me I was free to choose whom I shall marry!” You cried in front of them, knowing your tears had always been your trusted weapon to bend them to your will. “I’m sorry, my love… but, the crown needs allies… a union with Lord Stark is vital.” You shook your head, “The North is already sworn to you! You need not promise me to their lord,” You countered. “It was a decision your father believed had to be made, and it is to—“

Your mother’s words faded out, and you could only focus on how it was your father’s orders to offer you to a lord you had not even met. His cruel way of keeping you from Aemond. “My father is dead,” You suddenly gritted out, silencing your mother in shock as you said the bitter words. Though you were a product of Ser Harwin Strong, and the kingdom was made to believe that your paternity came from the line of Ser Laenor— neither of those men were fathers to you. Not like Daemon was. It stung you to say such words, but you were overly hurt that he had made such a decision just to keep you from the prince you loved. 

“My father is dead; how could he have made such a decision?” You asked and dug your fingernails into your palms. Your mother sighed as you and Daemon stared each other down. “Daemon made the decision,” She clarified. “You are heir to the throne, but you would let a prince consort dictate the future of your only daughter?” You asked, menacingly. Watching the way your step-father’s jaw ticks at your impertinence. He did not know how to handle you in such a state; you were never one to rebel, but what was there to rebel against when everything you had ever wanted was quickly given to you? 

“That is beside the point, my love; you still need to marry.” Your mother said, and you shifted your gaze to her. “I know! And I am happy to do so just as long as—“ Daemon cut you off. “Just as long as what?” He asked, “Just as long as it will be Aemond.” You proclaimed. “I wish to marry him, and he wishes to marry me as well! You are the only one against this!” You all but screamed with a stomp of your foot. Making your father roll his eyes and disapprovingly shake his head as they had filed you up with their lies. “You see, Nyra… look at how they had manipulated our daughter… they filled up her head with falsities— this had been their plan all along.” Daemon reasoned to your other, who looked in between the two of you with concern and cluelessness on how to proceed. 

“Look at how they corrupted her… arguing, yelling, insulting us just to defend their disfigured son. They are playing her!” he spat bitterly. “Do not call him that,” you gritted to Daemon as he uttered offense toward Aemond. There was a silence that enveloped the room before you finally spoke once more. “Father, please… I love him,” you pleaded, ready to beg on your knees just for you not to be sent as a bride for a wolf. Daemon looked at your eyes, sincerity in your orbs, gut-wrenching sadness as pearl tears ran through your cheeks; that still did not sway his mind. “The decision is made. You shall be Cregan Stark’s bride.” He stated and walked off, leaving you to cry and wail in your mother’s arms. 

Aemond eyed you with concern as you sat dejectedly in your place next to your brother and his. Your head hung low, and not once had you cast your enchanting eyes upon him— or anyone else for that matter. His hold on his knife is tighter as he realizes you have not a bite of your supper. His gaze went murderous as he finally saw your bloodshot eyes and trembling lips. They had made you cry. He turned to your father, a harsh look on his face, whilst your mother looked at you wistfully. Aemond then turned to Jacaerys, a smug look on his plain face.

As supper ended, Aemond was the first to leave the table. He made fast steps and entered your chambers to hide there, needing to speak with you, and he was certain that would not be possible whilst you were in the presence of your kin. He hid behind the pillar as he heard the door creek and your somber voice bidding Lucerys ‘good night.’ When he heard the door shut and bared, he made his presence announced. 

It was then that he saw a clear view of your state: eyes swollen and red, lips trembling, nose sniffling, soft cheeks flush with sadness. “My light… what has happened?” he asked. You said no word, only ran to his arms and let you hold him as the tears came like rivers once more. “They’re… they’re marrying me to Cregan Stark,” You said in between sobs. Aemond felt the air knocked out of him, his form turn rigged and was immediately filled with dread. “What?” He asked, hoping what he heard was a misunderstanding. “They offered me as a bride to Cregan Stark. He shall arrive in a few days to be presented to grandfather, and we shall leave for the North in a fortnight.” 

Aemond sat you down on your plush bed, wiping away your hot tears with his cold fingers. “You will never be his,” he swore, looking deeply into your eyes as your tears did not cease. I shall speak with your parents,” he said and tried to soothe you by running his hand through your hair and caressing your cheek. “Aemond, they wouldn’t even listen to me… their minds are made,” You said sadly. Your prince only shook his head and kissed the top of your brow. “You are a dragon. Wolves do not deserve dragons,” was all he said before kissing your lips again, hoping the action would distract you from your sadness because he could no longer stomach seeing you cry. 

“They would never approve of us,” You whispered to Aemond as he held you to his chest. He tried to lull you to sleep, but your mind was distraught. “I do not care for their approval,” he uttered atop your head, inhaling deeply the scent of you. “But—“ You hear Aemond sigh and pull you closer to his leather-clad chest. “You will be mine, my light, just as it ought to be. Forget their qualms and objections— my uncle and his disapproval is a challenge I’ll happily welcome, just as long as you will forever be mine.” He stated as his fingers twirled your hair, “Let us just rest, ñuha ōños,” he murmured, and you did as told. Savoring the first and probably the last time in his hold. 

“What are you planning?” Ser Criston asked as Aemond spent more hours in the tiltyard. The arrival of his betrothed had only spurred him to fight harder, train more, and let out his rage at the knights. “Pick your weapon,” was all the prince said as he wiped away the sweat off his forehead. “Tell me the reason for your more frequent sessions first,” the knight stated. Lilac eye flickered above the tiltyard, Aemond's jaw clenching and nostrils flared as he saw you walking around with the warden of the north, chaperoned by your brother. Ser Criston’s eyes followed the prince’s gaze, realization shining through his brown orbs. “My prince, you—“ He was cut off. 

“I shall be challenging the warden to a duel for the hand of my niece,” he proclaimed and urged the knight to pick up his weapon. “But she is a bastard,” Ser Criston muttered lowly. Aemond's eye widened, and he had to greatly retrain himself from maiming the knight who stood as his father figure. “She will be my wife.” He proclaimed and returned to his training. 

When all were gathered in the throne room to announce their betrothal to Lord Stark, Aemond stepped away from his sibling and drew out his sword, bravely challenging the warden in front of the eyes of the court and his father, the king. You felt your stomach pit in fear, for you did not know that this was the plan Aemond had devised. You had half the mind that he would have the two of you escape to YiTi and live freely there. You hear your father and brother’s disapproval of the duel, but you hear your grandfather’s agreement to it. Lord Stark had little choice but to accept the challenge. You turn to your mother, her lips in a thin line and hands fiddling with her rings, her expression unreadable as he watched men argue before the throne, dictating her only daughter’s fate. She felt your eyes upon her, and she took your hand into hers as fear was evident in your gaze. “It will be fine, my love,” She muttered lowly, but you had trouble believing her words. 

When night came, the supposed family supper was discarded as both sides were furious and confused at what had transpired in the throne room. “She will not marry him— I would rather feed myself to Caraxes than watch our daughter marry a spawn of those cunts.” Daemon muttered to his wife and downed a whole chalice of wine, quickly moving to refill it once more. “She loves him,” was all your mother could mutter as she plainly saw the affection in your eyes. “And he loves her,” she added as he saw the tenderness and warmth in her half-brother’s usually cold, lone eye. Daemon scoffed and turned to his wife. 

“Not you too— Rhaenyra, you cannot buy into their deceit! You cannot let your daughter be bound to that—“ The princess cut her husband off. “Why? Why are you so against this? Put your pride and animosity towards Otto and Alicent aside… our daughter has made it clear that she wants Aemond— and he, too, made it clear that he wants our daughter. There is no underlying deceit from his intentions… what will they even gain? The crown passes to Jacaerys; Aemond wants our daughter, not for power or whatever reason you had sold yourself to greatly disagree to this match!” Daemon shook his head at his wife’s words. “We need allies. We need the North.” He said, but Rhaenyra shook her head. “You are preparing for a war that may not come— already sacrificing our daughter on the way! And she is right. The North is already sworn to me. A Stark never forgets their oath. And if they need further convincing, my daughter and her happiness is too great a price to pay for them to keep their word.” Your mother defended. She watched as her husband’s jaw clenched and his hold on the chalice grew tighter. 

“Daemon, you and I had both been subjected to marriages, not of our choosing, a marriage devised for peace and power but ultimately led to death and devastation… you cannot be so cruel to subject her to such a fate.” Rhaenyra said softly and walked towards her husband, urging him to change his mind. The prince breathed out heavily, “We shall see in the duel if he truly deserves her,” 

You nervously traced the embroidery of your dress as you watched your prince battle with the Warden of the North. Both men still yet to tire as they galloped towards each other with their jousting sticks. You feel your mother reach for your hand as your leg bounces up and down in anticipation and fear. You took in a sharp breath as the Warden was thrown off his horse, and Aemond was quick to disembark his and draw out his sword. You chewed on your lip as you shielded your gaze from the men, your bloodstream filled with fear as you heard the clang of swords and their exhausted grunts. You hear the cheers of the audience grow louder, and you feel bile rising to your throat. You shut your eyes tightly and prayed to the gods and fates for it to end soon— for it to end and for Aemond to emerge victorious. 

Your prayers were quick to be answered as you snapped your eyes open at the enraged screams of your brother and father— the prince having the warden on his knees and a sword upon his throat. “Surrender, my lord,” The prince breathed, his eye scanning upwards, in search of you. “Surrender, and you will keep your life!” The prince yelled, and you fisted your dress with each moment the warden did not concede. But when he finally raised his arms up and dropped his sword, lowly saying his surrender, you were finally able to breathe freely. “Our champion, Prince Aemond Targaryen!” Someone yelled, and cheers hollered around you, but they were quick to fade as your eyes locked with the man you can now call your soon-to-be husband. 

The wedding was quick to come, no matter the reluctance of your father and older brother. You were marrying Aemond. Other members of your kin were finally accepting the union, seeing how you both were truly enthralled and in love with one another. They no longer held disapproval as they realized how bright and intense you burned for each other. 

You were in your chambers, the final preparations made to you as you were about to be bound to the one-eyed prince in the eyes of men and the gods. “You look… you look exquisite, my sweet,” Your mother sighed and cupped your cheeks, her eyes and voice filled with heavy emotion. You tightly embraced your mother as she was the only one who was truly on your side when it came to your union with Aemond. Your heart throbbed melancholically as you were to be married without the support or blessing of the man who had become your father. You walked out of the chambers with your mother by your side, her being the only one to escort you towards the grand doors that would lead you to the great hall where Aemond waited by the end of it. She gave you one last kiss on your cheek before stepping aside and walking towards a side entrance and waiting along with the other guests; absent was the presence of Daemon. 

As the banquet went on and your hand was freely clasped around your husband, you tried not to let your sadness be shown as the man who stepped in, as your father was not anywhere in sight. Aemond could feel your sadness no matter how hard you tried to hide it; he brought the back of your hand to his cool lips and hoped it brought you comfort. You flashed him a small smile and leaned in closer, “A dance, my wife?” He asked, his heart stuttering as a genuine smile spread to your lips. 

He led you to the floor and placed his hand on your waist. No more secret touches, no more possibility of scandal, for in the eyes of the gods and men, you were Aemond’s, and Aemond was yours. As your husband spun you around and kept his steady hold upon you, your mind was finally distracted by the sadness it felt as Daemon was absent on your most joyous day. The thought of your father did not occur to you as you danced until you and your husband saw him approaching. Aemond was attentive to your reaction as he approached, ready to challenge his uncle for the distress and sadness he bestowed upon you. “I wish to dance with my daughter,” He announced, and you felt Aemond’s hold on your waist tighten; he was about to speak, but you nodded and reassured him it was fine. Aemond reluctantly stepped away, and you were left in the presence of your father. 

There was silence at first as you were once again spun for the dance, but you soon broke it. “You did not attend our ceremonies.” You said, voice a tad bitter and resenting. You hear your father’s aggravated sigh. “I know you think he is playing me… I know you believe this whole ordeal is a farce, but it’s not. He loves me, father. And I love him greatly,” You say and urge him to understand. “You— your marriage is something I do not approve of.” You hear him utter, making your stomach pit, “But it is clear that you truly love him…” he trailed, his eye turning to your husband, who had his watchful gaze upon you, ready to come to your aid, the moment he sensed distress. “… And I suppose his intentions are genuine,” he relents. You turn your now hopeful gaze upon him, “I do not believe he deserves you, but if he truly makes you happy, who am I to stand in your way? I will not hinder you anymore.” You processed her father’s words. “Do you truly mean it?” You asked, voice thick with emotion, “I do,” he sighed and kissed the top of your head. You smiled widely as heaviness in your heart faded with the blessing of your father was finally bestowed upon you and your husband.

#aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond modern au #prince aemond #aemond x niece!reader #prince aemond x reader #prince aemond fic #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond x you #daemon targaryen #hotd daemon #hotd fandom

[peachypede]

Au: What if humans had pokemon types?

The idea struck me after seeing some of @bluebellowl ‘s art of Ingo and Emmet wielding flames and electricity and I was thinking ooo what if humans had typings.

Then I made an au with a bunch of headcanons…

More below the cut

(Almost forgot to add that I took some inspo from @critterbitter ‘s Elesa hairstyle because I love how they draw her hair in the back all spiky, electricy like in some of their drawing just yes)

- most humans are purely 1 type, but a rare person may have a dual typing. (Ingo and Emmet are dual types that cover their least publicly liked typing with their more favorable type)

- Some types are more stigmatized and feared than others for have abilities/features that are frightening: Bug, Ghost, Psychic, Poison and Dark types are the 5 most stigmatized groups.

- Most humans have very small or weak abilities, but some are capable of amazing feats.

- Humans tend to favor pokemon partners that share their typings since it’s easier to connect and communicate but some people do like opposite or different typings.

- When babies are born, they’re given a test to see what type they are so their parents will know how to handle their abilities.

- Each types abilities include:

Normal - Sadly, this typing doesn’t get much special abilities. They’re normal humans. A very, very rare normal type can send a hyper beam out of their mouth.

Fire - Can control small flames and are fire resistant. They can warm their bodies up to feverish temperatures without being sick. Some can breathe fire and have flame like hair. Fire types often have irrational fears of water.

Water - They can control small amounts of water. Their skin gets dried out easily and they have to take showers frequently or have humidifiers in their homes. A few individuals have gills that allows them to breathe fully underwater.

Grass - They can breathe life into plants and cause flowers to bloom. If they have a garden, they’ll produce giant and delicious fruit. Some can make plants move on their own, but this is a rare ability. When happy, a lot of grass-type people will sprout plants on their heads. Some even have plant like hair.

Electric - Able to cause small electric shocks and store bits of electricity. Can turn off and on appliances without touching them. Those who take time to learn can communicate with electric Pokémon using the electrical language all electric types know. They can also talk to humans in electric language who are electric types as well.

Ice - Freezing to the touch and tolerant to below zero temps. They can freeze the surface of water by touching their hand to it. They’re a rare type that hardly leave frosty mountain cities and towns because they’re prone to overheating in warmer weather.

Fighting - Stronger than other humans, but few reach true inhumane strength. Rare individuals have an extra set of arms like Machamp. Most take pride in their strength and hone their skills their entire lives.

Poison - Immune to poisons, some even have poisonous breath or saliva. Most of them have to wear masks around people who aren’t fellow poison types. Some individuals have multicolored skin, like frogs warning others that they’re dangerous. People of this type like steel types, because they can remove their masks for once around these people who are immune to them.

Ground - Can feel vibrations in the ground and if they learn, can properly use this as another sense of sight and see things underground. Rare individuals can make the ground shake and have long claws for digging. Some families are known for living underground where they feel more at ease.

Flying - they have a very keen eye for long distance sight. Lots of people with this type have wings. Not all can fly, since one needs large wings and hollow bones to do so, but some can. Most however are gliders. Some have feathers instead of body hair.

Psychic - People with this type usually have one “talent” ability, such as levitating objects or seeing the future. It’s rare for an individual to have more than one of these talents but it has happened before. They’re seen as power houses amongst the other types for their special abilities and usually are seen offering their services in exchange for coin.

Bug - They can attract a lot of bug type pokemon to them via pheromones and with practice, they can even control them. Like ants, bug types can talk through pheromones like alerting to danger, creating trails, or even just generally talking like electric types do (its not all just attracting mates although bugs are more likely to be attracted to other bug people) Grass types dislike the smell of bug types, whereas flying types get hungry around them. Rumor has it that bugs can control others through their pheromones but its just a rumor. Pheromones make it easy to persuade, but can’t truly control people.

Rock - They have skin as tough as rocks and most can dig through rock itself. Rare people look like a cluster of rocks themselves. They dislike water since it erodes away their skin, so they take mud baths and showers instead.

Ghost- Many can float above the ground and go through walls. Similar to ice types, They are cold to the touch. They can see ghost type pokemon even if they are invisible. Rare abilities are being able to see and commune with human spirits. (And only once a century is there an individual who has truly open eyes and can see the entire world of the dead walking amongst the living) People who fear this type spread rumors that ghost types are evil and can raise the dead to do their bidding, but these are only rumors.

Dragon - Noble types that are descended from long blood lines. A lot of individuals have scales and wings and claws. Rare ones can breathe fire. Once in every 100 years there will be a dragon-type who can communicate and wield their type’s pokemon with high efficiency, even mighty legendaries. Families of dragons can be very prideful and look down on other types. Noble families don’t like their children mingling or marrying other types.

Dark - A stigmatized group to the point that their typing is labeled as the “evil” type in some languages. Many have a bad luck effect on the people around them and some can sense disasters before they happen. Dark types often are lonely because of their bad luck charm abilities make other people wary of them.

Steel - Most in this group have skin that shines like a type of metal and are able to bend metals in their hands. They’re immune to poison and bug types abilities, and often are friends with these stigmatized types because of this.

Fairy - This group have small magical abilities and unluck the dark type, they have a lucky effect around them. Some individuals have wings, some have unnaturally colored hair. Fairies have a high social standings with other types because they’re thought to do nothing wrong, when fairies actually often have trouble makers in the midst of them taking advantage of this.

#au: human types #submas #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #gym leader elesa #peachy draws #its been a bit since an au has made me this excited but ye!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

For the Love of God(dess) || CL16 {2}

Summary: Greek God/dess AU. You show Charles a part of your world and he shows you a part of his. Warnings: angst, fluff WC: 2.6k Part One || Two

The old stone path should have been worn for all the centuries that it had been used as the entrance to Olympus but it was still as perfect as it was the first time you walked it. Nothing ever changed, not since the war ended and a new hierarchy settled among the gods. For two thousand years nothing had changed in the Eternal City.

“Love, what have you done?” The imposing form of Ares filled the road to your temple, his arms the size of your waist. His molten red eyes barely glanced at the man at your side before snapping back with a double take. “Kàrolos?”

“Uh, so everyone keeps saying,” he answered quietly, his eyes sizing up the God of War as he spoke for the first time since arriving through the portal. “And you are?”

“Intrigued,” Ares said with a smirk. “Good luck.”

The god vanished and Charles rubbed at his head, murmuring, “Fucking weird dream.”

“You’ll wake up soon,” you sighed. It might not be the wake up he expected, but it was coming - you just had to find Athena. “I know someone who can help make sense of this, we just need to get you back to my place first. It’s right over h-” your words froze as turned towards your temple. 

Where grey stone walls had stood, great white pillars of marble rose. Where empty garden beds lay, hundreds of white roses bloomed. 

Your temple had been restored.

“This is your home?” Charles asked, a little awestruck by the sounds of it. It was quite amusing that he walked among the gods but he found beauty in a building of all things.

“Our home.”

“I have a home - in Monaco.”

You opened your mouth to argue but saw the quiet desperation in his features. He was clinging to his humanity and it forced you to remember that this wasn’t the Kàrolos you knew, this was a stranger. The only resemblance they held were their eyes, but they were the window to the soul and they still had the same soul. 

“Let’s just go inside.”

The doors beyond the marble arch swung open on your approach and the interior had changed just as much. The vast room was open to the sunlight and a fountain filled the centre, the sound of bubbling water a calming feature. Open arches led to more rooms but you made your way to the furthest one. 

Charles followed sedately into the bedroom and out onto the balcony that overlooked the city. Above rose the peak which Zeus had claimed, his golden palace glittering beneath Apollo’s sunshine. Below, the forests of Artemis spread far and wide with lush green canopies and the Orlias river winding through it. 

Your palms warmed on the stone railing as you watched a herd of deer pick their way to the river for a drink. “I know you have a million questions and I’m sorry for…everything.”

Charles’ shoulder leaned into yours as he drank in the scenery but he jumped back when an owl swooped in, the spotted wings brushing his cheek. A flash of light burst from the owl and bare feet touched down on the balcony. 

“Hmmm, you have had quite the night, Love,” she said with an appreciative look over Charles. She reached out to his face with a smile and wiggled her fingers. “May I?”

“Why? What are you going to do? Who are you?”

“So many questions,” she laughed. “I am Athena, I am knowledge, and if you want the answers then you will let me touch you.”

He looked to you for help and gods damned if it didn’t make something in your chest hurt before you nodded. He swallowed the fear of the unknown and trusted you as he stepped into her waiting hands. Lightning shattered his brain, blinding him with flashes of images that moved too fast to see. But he knew. Knowledge expanded and exploded in his mind at an exponential rate until he knew everything. Thousands of years of history burned into his retina in less than a second. The history of the gods and goddesses that called this place home. The history of the wars and the destruction it brought. The history of you and everything you lost.

He knew it all. And it hurt more than the pain that splintered his head.

He didn’t even realise he collapsed until he felt the softest mattress dip beneath his weight as you laid him down. Your concerned face appeared above him, the sun catching your hair and weaving a golden halo around the strands. A thought crossed his mind and he laughed, shaking his head.

“What?” you asked curiously as his fingers twitched like he had to fight the urge to reach out to you.

“When we met I thought you looked like a goddess, but of course you do. You are.” He looked to the balcony but the owl had already taken flight back to her palace on the hill. “I’m not him, you know.”

“I know.” The man you loved had died a long time ago. You had your time together, no matter how short, and you had mourned for him. It was time to move on. “I don’t want you to be Kàrolos. I want to learn who you are, Charles.”

“And what if you don’t like who I am?”

“I am the Goddess of Love,” you teased, climbing onto the bed to sit beside him. “My arrows don’t work unless there is compatibility between the souls. Psyche is probably better off explaining that but my power only amplifies what attraction is already there. Can’t say I have been on the receiving end of it before. This will take some getting used to.”

“What will?”

“The want, the need to touch you,” you confessed as you looked down at your hands that gripped the bedspread tightly. “It is difficult to be this close and not reach out.”

Charles frowned. “You loved Kàrolos but you didn’t use an arrow?”

“Not everyone needs an arrow to fall in love. Like I said, it only amplifies. People find love on their own everyday, only some need a little poke in the right direction. Those friends who have been dancing around each other for years, the abused who don’t think they are worthy of being loved, the colleagues who only flirt at work. The fates weave their tapestry with a trillion threads of life and when there is a snag, like two lovers who failed to meet, then I repair it so the loom can continue its creation.”

Charles blinked as he began to understand how complex the roles of the gods were. “Fuck.” 

You laughed and his lips tugged up at the sound. 

“I don’t mind, if you want to touch me,” he admitted quietly, reaching for your hand and unfurling it from the bedding. His hand was larger than yours but your fingers settled between his comfortably and your body sagged with relief. “So what do we do now?”

You shrugged, not exactly knowing the answer yourself. Time was plentiful so there was no rush, but you were eager to find out who it was your heart had been given to. “What do you enjoy?”

Charles’ smile dropped as he suddenly remembered the world he had left behind. “Shit, we need to go back. I have a race this week.”

–

“Breaking News: Peace had been brokered between nations all over the globe in a dramatic turn of events. For more information we will be heading to our correspondent at the United Nations HQ…”

Charles turned off the TV in the hotel but he didn’t miss the way your eyes remained fixed on the screen, or the way your lip wobbled. Crossing the room, he grabbed your hands and bent his knees so you were eye to eye. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my fault,” you whispered through the lump in your throat. “I failed my duties.”

He looked back at the TV where you could still see the breaking news. Peace had come after two thousand years of skirmishes and wars on the mortal plane. There should have never been wars to begin with. 

“That isn’t your fault,” he argued, but he had the knowledge of the gods, he understood how your power worked. The gods were a fragile ecosystem that required balance. You were the balance to Ares’ power and his effect on the world.

“I was weakened when Kàrolos died, I lost half of myself, half of my strength. It left Ares unchecked - of course it is my fault.”

Charles wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head into the crook of his neck so you couldn’t stare at the TV. “You’re making things right now, that’s what matters.”

“It’s not even me,” you laughed bitterly. “It’s you. I couldn’t do this on my own.”

“Come on,” he said as he started to drag you towards the door.

“Where are we going?”

“You need a distraction, and I know just the thing.” 

Charles drove to the circuit he would be practising on in the morning and it was relatively quiet as he led you through the paddock. A few teenagers excitedly asked for photos with him and you smiled as he stopped to talk with each one. He was so different to Kàrolos. Kàrolos was a warrior, proud and unmoving. Most children gave him a wide berth when they saw the scars that littered his body. It wasn’t in him to idly chatter or placate others, the only soft spot he had was for you. 

“You’re very patient,” you commented as he waved goodbye and continued to the edge of the track. 

He smiled shyly and looked at his shoes as he shrugged. “I try my best to talk to fans, especially when I have the time. Take a few laps with me?”

You followed his gaze to a Ferrari that was parked in the pit lane. “I’ve never been in a car.”

“No, really?” His eyes were wide with disbelief and you laughed at the innocence in those eyes. 

“I go where I want, I’ve never needed to drive.”

He grabbed your hand and excitement flowed through you as he set a quick pace to the car. “Trust me?” he asked as he opened the passenger door.

You were immortal so it didn’t matter if he crashed. Sure, it would hurt but you would eventually heal. But the question felt heavier than just asking if you trusted him not to crash, more that you could trust him to keep you safe. “Yes, I trust you, Charles.”

You slipped into the seat that was moulded to cradle you before he bent down and buckled the clips in for you. His cologne reached your nose at the close proximity and you inhaled deeper as you committed the rich scent to your memory. 

“Is this comfortable?” he asked as he tugged the harness.

“It is…managable.” Restrictive, confined, and claustrophobic came to mind but you didn’t want to worry him as he went around to his side. There was energy in his step that had been missing in Olympus, an ambience that brightened the moment he arrived at the racing track, and you wanted to keep that light in his aura. 

“We’ll take the first one slow,” he promised as he started the engine and gripped the wheel. 

You had flown into battle on the back of a pegasus, you had held onto the fins of charybdis as they raced through Posiden’s domain. Nothing came close to the thrill and the speed of Charles’ car. 

Your heart jumped up your throat as you were thrown back into the seat and then the world around you blurred. Everything faded away except for the window ahead and you didn’t dare blink in case you missed a moment. There were no thoughts on the what ifs of the future, or the regrets of your past. There was only the car, and Charles grinning at you.

“Are you sure this is slow?” you asked with a giddy laugh as the adrenaline reached your head and the initial surprise was erased.

“Hold on, cherie.” The engine roared louder and like a beast it leapt forward. A scream of exhilaration filled the car as Charles lassoed the metal beast and wrangled it through each corner until he finally slowed to return to the pit lane. 

“I finally understand the obsession,” you admitted as he parked back where he had left. Your fingers were almost stiff where they had gripped the harness over your chest and you flexed the feeling back into them before unbuckling it. “I can’t even describe it, but I feel alive - if that makes sense? I can’t think quite clearly now.”

“I understand.” Charles smiled softly and wiped away the stray tear that ran down your cheek from having your eyes wide open for so long. “It’s getting late.”

You climbed out of the car and looked up to see stars dotting the desert night sky. It felt like time stopped while you were in the car but nothing could stop time and it all came rushing back. “Can we do this again?” you asked, a little sheepish at how needy you sounded.

“Of course,” Charles promised, taking your hand as naturally as breathing. “After this race it’s winter break and I am all yours.” He stumbled and caught himself. “I mean, if you want to hang out and, uh, stuff. I don’t have any plans, but if you do we can figure something ou-”

You rose onto your toes and kissed his cheek that was turning pink in the moonlight and he fell silent. “I don’t have any plans either.”

Charles stared at your lips, still feeling the warmth on his cheek and he touched the skin as a smile tugged at his lips and he nodded to himself. “Okay. Okay.” 

“You’re cute,” you said as you felt the urge to kiss his lips next.

His nose wrinkled at the compliment. “Cute?”

“Amongst other things,” you added, biting your lip to keep your other thoughts to yourself. 

He grew confident and curled his finger under your chin, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and pulling it free from your teeth. “You’re beautiful.”

Your lungs refused to work as his head dipped down slowly, giving you time to change your mind. You could still feel the remnants of that thrill in your veins and the charge was electric as you gave into your desire and threw your arms around his neck. The kiss started slowly, hesitation holding you both back as you tasted the chemistry, but it grew deeper as his arms curled around your waist, pulling your bodies flush. 

The track faded away as you spared one last critical thought to teleport back to the hotel room. Charles blinked as he looked around the bedroom, but the surprise turned to a smirk. “That is handy.”

“You can do it too,” you said as your fingers traced the hem of his shirt. “You can just have to picture the image in your mind.”

Cold kissed your skin and you looked down to see your own shirt had disappeared. 

“Holy shit, it worked,” he gasped. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

Your shirt returned in an instant but it was now the same shade of red as his team colours. 

“I wasn’t complaining,” you smirked but the humour dimmed as his hands came to rest on your waist that was still wrapped in red cotton. “We can take it slow, Charles.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want you, not your regrets. I want you to be ready.” Ready for an eternity together.

Charles sat at the edge of the bed and pulled you onto his lap. “The first thing you should know about me is I have never been good at going slow,” he admitted as he cupped your cheek and crushed his lips to yours.

#greek gods au #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

[kithtaehyung]

busted (3tan) (m) | myg

title: busted  pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: when things go a bit south at your house party, decisions between you and yoongi have to be made. note: well. here we are, y’all. it’s been quite a long time, but we are back to regularly scheduled programming :’)) thank you to everyone that has supported and encouraged me throughout this whole process – and series, for that matter. i couldn’t have done this without y’all and the next part is already in the works. also i cried a lot writing this lol have fun! note 2: happy birthday, hedgehog! and to colourless and nicki and whoever else had birthdays recently, consider this my gift to y’all! warnings: language, the amount of content itself fck i’m so sorry, parties, alcohol consumption, tense situations, shoving, abandonment mentions (parental), obligatory yoongi on the phone, ch*king, head/hair pulling, reader has a pain kink and it shows oops, angst, overthinking :((, penetrative s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, did i say angst?, bro😵‍💫, but also bro😭, jungkook gets a warning too, yoongi’s jeans are as ripped as he is heyo, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all i–😭, the ending🧍  drop date: june 9th, 2023, 7:17pm est  word count: 18.8k gdi

-

-

Here goes nothing and everything.

It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher. 

A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car. 

Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time. 

Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else. 

In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root. 

Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him. 

But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive. 

And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.

There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.

However. 

What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household. 

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you. 

And they pass by.

“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.

But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”

When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”

“Okay.”

When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money. 

All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.

Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.

But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.

During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.

You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways. 

Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.

And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.

Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.

But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?

Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now. 

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck. 

Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.

And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.

When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer. 

Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers. 

The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”

Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.

Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.” 

“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”

If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.

But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.” 

“You sure?”

“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”

He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”

It’s weird to say it. 

But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”

“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”

“Oh, god.”

“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”

Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview. 

“Who are you seeing?” 

“Kook…” 

“I wanna know.” 

“Why?”

He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back. 

And your heart pangs at how big his back has become. 

Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down. 

“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.” 

“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”

And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret. 

Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon. 

Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees. 

“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.” 

The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets. 

All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him. 

“You did.”

Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.

Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.

Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?

With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all. 

And just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you. 

Because they are still the same.

You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side. 

“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…” 

You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide. 

But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back. 

He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears. 

“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.” 

“I know.”

“Do you really?” 

He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk. 

And you’re going to.

“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.” 

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch. 

You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. The nights you spent wondering what happened, the days you spent feeling unwanted, the times you felt so fucking alone.

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.” 

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?” 

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—” 

When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it. 

“I’ve regretted it every day since.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“I have!”

“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?” 

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.” 

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to. 

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry. 

But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this. 

Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—

There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling? 

…Were you both that loud?

“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!” You look toward the shouts. “We’re okay.” 

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left. 

Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the heat of his questions coming later tonight. 

Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to open the door and tell him off, 

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

Fuck fuck fuck they both see your tears and you’re getting moved aside before you know it now there’s—

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

Alarmed, you squeeze yourself between him and a very wide-eyed Jungkook, having to wrestle an angry wrist off a captured bicep. “Seriously, relax!”

You and your brother have a thousand differences. 

But one thing you two have in common? 

He’s just as stubborn as you are. 

A strong swipe moves you back so fast that your feet can’t keep up, and you find yourself stumbling until firm hands and familiar cologne keep you upright, voices springing up all at once.

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

“What’s wrong with you?” you question, commanding attention and snagging both your brother’s and Jungkook’s stares.

Barely even caring if they see where you are and who’s holding you. 

Because this is all stupid. It’s not fucking high school and you aren’t some kid that needs their useless, shitty, good-for-nothing parents to stand up for them. 

Resisting Yoongi’s grip until he lets go, you stalk up to rip your brother’s hand off your ex’s arm, voice darkened and sharp, “Get out.”

Breath hard, the reply you get is directed more at Jungkook than your own pinched brows, 

“Why should I.”

“Cus it’s fine,” you shoot out, sparing a glance at Yoongi and regretting it immediately. 

Because he’s not looking at you. He probably wasn’t ever looking at you.

No. Based on that look alone, he’s been eyeing Jungkook with an energy that sends chills straight through your veins.

It’s so unmoving, so infernal that your throat dries, forcing you to swallow before laying more reassurance on three pairs of tense shoulders. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”

“…So it’s like that?”

Jungkook immediately replies to your sibling with a monotone, “Of course it is.”

To which he moves forward again before you stop him with a hand and a shout, 

“The fuck it isn’t—” 

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...” 

You force an exhale, hating how your room is overflowing while you’re still drowning in the conversation prior. 

Because now one talk is gonna sprout into three, and you already dread what each one is going to look like when it develops. 

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done. 

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired. 

And, above all the others, you hope to any high power out there that Yoongi understands that you are anything but finished. 

When the tension doesn’t budge, you sigh and shift your weight.

“Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” You breathe with finality, eyeing your sibling and his ride or die—hating and loving how ready they are to do whatever they need to, together.

But they don’t have to do anything. 

Except let you do this yourself. 

“Please.” 

After a moment, they both look over your shoulder before your brother watches your face again. 

But Yoongi seems to have finally caught Jungkook’s attention, because his eyes haven’t broken their lock until you say something,

“Trust me.”

Two weighty seconds pass before both men nod. And they leave without a word, emotions toppling on each other as soon as your door shuts. 

When you walk up to lock it shut, you stare at the knob in silence. 

While that was massively uncalled for, it could’ve gone much worse. You can already think of over a hundred outcomes, because that’s a look you’ve seen on your brother many times. 

However. That’s not what has you lost in thought.

What keeps you frozen is the fact that you have never seen Yoongi like that.

It almost scared you, but somehow comforts you all the same. You can still feel the way he subtly squeezed you in assurance, pressing you into him when you really didn’t fall that far. There’s a jittering in your chest that hasn’t simmered, and it makes you feel like you’re halfway floating back to where Jungkook stands.

But you’re promptly grounded when you rejoin him, voice soft when you ask if he’s okay. 

“He hasn’t changed,” is all he whispers. 

And you look at the door with a sigh of disappointment. “He has a little. Still uptight as ever, but. At least I can leave the house.” 

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

Oxygen abandons your lungs before you quickly catch yourself. “They’re best friends.”

Jungkook glares at the floor in thought before exhaling, and his silence seems charged. Almost off.

“Right.”

…Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

Is it because he saw when Yoongi caught you? Or the fact that he showed up at all? 

“Hey,” you whisper, hoping to rope him away from whatever scary things he could be pondering. When he flicks his attention to you, it takes a lot to not flinch at his watery eyes. “Ignore them. We aren’t finished here.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and your conversation jumps right back to where it was. “For everything.” 

“I know.” You close your eyes before sadness lowers your gaze. “But it’s gonna hurt for awhile.” 

Even if you get this closure, it can’t cover all the years he made you doubt yourself. Made you feel like everything you went through was a lie and that love was something you just didn’t deserve. Confidence vaporized as a result, leaving nothing but issues and manufactured intimacy for years. 

Maybe that’s why everyone said you were a bad lay before. Because you actually were. 

Through your thick haze, you hear a faint, broken, 

“You loved me?”

“I…” Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. “I still do.”

“What?”

Fuck. 

It’s true. While he broke your heart first, he still cared for it more than anyone else after him had—until recently. The only grief he gave you was the breakup, which was why it threw you for an absolute loop. 

As you grew up, though, you started to rationalize that the split was a good decision. He was moving, and you were leaving for college. How would you both have fared with the long distance? It probably would have ended one way or the other anyways. 

So while the resentment burned your heart, it didn’t quite rid you of affection. What you feel as a result is similar to before, but so very, very different. Subdued. Faded. Like jeans you wore constantly but haven’t touched in years. 

In all honesty, what broke you the hardest was losing a dear friend. 

“I do,” you finally admit, not looking at him because of your next words, “But not the way you want me to.” 

Jungkook doesn’t respond, letting the outside world bleed into the room like a bitter interlude.

When he still makes no sound, you lift weary eyes to check on him.

And your chest constricts at the way he looks utterly and totally lost. 

When you call his name, his gaze doesn’t leave the floor. When you whisper it again, the tear that falls makes you weak. “Kook, what’s wrong?”

He finally looks up, and you feel your eyes quickly reflect his. “I was so stupid,” he sniffles, wiping his nose. “I really didn’t know. Honestly, I knew that was impossible.” 

For some reason, this makes you chuckle, and a new mood starts to paint the walls. “Why?”

“Because you were so cool.” His smile hasn’t changed. And that’s what cuts the deepest. “And I was just there because I always was.” 

“What?” You start to join him in bittersweet recollection, albeit from a different perspective. When you reach forward to point at his necklace—because you will not touch the ring—you softly laugh. “Then what were these for, silly?” 

When he sighs, you can feel the cracks in his curve. “I’ve been told that I’m clueless.” 

“You are,” you say with a sagging grin. “Extremely.” 

He laughs again. So do you. 

And the both of you break all at once. 

He’s crushing you in a hug and you’re crying into his clothes, hands gripping at his jacket and shoulder feeling the weight of his world. 

While he repeats that he’s sorry, you choke out that you are, too. When he says it was never your fault, you cry even harder. 

You fucking hate this. Now that you know the truth, it hurts that much worse. You hate, hate, hate that this is what everything came to. Everything that you both went through, destroyed by one mistake at the bitter end. 

But you need to move on. You need to sacrifice the past for the future. 

“I still love you,” he whispers, and you tense when he tightens his arms. “And I’m still sorry.”

“You idiot,” you cry into his chest, and you hear him hold back a sob before burying his head again.

And the two of you stay like that. One last embrace that you both needed.

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

When you both calm, you feel like it’s been hours. 

But you move to step away first, confused at the way he doesn’t let you leave. 

What’s he doing? Why is his mouth hovering over yours? You need to move. You need to move away. 

But all you can do is plead, “I can’t.”

Still, Jungkook moves in. 

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

What once would have lit your soul on fire now feels like a tempered flame, the smallest light of a candle before it burns out. And you’re grateful that he respects you enough to not push in a time of weakness. 

You move away again, and he lets you go this time. But not without last words, “Promise me this person is alright.”

“I promise.” 

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

“Kook.” When you give him an empty glare, dying stars still linger in his eyes. “Friends?”

His lips give away his breaking heart before he nods. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Swallowing, you spread a thankful smile. “You better not,” you sniffle. “I need to decorate.” 

He huffs, giving you one more teary stare. “If they ever hurt you, let me know.” 

“I’ll be okay.” 

After a noncommittal nod, he stands until you politely tell him you need a minute. When he leaves, you wait until the door shuts before wiping nothing from your cheek.

Wondering why this closure doesn’t make you feel better in the slightest.

You don’t know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t exactly flow when you’re caught between the past and the present. 

But when you open your door, Dom is watching you with pure, unadulterated focus.

And your face scrunches in pain before she ushers you back inside.

She doesn’t say anything as you sit on your bed, offering her shoulder even though she doesn’t prefer physical contact.

While you’re grateful—so, so thankful for her presence—intermittent sniffles are the only sound you’re capable of. 

Until you stabilize and come up for air, fishing words from your river of grief, “Remember what I told you. When he broke up with me.”

Anger simmers in her reply as her shoulder moves under your chin. You assume by the movements that she’s typing something on her phone—or prepping for revenge, either one of the two. “I do.”

“He said he still loves me.”

Your first thought is proven correct as a device plops onto your comforter. “Bullshit.”

“Dom…”

“What? Like he loved you then, too?” She scoffs. “You were the one that loved him and he cut you out. He needs to get over that.”

“He said it was a mistake.” 

“It sure as fuck was.” 

“I dunno. Something just doesn’t sit right.” You swipe at your nose. “He looked so.. I just…” 

“Uh uh. It’s too fresh.” She gently lifts your heavy cloud off her person, firm fingers squeezing out rain. “You gotta get out of your own damn head right now.” 

“I know.”

“Now.”

You break into another sob, hiccuping before nodding. “It just sucks, Dom. I d—”

“Look, I get that. But everything you’re thinking about already happened. It’s done.” A glance is thrown behind her back before she swivels around. “Focus on what you have now.” 

In your moments of weakness, you ask the dumbest things, 

“What do I have now.”

As always, Dominique is quick and to the point. “A man that’s waiting outside your door.”

Huh?

Your eyes flash up to hers as she stands. “Wait, what?”

What did she say? What does she mean? How does she know that what’s going on— 

“One minute,” she warns, far away and not to you. “Then you’re on your own.”

“K.”

Wait, what.

You don’t even realize you’re vacating your bed as you see him walk in, nodding back at Dom closing the door before regarding your wreck of a face. 

His name is molasses on your tongue.

What is he doing? Isn’t the party still on? Why is he walking closer? 

He’s not supposed to be in here he can’t be here and you’re telling him that but he pulls you in so tight that the rest of your tears rain down in sheets. 

“Fuck,” is all you can manage now, and he crushes you in even harder, as if he wants you pressed against all of him forever like a keepsake leaf on a journal page.

Your voice writes words into his clothes, silence his only reply but the only one you need. 

Even if you only get a minute, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.

When he holds you at arm’s length, his question comes out a bit fast-paced, “What happened?” 

Damn it. As much as you should probably tell him, you use precious seconds to pause, not really knowing if you want to or not. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he quickly understands, kissing your forehead just as chaste. When he moves again, you catch the tension in his shoulders, notice the ruffles in his hair. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes. No.” Fuck, he kinda looks as rattled as you feel. What is happening right now? “I just, umm. I need a minute.”

“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”

“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.” 

Finally, Yoongi stops, and his whole upper body relaxes at once. A beautiful sound to your ears, amusement huffs out his nose before he mutters, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.” 

“But it’s true.” 

His chuckle is light, and mischievous eyes find the ground before they lift to yours,

“Makes me wanna take you home.” 

Well. You swiftly realize why he doesn’t want you to keep saying certain things. The zing of emotion through your body was definitely uncalled for. 

Any other day, you would want this type of conversation to keep going. And maybe you’d be a little coy about it. 

But right now, all you are is tired, and your barriers are crumbled enough for a truth to escape. 

Resigned, you step closer to wrap his waist in your arms, not caring if he can feel the rapid beats of your heart. “I want you to do that,” you admit, breath warming your face on his already warmer shirt. “All the time.” 

“Take you home?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Yoongi runs fingers along your arm. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.” 

If you were someone else. If you didn’t have to hide. 

If you didn’t have to wait. 

At least you don’t have to wait for much longer. Definitely can’t say anything to your brother tonight, but you and Yoongi agreed on after this party. So things will be better from here on out. 

But why does he seem so—

You’re spooked by a warning knock on your door, and you flicker eyes to see his filled with something you don’t like. 

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

Oh. You shake your head, already on the same page and liking how in sync you are. “There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”

“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”

Huh.

What does he mean by—

“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”

You freeze. 

So does time. 

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, banging and banging and screaming that what he’s asking is not possible.

Because he isn’t asking what you want to do. He isn’t even asking how long you can wait. 

There’s a reason why he’s risking all sorts of shit to say this in person. Why he seems so restless. 

And you’re already missing him so hard it hurts.

Truthfully? You can’t do this. Not now. Not when your heart is bleeding out on your own bedroom floor. There isn’t even enough time to process Jungkook’s talk and now you need to deal with this?

“Babe?”

But despite what you feel, even if your throat is seizing and your chest is caving in, your answer will be what he needs. 

Because seeing Yoongi look like this—torn and frayed at the edges—renders you powerless and protective all at once. For fuck’s sake, he looks slightly panicked and this is the second new side of him you’ve seen tonight.

And yet he found a way to be with you one last time. 

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye. 

So you give up something, too. Your wants and needs because you don’t think you can do this, but it seems way too important to him to not try. 

You get it. That whole confrontation probably snapped all sense back into him. He doesn’t want to hurt his best friend. Or disrupt his work environment. Or both. Whatever whatever whatever. You should’ve seen this coming.

If distance is what he wants, you’ll give it. Instant karma because you just told someone else to give you some, too.

Of course you lose someone as soon as you gain back another.

“Doll, let me know because—”

“Anything,” you rush out, and yearning taints your voice on the descent. “I’ll do it.”

He pans from one eye to the other, and you weakly reveal a crack in your resolve,

“Anything for you.”

That answer was a lot more than what you meant to say. And the next look he gives rips you into shreds. Shreds of the bigger truth you just told him with moments left of his time.

“For us,” he corrects, swooping in to give you one more soul-shattering kiss.

And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel. 

You don’t know when you’ll get to be alone with him again. It could be a day. Or months. Or even longer.

But watching him go, you know you can get through this. You know you can do it. 

Because this is nothing new. Just another person leaving. You’ve gone through it before and you’ll go through it again and this time will be different, right? Right? He’ll come back. Of course he will. 

And yet there’s still a part of you that questions.

If people are like seasons… 

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

Your body is moving before the rest of you does, and you propel forward to tug him in, flooding his lips with saltwater and longing and a deluge of reluctant trust. 

And he responds in an instant, swallowing you in an embrace you’ll cherish forever and willingly giving in to your desperate tugs on his jacket.

“Yoongi, I—”

You hear another insistent knock before he slings you into the nearest wall, and he grips the back of your head so hard you sob into his mouth. 

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

But you only nod, eyes filled with oceans but gaze unwavering. Because you need to see him. Because you need to see him. 

“Fuck.” 

He smashes his lips on yours once more, capturing every soft plea for him to stay and holding you so tightly that your heart splinters. And while you know this is his way of telling you everything will be okay, you have a sinking suspicion that he is fighting to believe it himself.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair. 

If he was anyone else, if you were anyone else, if your brother wasn’t the way he was, if Jungkook wasn’t in the position he’s in now. 

It was just nights ago that you cradled all his moonlight in your palms.

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars. 

Yoongi finally pulls away right as Dom opens the door, and a myriad of emotions slosh into your brain when his eyes never leave you. 

“I got us,” he vows, finger on your chin the sole thing keeping you afloat, and you suspend in disbelief that someone you know is witnessing his lips press your forehead in real time and no explosions or helicopters are crashing onto the scene.

Just a panicked “Hurry up, for god’s sake!” to indicate your friend is not amused or phased.

Yoongi finally steps away, slowly backing up before slipping out, and the door closes with only you inside—hand clawing deep into your chest. 

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory. 

And the desperation in his reddened eyes hunches you forward in pain.

The rest of the party goes on. Music booms, people laugh, conversations sparkle.

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

You scoff at your phone, letting it fall from your hand before resting tired eyes between your knees. 

When it buzzes again, you reluctantly read it with vision unreflecting.

Idiot🙄 [1:42am]: Left food for you, too

That you will leave your room for. You may have just cried out your weight in tears alone.

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

Cleaning is a quiet event, with you both doing the chores you’ve defaulted to over the years. While he clears the floors and deals with the trash, you steadily get through the dishes, scrubbing them as well as you can before placing them in the washer to dry.

A plate. A bowl after that. 

Two whisky glasses even though there were plenty of solo cups to use.

You needed this. Needed a way of going through the motions and letting your brain fly on autopilot. If you sniffle, the water drowns it out, and only the dishes get to see any lingering tears.

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long. 

Frustration tears its way up your throat on all fours, “I should kick yours for what you did back there.”

“And I’d deserve it.” 

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.” 

Sighing, you shake your head, knowing that neither of you are angry enough to fight anyways. “No, okay? I was serious. We talked.” 

“I know you talked but he still hurt you.”

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

When he stops, you place another dish on its rack. “Let’s just finish and I’ll tell you everything in a sec.” 

He sets down the last of his trash before retiring in the living room, the thump of weary weight squeezing a sigh out of the couch.

And you eventually join him, water cutting off with a squeak before you shuck off your gloves. 

As you walk through the cleaned-enough rooms, you keep hearing afterimages of conversations, wondering how many revolved around your shouting match with Jungkook, or how many speculated who Yoongi is or isn’t seeing. 

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides. 

But the conversation you’re about to have with your brother is gonna be real. And a long time coming, quite frankly. 

You take a breath before crossing into a space that’s seen and heard many things. While you take residence in your regular spot on the sofa, your brother doesn’t deter his gaze from a television that’s not on.

But as soon as you blurt out your confession, he slowly closes his eyes. 

“He broke up with me. Before I left for school.” 

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

Brows scrunched, you waste no time in pinning him with your response, “Did you see yourself back there? Imagine if you found out back then.”

Silence. 

“Besides,” you continue, deflating back into the cushions, “He was moving, remember? And you had enough going on. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I always worry.” 

“It’s whatever at this point. I didn’t even know he was back until Yoo—you told me.”

Shit, that was close. 

“I shouldn’t have made it a surprise.” 

“Not your fault. What’s done is done.” When you observe the blank screen, you can see your brother aim a look your way. “Just made the whole uni thing miserable at first.” 

And the years after, too, but he doesn’t need the same details that Yoongi got. 

He sighs, hand scratching the side of his head before free-falling. When it’s quiet, you think he’s preparing for war. Prepping a vow to go after Jungkook and dealing with a problem that’s not yours anymore. 

But he doesn’t do that. What he says catches you completely off guard.

An apology.

“I’m sorry I’m always gone. Or not really here when I’m back.” 

Where did that come from? Are you already done with a talk you dreaded for years? 

This can’t be it. 

Blinking, your mouth slowly opens before you respond as level as possible. “It’s okay. I can pretty much fend for myself at this point.” 

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.” 

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

“Cus I feel… Uhh.” He moves his lips around in thought, as if the next sentence takes strategy to arrange. “I feel like we don’t really talk anymore.” 

“…Oh.”

You’re thoroughly thrown. Because who the hell is this person you’re talking to right now? What’s up with him? He doesn’t need to try anything better except calm the fuck down sometimes. And let you be an adult.

And frankly, you feel like you talk a normal amount anyway. At least, you didn’t think anything was off about it. 

What the hell happened after he left your room?

Suddenly, you see him laugh at the ground before asking it a question. “Remember when we’d go get our own food?” 

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone. 

But you’ll take it. This switch in what you expected this conversation to be is a welcome one, and you softly entertain memories that aren’t supposed to be this funny. “Yeah. We’d get told to come back with our parents.” 

“Until they realized we kept going alone.” 

A memory makes you smirk. “You even tried dressing like a grown up.” 

He chuckles again, elbows resting on his knees as he watches your coffee table. “I really thought I did it, too.” 

“You did.” Thinking about all the shit you both went through, it’s truly a wonder how you’re both still here. Living and existing and doing big things. 

A rueful chuckle leaves your lips, floating to the floor. “We’re fucked up, huh.” 

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.” 

True. “It could be worse, I think.” 

“How?” 

You play with some of the frays on your sofa, wondering when this piece of furniture started to resemble thin lines of too-soft polyester at its edges. 

Did it start to give up around the same time your parents did? Or had their patience worn thin way before the threads on this cushion began to fade? 

Whichever truth remains, at least it’s still here—witnessing all the struggles and triumphs, the highs and lows, and all the times the two of you had sat in puffy-eyed silence. 

Together. 

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.” 

“Ah,” he nods, slowly shaking his head and twisting the watch on his wrist. “Nah.” 

Silent, your eyes find his side profile in due time. “No?”

And his glare burns the path ahead. Just like it always has. “I wouldn’t have let them.” 

“Oh, really.”

“I got them to leave us all this, didn’t I?”

Wait, he did what now?

…You didn’t know that. 

“Hold on,” you breathe slow. “That’s what happened?”

“We had a deal.” He sighs before leaning all the way back, hands joined at the knuckles on his stomach. “If I graduated with full marks and, uhh. Got a starting salary high enough, they’d pay for your tuition.”

The pause he makes weighs a ton. 

“And leave this to us when you came back.” 

So… He… 

Holy shit. 

You were just fucking relieved you didn’t have to pay any loans. For once, you thought your parents really had your best interests in mind and did something out of kindness before peacing the fuck out. 

But it’s all because your brother negotiated and pulled off the near impossible? 

…Is he paying loans? 

“I didn’t know any of that,” you whisper, finding yourself on the verge of tears again.

He simply shrugs, looking down at his cherished piece that he rarely takes off. “You didn’t need to. You were just a kid.”

“So were you.”

Your brother purses his lips, and you wonder what words he could be holding back. What thoughts he has that he won’t say out loud. If any of them are things he wants to say but can’t. 

“It’s whatever.”

He had to grow up fast so that you didn’t have to. 

And you don’t have the heart to tell him that university fast tracked that anyways. 

So, while grateful as hell and knowing you’ll be thinking about this conversation for years, you switch the subject. You’re already overwhelmed as is. 

And you suddenly understand what Yoongi might be struggling with, too. 

Because if he did all this for you, what lengths has he gone for his best friend? 

Shoving that thought into a far corner of your brain, you rest your head to mirror your sibling, letting your tears slide back to where they came from. “I, umm. Was wondering why they left us the house. But I figured they just didn’t wanna pay for it.” 

“It was already paid off,” he explains, seemingly just as happy to talk about something else. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but it’s how I was able to negotiate in the first place. They had four other properties, and a condo on some island.” 

“What.”

“That’s why they were rarely here. Work trips, my ass.” He scoffs before bouncing a leg. “And they had us in this place.” 

“I like it here, though.”

“I do, too, but…” You hear a shuffle of his feet before he stops. “I just. I dunno, it’s just us here. It feels...” 

“Empty?” 

“Maybe. More like something’s missing? I dunno, that’s probably lame.” 

You inhale before assuring him. “It’s not.” 

And with that, you’re both left to stare at the same ceiling, conversation stewing and simmering around the whole room.

Usually, this is when you leave. Because you don’t wanna talk about shit like this, or you simply feel like doing anything else. 

But tonight, you want to stay. You didn’t know these things about your brother and what he did, and it’s making you realize a lot of things. 

And regret others. 

A question rolls off your tongue before you can overthink it, “Do you ever wonder what we did wrong?” 

“All the time.” 

“When I think about it, I always end up thinking the same thing.” 

“Hmm.” 

You tilt your head his way. “We weren’t the adults. But neither were they.” 

And you both huff in tandem after he grins. “Damn.” 

You don’t know how the two of you got here. But it was much better than talking about anything else, and you silently thank him for not making you more miserable than you already were. 

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

He just needs to know for sure that you really are past the whole situation. Mostly. A healthy amount, at least. 

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” You look over to see regret fill his side of the couch.

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

“Oh.” You swallow, surprisingly emotional that he’s even owning up to it. You know it only happened because he was being protective, but hearing this from him is huge. That had to be hard. “Thank you.”

“I just.. I love you, okay?” He turns to look at the ceiling again, and you quickly have to do the same because you know how that was even tougher to say. “You and my brothers.. You’re all I’ve got.” 

Liquid emotion runs down your cheek, never having been told that more than once in a single day.

It’s a shame how foreign it sounds when you say it back. 

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

An hour later, you find yourself in bed, clutching your phone while a single question loops through your brain.  

…Calling should be okay, right?

Even if you can’t see him, or really be in the same room, this should be okay. At least, in the dead of night when even birds are asleep. When no one is awake to judge you both for lying to the people you... 

Your chest squeezes when you press down on your decision, the talk with your brother repeating in your ears.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

…And you feel your chest cave when you hear it go to voicemail.

Fuck. 

Maybe he’s sleeping already. Unforeseen circumstances like emotional turmoil tend to slow down your getting ready for bed process, so it took a lot longer than usual. Maybe he isn’t actively avoiding your calls and is just face down in a pillow you miss using.

And maybe you need to get used to this god-awful feeling as quickly as you can. 

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Your chest booms when you see his name, and you try your absolute hardest to answer normally even though instant tears blur the screen.

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

His breath sounds so rushed, and you immediately wonder what he looks like if he didn’t take that long to answer. Imagining him in only a towel or less, you let out a pained chuckle before whispering, “You okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

Of course that’s his answer. “I’m not. Just wondering if you were.”

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

Body alert, you only focus on that last syllable. “Wait, are you hurt?”

You hear a low grunt before he responds. 

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.” 

Ouch. How the hell did he do that? “I’m sorry. You got ice, though, right?” 

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.” 

“Okay.”  

There’s some crunching sounds before you hear footsteps and hisses, and a thump before other noise crackles through. 

“Spoke to Kook.” 

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

“We’re gonna be busy as shit for the next month or two, so.. Guess that came at a good time.” 

Ah. No finish line in sight.

But he didn’t hide that information from you, so you appreciate the honesty. Better than him leaving you in complete darkness.

“Yeah, do your thing,” you support. “I need to prep for this interview anyway. And figure shit out if I end up getting the job.” 

“When you get it.”

You exhale, shy. “When I get it, yeah.”

“Where is it again? That blue building, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. But where I’ll be is like, third floor.”

“See? Claiming shit already.”

You realize right as he says it, but you meant something completely different. Your laugh is soft. “I meant for the interview.” 

“Mm. Well lemme know where you post up after they hire you.”

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

“Did you, umm. Did you and Kook talk about anything else?”

“Just work stuff.”

“Okay.” Your eyes lower. If he’s telling you everything, you gotta reciprocate. 

Even the stuff you don’t wanna mention. “He tried to kiss me.”

“What.”

Swallowing at his tone, you whisper, “I told him I couldn’t.” 

“…I see.”

Fuck. He does not sound okay with that in the slightest. Disappointed with yourself, you apologize, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

There’s another moment of silence, and you don’t think you breathe until he responds,

“Not at you, doll.”

Well, shit. You don’t wanna cause any friction between them, especially after the energy Jungkook gave off earlier. It’s still bugging you to hell. “Nothing happened, baby. But he felt really off after y’all left, so.. I dunno. Be careful.”

“I will. But that means I can’t talk when he’s around.”

You bury your head, watching the hours that you get with Yoongi dwindle away. Knowing Jungkook, he’s gonna immerse himself in whatever keeps him distracted. So he will most likely be at the studio just as much. “At least you were there today,” you whisper. 

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.” 

There’s a breath on the line, and you can tell he’s hesitant just by the way he moves his phone. So when he finally speaks, your jaw goes slack.

“I was there first, doll.” 

He what?

“Wait… You were?” 

He was at your door first? He has to know how that looked, right? Your brother clearly saw him if he was the one to shout, and yet there was no mention of it when the two of you spoke. 

Maybe that’s part of why Yoongi decided what he did. A decision to help you came with consequences he knew were coming. But he did it anyway. 

Your breath is suddenly short. And your head is starting to spin with information overload.

“The plan was to only check for a sec, but he had the same idea. Showed up right behind me.” 

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.” 

They were there the whole time. Both of them. Yoongi first? Your brother joining him? 

Nope. This is too much. All of this is way too much for one night and your head is bursting at the seams. 

Just another reason why this separation could be a good thing. Other than the fact that Jungkook seems weird and you can’t see Yoongi at all and him and your brother really are more than friends and you wedged yourself right in between everybody—

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling. 

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.” 

“You okay?”

Say yes. Say anything but “No. I’m… I don’t know, I really don’t know—This is a lot and—”

“Wait—” 

“I get it and I’ll stay away for as long as you want—”

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

He doesn’t need to hear your grief over the past, your regrets of the present, your fear of the future. He doesn’t need to know how pained you really feel dealing with everything at once. How harsh his departure is because this is when you need him most. 

Yoongi: Missed Call

All he needs to know is that you’ll do this for him. Because he would do the same for you. 

And he’s done enough for everyone other than himself. 

But goddamn if this doesn’t hurt like nothing else you’ve experienced before. 

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

Why is he calling? Won’t this just make it harder?

Why does he keep trying if you need to stay away?

Yoongi: Incoming Call

With a heart so busted you don’t know where all the pieces are, you finally reach up to acknowledge his effort. 

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

“Knew you’d answer on the first try.” 

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.  

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

“So now, you get to hear the longest good night ever.”

Huh? 

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean… 

As soon as you hear the light strums of a guitar, your heart shows signs of life. And you let everything out while he gathers the scattered shards with every chord. Every note. 

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

A river flows into your pillow until it runs dry, and the Moon outside your blinds casts a silver blanket over your defeated shoulders.

And it’s only when you and your phone are dead to the world that the Sun steps in to peel it off with calm palms.

For the first time in a long time, you plan a sleepover at Taehyung’s. 

And after getting a rundown of what happened, he completely agrees that you both need it.

It’s been a minute since you slept over there, and rolling onto his driveway makes you remember the first time it happened. 

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked. 

But after some arguments from you and very clear energy from Tae, your brother waved you off and just demanded no funny shit better happen. 

And you’ve spent so many nights over there since then that Taehyung’s one of the people he calls if he’s looking for you. 

Being reminded of something else interesting, you think back to the first time you went to Yoongi’s, spending enough time there that he ended up on the list of people to call about your whereabouts. 

As hot as he was picking up with a cheeky arm around you, it was surprising he was on that list in the first place. 

Well, maybe not. They’re best friends. But why would he—

“You just gonna waste gas in my driveway or what?” 

Snapping your head up, you see Taehyung looking bored, hands on his hips and wearing the most comfortable clothes you’ve ever seen. 

Your glare in return is empty when you finally get out, circling around to grab your stuff and take-out from the passenger seat. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” you joke as he goes to grab the food. Locking your car, you follow his grumbles into the house with a laugh, feeling a little okay already.

“How’s Jimin?”

“Still complicated, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

You sigh before you poke your noodles, knowing you have quite the catch-up to get through. If only your attempt at procrastination worked.

“Eat,” Taehyung orders before taking a hearty slurp of his meal. “I don’t care if you’re sad, this wasn’t cheap.” 

“Excuse you.” He’s lucky you resist the urge to fling saucy food all over his shorts. “Also, I paid for it, the hell?” 

When your friend blows air through his nose, you scoff before silently doing as he says, pouting at the beginning credits onscreen.

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start. 

As you peer down at your food, emotion and appetite abandon your palate,

“A month.”

“...Damn.” 

Taehyung already knows all about what happened. But even if he didn’t, you think he would’ve caught on to your increasingly depressing song choices. And the way you barely watched Yoongi during the last intramural game. 

“How’s the new job, though? Good distraction?” 

That you can talk about for hours. “Thank fuck it is.” 

“That’s good, at least.”

As your meal progresses, you continue to catch him up on everything, including the way night calls are the only thing keeping your hopes afloat. 

Because Yoongi was right. Ever since the party, weekdays have been radio silent, and you soon got accustomed to looking forward to his late texts saying he’s home.

And you’ve been okay with that. Landing the job and getting swamped with training has kept you busy, and your friends have been a wonderful salve for persisting wounds.

It just stings when you know the studio is close by. Because even though Yoongi extended invitations before, you avoid that area like the plague.

“But enough about me,” you huff. “Still complicated with him, huh.” 

If Taehyung knows you’re too sad to keep talking, he doesn’t show it. His response simply comes after a few chews. “Yeah. But”—he swallows—“Not in a way I’m mad about.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Taehyung settles back into the sofa right as a ball of fluff hops on, and you watch the movie roll by while he gently orders him to get down. “He’s not as flaky. We just haven’t really labeled anything yet.” 

That’s surprising to hear. Tae doesn’t strike you as the labeling type at all, so your question is genuine, “Do you need one?” 

A huff is what you get in return, and you can hear the smile in his tone. “He seems to want one more than me. Which is why I don’t get the hesitation.” 

“Mm.” 

That makes more sense. Knowing what you know about Jimin, you aren’t shocked he would be conflicted about something he really wants. 

Why he’s skirting around the point is the question. It’s clear to you that they would be so cute together. And sickly annoying in public. 

“Maybe that’s a good sign,” you blurt, roping your friend’s gaze and attention. Spotlight on you instead of the characters bustling about his television, you smile. “It’s like he’s scared because he cares about your feelings.” 

Not unlike what’s happening between another pair of friends you know.

Taehyung blinks, and you’ve always liked the way curiosity widens his eyes. 

But he’s so quiet that you shift. “What?” 

He keeps staring before biting an incoming smile. Before you can question him again, something brightens his expression. “You’ve changed, you know that?” 

Huh. “Me? How?” 

Your friend just grins before resting his head on the top of his cushion. “I’ve always known you were amazing. But now you look like you know that, too.” 

All thoughts fizzle out before your jaw dips. When you try to present arguments, none materialize, and Taehyung laughs at the way you physically buffer. 

“Not even denying it. I like this.” 

“Shut up,” you finally pout, embarrassed and shy when he laughs again. 

The rest of the film continues with nothing else but your commentary, and Taehyung clicks out of the queue screen before another one can start. 

“Break? Or what do you feel like?” 

You feel Yeontan’s fluff at your feet. “We can keep going.” 

“Mmk.” 

Both of you contemplate which one to pick when you feel your phone vibrate a ton. And when you see the notification, your heart leaps before crashing back down to the ground.

Yoongi [5:02pm]: Just got booked for another week

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

You slowly let your hand drop with a sigh, and you can feel Taehyung’s pitied stare without moving.

“I know,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t be upset.” 

“You can definitely be upset.” 

You lift weary eyes to see that your assumption was very wrong. There’s no pity evident at all. 

Only warmth. And understanding. 

“Cus knowing him? He’s probably more frustrated than you are.” 

There’s a pinch in your chest, a sharp one that cuts your breath for a small second in time. 

Him? Being more upset than you?

You only thought about that possibility once, but you quickly dismissed it. There’s no way. 

But hearing Tae say it from a guy’s perspective—and someone that knows how Yoongi can be—gives you pause. 

It just didn’t make sense before because he sounds fine when you call, and he doesn’t really talk much about his own shit unless you ask. Which is strange considering he was fine doing so after your huge breakthrough at his place. Granted, it was mostly about good things.

Does he only hold back when it’s about stuff that stresses him out? That’s not ideal. You’ve told him before to tell you what’s bothering him, so if he’s still hesitant to let you in…

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present, 

“What are you gonna say?” 

Blinking, you push your lips together in thought before looking at your phone again. 

If Yoongi really is more upset than you are, then you should tell him something that you would wanna hear from him. Even if you aren’t feeling so hot. 

You [5:07pm]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴 

You [5:07pm]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time 

When you send those, something strange happens to your shoulders. 

They’re lighter. 

How is that possible? You’re still sad. 

But your mind seems to clear some junk out, instead feeling a little okay about the whole thing. 

Hopefully Yoongi receives them well. If he doesn’t, you’ll figure something else out. 

Yoongi [5:09pm]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.

You laugh with teary eyes, soul feeling like it’ll live despite plans being pushed back again. 

The lingering sadness remains, but it’s dwindled for now. An afterthought to the slight happiness you feel from lifting him up instead of dragging him down.

Another message slides into the thread before you click your phone shut, so when Tae gets more food, you catch what it says. 

Yoongi [5:11pm]: Fuck I miss you

And your heart beats extra loud, mouth slightly curved and wobbly because you agree but it’s okay, okay, okay. You can both do this. 

You [5:12pm]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later

Of course you want to cry. Of course you want to curl up into a ball and sob. 

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

But just like there’s strength in being strong, there’s just as much strength in being gentle. 

Because as upset as you feel, it’s better if you don’t show it. While you aren’t completely resolute, you push forward in silence. Even if you can’t see the finish line.

The lingering feeling of anxiousness remains; the what-if’s batter your mind from the inside. But you choose to stay optimistic for him, and even you have to admit that’s admirable.

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

Your shoulders must be slumping to hell because you feel a warm presence settle against you, slinging an arm around and holding you close. 

The only sound you make is a quick sniffle, but you don’t move as Taehyung reads the thread on your phone. 

“You see what I see, right,” is all he whispers. 

And when you slightly shrug, he leans his head against yours. 

“You will.” 

Nodding, you feel more tears follow the paths of their predecessors, and you don’t move to wipe them away. “You’re a good person, Tae.” 

His chuckle sounds like a hearth, and you welcome Yeontan’s sniffs on your legs.

“Jimin’s lucky you’re even giving him a chance.” 

“Ah.” After squeezing your bicep, your friend reaches down to pick up his baby. “He’s lucky I gave him more than one.” 

“Oh? The luckiest then.” 

“You can do this,” he murmurs. “He’ll be ready before you know it.” 

With heavy eyes, you glance down at your still unfinished food. 

“Maybe you’re right.” 

One week turns into three. 

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought. 

“Fuck,” you groan, clutching under your stomach. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”

“It’s okay.”

“At least you don’t have to see me this gross.”

“So?”

“You better stop.” Another eruption of pain shoots through your lower body, and you exhale into your pillow. “This is only making it worse.”

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about— 

Oh. Right. 

…You probably shouldn’t tread waters you don’t know the depths of. 

“Yeah. But it’s too far and I’m lazy.”

He laughs in pity but doesn’t show any in his words,

“Go get it, doll.”

Because being reminded of his last relationship also makes you wonder why it ended. And wonder if that also has anything to do with his decision. 

Now hurt in multiple ways, you childishly retort, “You get it.”

“I would if I was there. But I’m not, so you’re gonna.”

“Fine.” You huff into your pillowcase, knowing you’re gonna get up because his perfect mix of support and command is annoyingly attractive. “How much longer?”

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes. 

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” 

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons. 

“Okay.”

To your confusion, you get a food delivery at your office the next day. 

Inspecting the contents of the bag, you’re cautious until you notice a takeout box of mandu under some sweets and a few all too familiar fruits.

And at the note inside, you promptly proceed to the least used bathroom to compose yourself.

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope. 

But they can also be the most dangerous words to play with.

Because soon is hilariously arbitrary, and you almost believed it meant something good. 

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

“You wanna go? He’s having a few people over.”

You bite down so hard your jaw hurts. “Nah, I already have plans tonight.”

“K. Have fun!”

When the door closes, you keep your eyes on the television.

Arms falling at your side because you know you aren’t going anywhere. 

On a random Tuesday, you finally get a package you’ve been waiting on for what seems like months, and you rush to your room to check if it’s exactly what you wanted.

When it looks so beautiful, and feels smooth to the touch, you clutch the material in sorrow.

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

It can’t be helped. He’s working far too late into the night for you to stay awake, and is passed out by the time you need to wake up. 

Spending time with friends helps distract from the drift, especially when one of them keeps snapping you into the present, but they’re getting busy, too. 

However. Despite all the obstacles, you keep waiting. A season has passed, yet you stay grounded. 

Hoping, wishing, choosing to believe that Yoongi’s not gonna do the same.

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob. 

One chilly night, you take more of Taehyung’s advice, going to Jimin’s determined to have a good time. 

But despite the manufactured confidence you had while getting dressed up and the way you were totally fine walking in and conversing with people and the admittedly perfect vibes of the party…

There’s a hole in your chest that won’t decrease in size. 

No matter what you feed it—food, drinks, the compliments of others—it refuses to budge, and this emptiness holds weight. Heavy. Melancholic.

Painful.

As you suddenly find yourself on Jimin’s windy balcony, one with a slightly different view than the one you’ll remain on forever, dull eyes lower to your solo. 

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back? 

A sharp ache spreads as the hole expands, new tears too powerful to ignore. You know your vision swims, but you don’t move to stay afloat at all. 

Three months. 

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds. 

It only took sixty for you to miss him. And it only took sixty-one for you to feel something else. 

How many more will you end up counting? How long until you get to count down instead of up? 

You keep asking yourself that. When you know for damn sure that you don’t want to know the answer. 

A breeze wraps around your limbs as you sip, the chill cutting through your dress and making you teeter in your heels. 

Because it seems like Yoongi doesn’t know, either. 

To the point where it’s starting to scare you. 

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly. 

But something in you keeps wondering why the wait keeps extending, anxious that he could be flat out stalling. 

Prematurely saddened by the possibility that he’s reconsidering entirely.

It makes sense. At least, more sense than him actually wanting something with you. Maybe this time apart has given him the clarity to realize how rose-tinted this whole situation has been. How unrealistic and laughable.

But that night in his kitchen… 

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

On the verge of defeat, you hold out your phone, clicking around until your finger hovers over a certain Call button.

You can’t.

He’s working. Someone could see your name, if he has it saved as normal as you have his.

Your finger moves a bit closer.

What the fuck are you doing? Stop. Don’t screw up everything you’ve had to endure with one impulsive decision.

But your mind is fucking bad tonight and you have no clue why.

When the screen lights up with the call screen anyway, ice water rushes through because you totally didn’t mean to call and you need to end it now. 

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight. 

How the fuck did he know? How the fuck does he always know? 

Tears burning, you try your hardest to calm the hell down before you answer, wondering why he dubs you his good luck charm when he puts guardian angels to shame.

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

Fuck. Get it together. Gentle, silent, strong. 

“Hello?”

But you can’t. Not this time. Just hearing his voice for the first time in weeks has you crumbling, and that damn hole in your chest is unquenchable. 

As soon as your greeting is nothing but a weak sniffle, his change in tone seizes your soul and squeezes.

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.” 

Damn it there’s keys jangling and you can’t help but sob even harder knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. He doesn’t have to go home just because you’re what, sad? Pathetic.

You feel way too many things for this man and it fucking sucks that eight million seconds have gone by after you finally acknowledged them.

However many you get with him now, whenever that may be, you’re not taking a single one for granted. 

“Babe, tell me. Now.” 

“Jimin’s. Outside,” you choke out, sniffling and wiping both cheeks. “But nothing happened, Yoongi, I just—It just—” 

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?” 

Lowering your head and expectations, you huff in sad amusement. 

Of course you can. Twenty minutes is nothing to you now. You can wait until he’s free. “Guess so.” 

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.” 

Huh? Knitted brows get aimed at your cup as you question him.

“Chips, doll. Jimin has some in the pantry.” 

That doesn’t answer anything, so you remain thoroughly confused. “I’ll be okay,” you respond after a moment, simply assuming he wants you to replenish sodium. “I’m not hungry.”  

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

“But you better bring the good shit or I’m not letting you in the car.”

After camping in the only unoccupied bathroom, you finally get a text that he’s somewhere around the corner. 

And your chest has never felt lighter.

Texting Tae, you let him know that you’re leaving and that you don’t apologize to Jimin for raiding his kitchen. When he responds, that’s when you slip out, your departure a mess of crinkling and racing heartbeats. 

If anyone sees you walking out with chips, you pay them no mind. Because you only care what one person thinks.

And seven minutes later, when you see him doubling over at the bazillion noisy bags in your arms, you laugh along at the absurdity of it all.

It’s almost enough to distract you from what he’s wearing. 

But to your credit, you don’t exactly see the damn rips in his jeans until he opens a back door for you to throw your haul in.

As if the black top wasn’t already disrespectful enough. His hair has even gotten longer, and you really, really like the new length.

“Fucking hustler.”

No second is wasted as you grab his shirt, positively melting at the way he doesn’t resist or shy away at all. 

In fact, he does the exact opposite, crushing you against his warm car so fast he has to brace himself. You welcome the way air leaves your lungs, because you’re giving it all to him with each pass of his lips over yours. 

Both of you know you’re outside, in public, somewhere you can be seen. But, mirroring the last time you kissed under a starry sky, neither of you act like you give a shit.

Just like that, everything that has haunted you fades. The worries, the fears, the doubts. It doesn’t matter how many days have passed, because it feels like he never left. 

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless. 

“Get in,” he rasps through a smirk. “Thief.” 

With a grin spread so wide your cheeks hurt, you respond right as your foreheads meet,

“Anything for you.”

With nothing but the road ahead and him beside you, everything is right with the world.

“You still have to gimme chips.” 

Maybe not quite everything.

Smile ruining your attempted pout, you reach behind your seat to pick a random bag, settling on the easiest one to grab. “You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”

“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”

Well. That first sentence will never, ever, ever be unpacked.

As you shakily open the bag, you hope his music hides your shiver, “Such a smartass.”

“You’re the smartass.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh, tugging down your dress because he has his car pretty cold tonight. “I know you are.” 

When Yoongi reaches to grab some crisps, his blatant stare on your thighs makes you squirm. “Why?” 

“I just… You read.” 

To your chagrin, he laughs in surprise, forcing you to look out the window. 

Which makes you miss the way he turns down the fans. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”

“You have books under your coffee table,” you answer without doubt as he digs for more chips. “And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”

He cocks a brow before focusing on the road, licking his fingers and giving you grief. “I moved those, by the way.”

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

He can barely contain his spreading curve. “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.” 

Your heartbeat skips as you gawk, and the current song is overshadowed by your playful shouts and tickle attempts. “Oh, bullshit!”

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”

Yoongi glances at you then, head tilted up in cockiness and wide smirk slicing through your every thought.

And you glitch when you realize why.

Settling back into your seat with arms guarding your shyness, you sniff upward. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.” 

He chuckles a bit before making a turn, and the scenery starts getting familiar.

Way too familiar.

Wait, he’s taking you back to your house?

No no no. Why is he taking you there? 

You got into his car fully prepared to go back to his place, consequences and shit be damned. Everything else be damned. One night is all you want right now, and there’s no way you aren’t going without a fight.

All sense of the current mood dissipates when you grip his forearm. “Not there.” 

He flicks his gaze, rolling to a stop at an intersection that’s frighteningly close. And his expression falls when he shifts into park with a sigh. “Babe… We can’t.” 

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?” 

He freezes. 

Which gives you a chance. 

Eyes glossy, you use all the seconds you have to say everything you’ve kept to yourself.

Almost everything.

“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t”—you inhale, hating how it shakes—“I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.” 

Yoongi is completely silent. But that’s okay because you aren’t done. 

“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” You can’t look at him when his hand slips from the wheel. “I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”

He doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”

Time ticks as you hold your breath, oxygen depleting and lungs nearing collapse as you watch his eyes close. 

You laid everything out on the table. Your words, your thoughts, your pain.

Whatever he decides, though? You’ll respect it. You said what you wanted to say and you won’t take any of it back. If he wants to prolong this, you won’t stop him. If he doesn’t want this anymore… the home in your heart will need repairs, but you’ll live. Somewhat. You don’t know how but somehow. People are like seasons. You’re used to it.

Yoongi’s still way too quiet. 

So, giving up and getting the point, you reach up to open your door.

“Stop.” 

You do. 

And the way he flexes his jaw shoots magma through your veins before he wrenches the car into drive. 

The universe spins as you burst into Yoongi’s apartment, running, bumping, slamming into furniture until you get thrown against his bedroom door. 

Welcoming the pain, you devour his scorching lips, fingers digging into his hair with a desperation that frightens you. All you feel is him him him, barely recalling the manic drive over and the way he all but busted into his own place. 

If there were any lingering doubts to your question, they’re left out in the chill, not allowed to witness the way he hitches your leg up before pinning you firm with his pelvis.

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—” 

You moan at the way his jeans feel on your skin, shivers running rampant when you more than feel his hardness poke through. “Please,” you pant, sticking to your word and ready to tell him what you want. 

“Please what.” 

Everything you want. 

Tugging his head back, your admissions rub right against his mouth, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”

“Huh?”

A breath whooshes out when he yanks you forward with a growl, and you cannot seem to stop, “Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”

All the other times, you’ve seen Yoongi break in different ways. 

But this is the first time you’ve felt him legitimately snap. 

“The fuck.”

Lightning strikes the dark as he slams you backward, teeth clinking against yours when he smothers you with saliva and lust. When he shoves his door open, you stumble back, more unholy plans in mind than he imagines. 

You don’t know what’s coming over you. 

Even as you force him sideways to shove into his rolling chair, the piercing look he gives is no match for your inner storm.

“Babe—”

Impatient, you drop to your knees, the pain nothing to you as your fingers twitch over his zipper. As you tug his pants down with force, Yoongi’s outright shock is another first for you.

“Are you su—”

“Let me do this,” you plead upward, and you feel highly motivated when he doesn’t do a thing except let out a low, gritty hum. 

Grabbing at his cock, you already moan at the way it feels in your palm…

Softly, oh so softly, a large hand closes over yours, and you hear your name in a whisper, haze temporarily receding. 

What’s wrong? Does he want you to stop?

When you ask without a word, Yoongi leans forward to capture your lips, and this gives you a warm sort of deja vu. “You drank tonight, yeah?” 

“Yeah…?” Oh. He totally tasted alcohol. And your frantic behavior. He thinks—Oh. 

Understanding what he’s getting at, you reach up and caress his cheek. “I’m not drunk, baby,” you chuckle. “I just missed you.” 

Again, he looks at your eyes, one after the other. When you say it once more for good measure, he kisses you in acceptance. 

“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”

He falls back with a groan, raking his hair and legs spread wide. “What are you doing to me.”

“This.”

Without prompt, you dive head first, leaning forward to take his tip and swirl your tongue all around. Commanding his every drop of attention, you don’t let up as you tug your dress downward, breasts spilling out before you stand just enough to claim his lips. 

He takes full advantage with a devilish curve, smacking your tits before ordering, “Get the fuck back down there.”

And you obey with a proud smirk of your own, hoping he’s liking this new side of you, too. 

Back between his knees, you worship his length in earnest, swallowing him again and again and lathering him in saliva so your hands slide easily on him, too. When you feel his veins rub both your palms, you hear a symphony of lustful baritones.

“Holy fuck.” 

You quickly discover you can’t get enough. Lapping, sucking, sheathing your head on his cock so far your brain smushes upward. He feels so familiar at this point that you realize you missed him even here, knocking the back of your throat and burdening your tongue with heavenly, sinful weight. 

And you feel more familiar palms grip your head, eyes opening to see him staring down with reverence and something you can’t quite decipher. 

“So fucking filthy...” 

You chuckle, the rumble making him hiss and throw his head back against his chair. 

“Don’t do that.” 

You gladly disobey, laughing even harder around him before releasing with an expert pop to suck on his balls. 

“Fuck!”

There’s a slight squeak before he grips you again, and you can tell he’s slipping by the way his moans devolve into breathy, short hisses. 

Breaking, he pushes your head into his sack before slapping your cheek with his cock, and you hum as it slips back inside your grin. 

Yes yes yes. You want him to enjoy this just as much as you do, steal this time together and run with it, need him to hang on the brink of mania where you currently reside. Because even though he’s saying things, you can’t hear them over the wholly impure sounds slopping out of your esophagus. 

“Fucking hell, baby,” he praises, thrusting up slow as you keep him slathered. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

You finally come up for air, gulping in air and letting him see you in all your panting glory. When you lock eyes, his lidded gaze is loaded, aimed only at your taunting stare.

Drool coats you in globs. Your chest, the floor, hanging from your lips as you stroke him with wet fingers before swallowing another time. 

And you think you can do this until your jaw falls off.

But suddenly you’re hoisted upward before being thrown onto soft sheets, legs roughly shifted to one side as you paint the dark with your hoarse giggles. Before you know it, his lips attack your chest, and he’s setting butterflies wild as you arch in record time. 

“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at your dress with sweaty fingers that you want lodged in multiple places. “No more hiding.” 

You mewl, undressing as fast as you’re able, tearing the garment off and flinging it away. But your heels are still on, and whether he’s just as deft at removing those, too, you’ll need to hit pause. “What about my—”

“Don’t,” he grits with brows pinched, and his next vow is absolute, pure sin,

“I’m fucking you with them on.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Your whine is high as you throw your head back, the next groan guttural as you feel a hand smack the side of your ass with force. Your jaw comes loose, soreness shooting through its curve as your legs are erotically parted to give Yoongi a view of everything. 

You know your panties are soaked. 

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit. 

But seeing him eye the whole mess on display before lifting his hungry gaze your way? You’re damn sure you aren’t gonna survive the night. 

Perfect. 

“Please fuck me, baby,” you let out with a tone so soft that you think he doesn’t hear you. 

He does. “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.” 

You tilt your head, confused and wondering what he means. 

But he ignores your wordless question, sliding fingers along your ankle before holding your leg to kiss that same spot. 

The action alone is enough to rewire your brain, but it’s the way he looks so confident, so unbothered, so determined that has your insides churning with want. 

He plants lips there again before shifting his hand down to your calf, yanking your leg back wide and pulling a tiny help out of your throat. When he shifts to grip your other leg, he growls under his breath, 

“So fucking perfect.” 

“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and flinch what the fuck his slap to your cunt felt good. “Hey!”

“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.” 

“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, inevitably shy under his commanding presence. Your cheeks sizzle before your teeth grip your lip, temporarily brought back to normalcy at his confession,

“Almost made me come.” 

“Be for real.” 

“Damn serious.” 

The cheshire cat would be jealous of your grin. “Then I should keep going?”

“Uh huh.” He cups your whole cunt, and the possessive nature it exudes pushes a whine against your teeth. “Tell me.” 

“Fuck me like you missed me.” 

A groan rips through his room before he swoops down, lips bruising yours on the landing before he shoves his mouth against your neck. 

Tingles erupt over your skin as he laps at your throat, so hard that your entire upper body slides across his rumpled sheets. When you feel his cock rub across your thong and his jeans grazing your skin, his name flies out of your chest. Moans, sighs, everything in between. 

“Careful,” he warns low before another toe-curling lick. “You won’t leave if I did that.”

“I don’t want to,” you grit in return, reaching to sink claws in his hair and tug. “Wanna stay.”

Strong arms wrap around you before you feel him spread liquid fire up your shoulder, and he reaches to nip at your ear before deft fingers flick a nipple. 

His voice rasps against your cheek, but the words sound reluctant to even leave. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”

Fuck. You know that’s true but your heart is rattling like a monster starved. 

“Just tonight,” you plead your case. Because you don’t want to be shooed away before it’s over, but if this is all you get, he needs to do something now. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”

“Fuck that.” After greedily tweaking your other nipple, he rolls his body against yours, making you fiend for the weighty cock wedged against you with only thin material between. “Fuck all of that.” 

He rushes upward before nudging your leg over with a strong hand, and you fixate on the way his chains hit his chest. Just like always. “Don’t move.”

You don’t even get to breathe twice as he drops from sight, and you yelp to his roof as soon as you feel teeth nick your inner thigh. At your flinch, you feel him grip your leg with force, ordering you even harsher,

“I said. Don’t move.” 

“But—Yoongi!” 

You don’t notice him yank your underwear sideways before flattening a hot tongue against your folds, sucking so good you have to back away from the stimulation. Immediately, both your legs are seized before he tugs you back to him. 

“Uh uh.”

And he keeps your legs apart before diving deep, and you’ve never devolved into a quivering mess so fast in your goddamn life. The way he licks, sucks, kisses just where you need—everything sends thunder through your chest, lightning across your cunt, rain into your eyes. 

You can do nothing but squirm, squeals and whines and high moans leaving arrowheads in his ceiling. 

Holy fuck, did you sound this loud when you worshipped him? Even now, spread wide and willing to give Yoongi the world, you find a moment to be embarrassed in the best way.

If the neighbors hear, you don’t care. They’re gonna know how well he’s feasting on you, how gorgeously corrupt you feel. How you’re his and his alone and ready to scream it to the rooftops. 

When you feel a finger alongside his tongue, the sound you make borders on inhuman. You think it’s his name, but even you aren’t quite sure. 

All you know is that you’re close. Your thighs are burning and your fingers swipe at his locks but he refuses to let you go. “Yoongi—I’m—”

Suddenly.

He stops. 

And every nice thing you have to say to him falls to the wayside. “No no no! Please, fuck—”

The light tap to your cunt makes you quiver, and your chest heaves when he chuckles without pity,

“What’d you say?” 

“Plea—Baby!” 

“Huh?” 

Every fucking time you speak, he taps again. And every time he gets you close, he edges with aggravating control. Again. And again. 

And again.

You exist between reality and fiction, somehow seeing yourself unwinding, winding, spiraling out of control. Words start to form abstract blobs of syllables, your mouth hanging open as he peppers lazy, unbothered kisses on your thighs.  

In your foggy vision, you think you see him stand. And you’re pretty sure he grabs his cock before he’s rubbing his thick head between your folds oh fuck—

“This is what you wanted, huh.” 

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?” 

Oh, you’re gonna be whatever he fucking wants. So you nod again, not without a smile lopsided. 

“Then fucking beg.” 

He smacks his cockhead against your cunt, springing your back in an arch and tugging strings of incoherent speech from your depths. You make hard lines of his sheets as you grip them in both palms, and you don’t wanna know what you’re saying because the way Yoongi’s staring with a smirk has you blacking the fuck out. 

To the point where you’re nothing but a quivering, shaking, restless mess on his bed.

You somehow closed your eyes at some point, because they fly open when you feel his lips on yours, and you tug at his stupidly attractive shirt that he didn’t bother to pull off. “Please,” you whisper, brain floating oceans away. “I need you.”

“Need you, too.” 

He breaks away to grab a condom, and this is when you realize how intertwined you feel because even this distance is too much to bear. You’re spilling nonsense and breathing harsh and you attribute that to the sole fact that you crave release. It’s aching. Consuming. 

Yoongi’s already naked and prepped by the time he positions himself between your sore legs, and you give in without resistance again when he descends on your lips. 

When you whisper his name, he kisses it away, and you briefly wonder why his hands shake running up your sides. 

Finally, finally, finally, he gives exactly what you want, the initial connection stretching you sore because it’s been way too long. And you feel emotional when you don’t even doubt it’s been too long for him, too. 

Because his eyes speak volumes. 

They hold onto your every move, watch your every reaction, hesitate when you blow out air accommodating his size. 

But you lock yours with him when you relax, weakly grasping his jewelry before sliding fingers up his shoulders. When you nod, he pushes in further, both of you sighing in tandem. 

And as soon as you whisper you’re ready, all niceties fly out the window. 

You’re thrusted up his bed with a determined stroke before he sets a pace, and your head kicks back as soon as a hand captures your neck. 

“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”

When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and you already sprint to the edge feeling the weight of your heels and the strength of his body. “Fuck!”

You get pat again—rougher this time—before Yoongi goes to choke you a second time. “What do you say?”

“Me?” you pant, tearing the first thought from your throat when he grits it again. “Thank—” 

Fuck, his dick is hitting every spot you need it to. It takes you a second to repeat your garbled guess in full, knowing it’s something you would’ve said anyway. “Thank you.”

“Now swallow.” 

As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is your undoing. The skies open to welcome you as your body locks, thighs squeezing his taut sides as he moans through your release. Waves tug you unbelievably far, and you almost lose yourself in the swell before you crash onto shore again.

“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, kicking you back to the very first night and making you melt. When you peel eyelids open, you notice his smile matches yours, and the shared, cherished memory smoothens your gravelly laugh.

“Love when you do that,” you admit, shaking your head at your own strange preferences. “Don’t know why.” 

“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.” 

Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe. 

“I’m ready,” you pant, and he gives you a brief look of affection—which you shatter with force. “Fuck the shit out of me.” 

Yoongi twitches madly inside your core as he expels a pained, breathy laugh. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He doesn’t waste a second gathering your calves while you ponder what he says. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.”

When you find the easiest way to do so, you marvel at how shaky and slippery your thighs are, wondering if the rest of you is faring any better. 

It’s not. 

But you can’t dwell on that now because Yoongi is holding on like he’ll lose you, resuming a delicious pace and smacking your hips into his with the most indecent sounds. 

Your whines soon join in, and his hums of satisfaction fuel your ever going flame. Heaven and earth could move and you would remain here, suspended in time as he fills you perfectly with every fast stroke. 

“Feel so good—”

When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.” 

What is he— 

You’re hoisted upward so quickly that you see starlight, not even registering the clanks and shifts of items before he’s spinning to pin you down on a solid surface. Your heels find purchase on the floor but your knees prove unbelievably weak.

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

Your hands retreat until they find an edge to grab, and you moan outright when you feel his fingers slide up your cunt, shoving your thong farther over one side of your ass. 

“Yoongi—”

You feel full in an instant, jaw going slack as he shoves you backwards on his cock, praises washing down your back as he pushes down any arches you instinctively make. 

“Uh uh. Stay like that.” 

“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with a whine as you feel a sting on your ass. “Fuck!”

“There you go.” 

The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and making you briefly worry if anything will fall.

But this is the most turned on you’ve ever, ever felt, and you have no fucking clue why.

You wonder if he feels the same right before his dark laugh consumes you.

“Goddamn.” 

Your hands are grabbed before he shoves you forward, letting more of your body lie on the surface so that he can pin sweaty arms at your back. 

Oh, fuck!

Your moans glide across wood as he doesn’t let up, and you don’t even want to know how much drool will exist on his desk when you’re done. Maybe you’ll never be done. Maybe he really will keep you here forever, and you’ll soak his whole—

“Come here.” 

He gathers your wrists in one large palm before reaching to grip your chest, hauling you up and securing you against his body by the throat. 

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel. 

Pressing you further into him, he grits in your ear, 

“Never fucking kicking you out.” His tight stroke launches you across space. “Don’t even think about saying that again.” 

When did you— You said— Why don’t you remember—

You go limp when he shoves into you again, but your heels wobble and you focus damn hard on staying upright. 

But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.” 

“Yes!”

“Good.”

He drops all talk, pistoning in from behind while you take it and take it and love it. Mercifully, he lets your sore arms go to pin you down again, gritted words and curses dancing with your high-pitched sighs. 

Fuck, his strokes are so deep that you see into the next universe, and you don’t think your mouth has been shut ever since you made contact with his desk. 

Maybe he was more frustrated than you were. He’s using you as stress relief like you intended, and his roughness is a fantastic surprise. 

It’s just what you need. Which kicks you into a whole other level of want and the beast inside you transforms yet again. 

When Yoongi yanks himself out, you’re quick to spin and shove him backward. As he flops onto the bed, he laughs like sin incarnate when you pounce, his hot hands grabbing at your hips and encouraging your behavior in the nastiest way.

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.” 

When you sink onto him, Yoongi’s already groaning. But when you start to swivel at a pace that will render you sore, he begins to lose it. 

“Fuck.”

His head kicks back, eyes shut and brows pinched to hell. After holding your waist, he has to slap his sheets to squeeze even tighter, chest marred with red under pretty silver. 

You make sure every rotation is full, slowly rocking with each circle you make and gritting teeth at how fucking big he is.

Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips so hard you welcome the pain. 

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep. 

“It missed you, too.”

Coming back up, you dig one of your hands in his mattress while bracing on him with the other, and you close your eyes in bliss as you arch your tits toward his hungry lips. 

Just like you want, he chuckles in satisfaction as he suckles, lolling his tongue all around before giving your nipple  a hard suck. His noises remind you of lollipops, and you briefly think of a few fun things you could do with those for next time.

But a hand juts up to seize the back of your neck, forcing you to arch in place as he starts thrusting hard. 

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”  

Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you just enough, and you find yourself teetering on a precipice. Holy fuck, holy fuck, you’re close again.

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.” 

As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him incredibly hard. The waves prove tsunamis, and you dangle from their crests before plummeting and tumbling below. Your moan extends as he thrusts erratically through your quivers, encouraging you and digging rough fingers into your hips. 

“Again.” 

Somehow, that’s enough to make your body obey, and you cry out as you flutter around his trembling cock, hearing him talk you through it but not quite understanding what he’s saying. 

Maybe you also choose not to listen because of what you think you hear, and you don’t want to be haunted if you realize later on what you thought you heard wasn’t true. 

The world rotates up as Yoongi sits up, and you sling arms around him as he leans back on his hands. Your breath hitches at the new angle he’s filling you at, and your eyes swirl when he coolly, confidently commands, 

“Again.” 

You can’t you can’t you can’t but you can. Holy fuck apparently you can, and this time, it consumes you so hard your eyes roll back enough to see the past. Past you, insecure and meek and scared to say what they want. 

Oh, if they could witness you now. 

You shudder impossibly hard around him, coated with his deep chuckles and dashing, ego-ridden grin. It’s all you see before you slump against his chest, heartbeat pounding against yours when you can’t feel any bone in your body.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

“For you,” you wisp out, lost in galaxies. “Only you.” 

He can only kiss the side of your head in response, gently lowering you both onto spent cotton and helping you straighten out your muscle-locked legs. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection. 

Both of you take time to calm down, breaths heavy from what felt like a marathon. But a much better marathon than the one you’ve had to endure over the last three months. 

When you lie against his chest, you silently thank him for giving you tonight. It’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done with him, but you won’t worry about it. Not right now. Not when you feel more at home here than your own house. 

Your brother is right. Something is definitely missing over there. 

It’s when your pants have relaxed into soft breaths that you nudge your head against Yoongi’s chest, eyes shut in peace as he lazily draws circles on your back. 

And the first words he says in minutes inject sparkles into your eyes,

“I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.” 

Oh, shit!

Your outright squeal is surely coming out too loud but you don’t care. Don’t care don’t care don’t care not when Yoongi just gave away so many different things. 

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

“I knew it!” You proclaim in triumph, smacking his thigh while hearing a very elongated ‘shut up’ at your side. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

God. If only you both could go on one of those late night shopping trips he talked about before. Maybe you could’ve gotten plenty of things. Like some little cat toys, or extra storage cabinets for your clothes. 

Yeah. Stuff like that. 

“I’m her favorite.” 

Your scoff is immediate as you hoist yourself up, leaning on your hand and regretting the burn in your arm. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”

A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.”

Yoongi looks so at peace when you stare, and your voice calms to match as it floats down, “You took care of her.”

When he only smiles, you decide that this is how you want him to be all the time. Content and outright glowing, fireflies dancing in his eyes. 

Does he feel at home, too? 

“She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”

Heart and tear ducts full, you lower yourself to tenderly press lips to his. And, since it seems to work for you, his forehead is what you decide to kiss next. 

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore. 

“Come here.”

You blink, lying back down to snuggle against his side. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, it's only then that you’re aware you still have shoes on. A clean person, you hope Yoongi doesn’t mind them touching his sheets. 

But maybe it’s a tad too late for that concern. 

“How are you gonna get home?”

Oh, right. You use his chest to scratch an itch in your nose before responding, “I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.” 

“K.” 

“Did I keep you from anything?”

A puff flies out his nostrils. “Kinda late for that, huh.” 

“True,” you sigh, berating yourself for thinking a lot of things too late. “Sorry.”  

“But no, we were finishing up when I called.” 

“Okay… Did I scare you?” You lift your eyes then, because you need to know for sure. 

When he levels a look, you curse at his quiet confirmation. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“S’ok.” 

“I just… It hurt tonight.” Emotion washes over your face before you bury it. “Really hurt.” 

After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently rolls you over, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, and your heart stops. “How about now.” 

Feeling the deepest pain you’ve ever felt in your life, you cradle his head with a whisper, 

“Maybe try that one more time.”

And he does, not looking at your tears as he sits up to peer down the bed. 

When he scoots down to the edge, your breath catches as he holds a heel in sure hands, his back beautiful even with the scars. While he works through leather straps, he starts to speak, 

“I always do, babe.” 

Blinking, you ask what he means as he slips your shoe off with ease.

“Miss you.”

As he tenderly holds the other, you gulp in oxygen to quell the sear around your eyes. “I just… Wasn’t sure,” you admit, voice wavering. 

His hair falls forward when he sighs, and his palms feel way too relaxing to just be taking your heels off. Even now, it feels like he’s revering you. And you truly don’t know how you deserve any of this. 

“That’s my fault.” 

Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.” 

After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, and you don’t know how to deal with someone giving you this level of care. 

“Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, and you admire his profile when he turns. “I’m sorry.” 

“You gave me tonight.” 

When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give, 

“A little longer is nothing.” 

A moment passes by before he finally moves, and you catch a hint of a smile right before he faces his disheveled to hell desk again. 

Deciding that conversation has concluded, you crack the atmosphere with a joke, “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leans forward. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.” 

Us.

Thoroughly giddy and full of life again, you egg him on. “Oh? Like what?”

Finally, he looks over his shoulder with a grin, and you scoff in frustration at his answer,

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

While you’re getting ready to shower, he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom.

“We have a game next week.” 

As you fetch a towel from his cabinet, you clarify, “The championship, right?”

“Mmhmm.” 

“I’ll be there,” you confirm, walking away to slip the thick cloth over its rack. “I can’t believe it’s still going.” 

“Same. But there’ve been a lot of delays, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Your hand feels out the water, satisfied with its temperature. “I meant your win streak but whatever.” 

And you squeal when he rushes forward, shutting the glass with a wobbly thud before he can get to you. When you stick out a childish tongue, you laugh under the spray, curve slowly, curiously, softly fading when he simply keeps staring.

What’s he doing?

You don’t move as he slowly slides the entrance open again, and you don’t dare breathe as he leans inside to kiss your wet lips.

When you tenderly take one of his wrists and pull, he obliges without hesitation, and you take another shower with the man that sets fireworks off in your soul. 

An hour later, filled with food and laughter—and slight disappointment when you couldn’t find your surprise near his door—you occupy his bed with full bellies and fresh minds. 

As he lies on your chest, you think this is better, because it gives you time to think about things. And tell him about others. 

You finally tell him what all happened with Jungkook, to which he listens without a single word. When you can’t seem to shut up about your job, he doesn’t stop you, and you adore the way he cuddles you under faint moonlight cutting through his window. 

“Oh, wait,” you stop, feeling like you’ve talked his head off by now. “What did you call about?”

“Huh? Tonight?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” Yoongi rumbles against the shirt he let you borrow. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

He chuckles soft, and you wonder if he can guess how shocked you look. “Yes, you. All of y’all.” 

At least it’s everyone. But at the same time, you still hesitate. “That won’t be weird?” 

“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.” 

“Ah, I see.”

You didn’t mean to sound disappointed. You truly aren’t. But Yoongi pushes up to comfort you anyway, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and finally your lips. 

“It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”

“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.” 

Yoongi regards you before laying his weight back on your chest. And you find it strange how familiar his body already feels. How you’re already attuned to every way his legs fit against your own, or how you would know it’s him solely based on how his chest molds with yours. 

You start mindlessly caressing his hair, fingers weaving through a dark sea of strands before smoothing over its surface. 

And you start to hum.

It’s not really any song, just notes you start stringing together at random. You build up before you dip back down, staying in a comfortable middle range and dancing between similar tones. 

You stop from time to time, trying to figure out what would sound best next and changing up the cadence. Always coming back to a central theme because it’s what you deem best.

And you’re so comfortable that you completely forgot he’s lying right under your chin.

“Shit, was I too loud?”

He just shakes his head, arm pressing a bit more into your side. 

“Not at all.” 

So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, softly giggling when Yoongi huffs at the way you drum on his head. 

And that’s how the night goes on, with you at peace and him in your embrace.

Never noticing how the shirt you're wearing collects rain.

When dawn breaks, you part with one final, heavenly kiss. 

Yoongi watches until you get in the ride he politely called for you, and you spend the whole drive with eyes filled with light. 

You can do this. Just a little longer, he said.

For him, you can do anything. 

But when you get home, your brother occupies the foyer as soon as you open the front door.

And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.

“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”  

—

—

—

tbc. :) 

—

a ha ha... what do we think/like! | wanna support with a 🍊?

A/N: i’m so swirly-eyed that i don’t even know what to say here other than i’m sorry for throwing that ending at y’all! busted pt. 2 is gonna be its own huge part at this point so i had no choice but to end it here (originally it was gonna end before they went back to yoongi’s but i love y’all too much dlkfjdsklf)  A/N 2: gonna say this again: enormous thank you to everyone supporting this whole journey, whether that’s liking/commenting/reblogging/messaging, recommending this series to people, telling me how it makes you feel or what it means to you, or even wanting a physical copy of the series like😭 that’s surreal to me and makes me wanna keep working harder.  A/N 3: as far as feedback, i would absolutely love any type y’all wanna give. this chapter took all of my brainpower and the next one is gonna take just as much haahahahdksfks so any encouragement would be wonderful!  ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist 

#and the wait is finally over sheeeesh! #bts #bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi fic #yoongi x you #btshoneyhive #bangtanarmynet #bts smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #*latest #*ryenfictalk #ryenwrites #3tan10 #i hope y'all are ok with how much is in here hahahah #yoongi

[marimbles]

happy holidays @0ellestrid0! I was your secret santa for @mlsecretsanta 💜

I don’t know much about solarpunk but I was intrigued by the concept and wanted to give it a shot! hopefully this is ok. random silly solarpunk AU ideas under the cut hehe

since solarpunk is about solar power and green/eco-friendly societal structure, I figured plants would be central to an ML solarpunk AU. it’s cool to imagine a version of Paris with lots of green areas and clever, space-saving, clean-energy solutions. I like the idea of the dupain-chengs having their own greenhouse where they grow ingredients for use in the bakery. And I wanted marinette to have her own greenhouse too where she grows plants that she uses as fibers and dyes for making clothes! So that’s what I drew here. Chat Noir likes to help marinette in her garden and he nerds out about the plants which she thinks is very cute:)

The plant in the middle is associated with ladybug and chat noir. I love sun/moon symbolism and that seemed to fit a solarpunk AU really well so I ran with it haha. in this AU I thought tikki could be a spotted sun beetle and plagg could be a black moon cat (or panther?). sun beetles would be associated with the sundrop plant (first image), and moon cats would be associated with moonflowers (second image). chat noir’s tattoo is a moonflower and in my mind ladybug would have a matching one that’s a sundrop.

The moonflower is inspired by the actual plant of the same name, which blooms only at night, except I wanted to also make it bioluminescent bc that’s cool lol. (I’ve been playing lots of tears of the kingdom and I always love the blue nightshades and silent princesses that glow blue in the dark!) irl moonflowers are actually a type of morning glory, which typically bloom in the morning in full sunlight and then close up at night. so in this AU the sundrop is the corresponding plant (since “sunflower” is already taken, haha) and it would also glow, but only during the day when it’s blooming.

I thought maybe sundrops and moonflowers could have magical effects and marinette is experimenting to discover them. maybe there’s stuff about them in the grimoire and she’s trying to unlock special powers for her and chat noir. maybe those effects and the symbolism of the plants could help her understand more about her and chat’s roles and abilities and potential and even help her discover the key to defeating hawkmoth…hmm… (I really haven’t thought too deeply about it lol I just like glowing plants)

As for their outfits…I was just trying to make them look sort of “punk”-y 😂 I feel like in all the punk AUs like steampunk, cyberpunk, etc, people are always wearing goggles and boots and aprons and vests and stuff with pockets and zippers and arm braces. So. I made a vague attempt fjdkkd

anyway thanks for humoring me with my rambling lol I hope you enjoy and that you had a good holiday!

#also sorry this is a little late!! #ml #marichat #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #solarpunk #mine #my art

[darlingofdots]

more temeraire twitter AU courtesy of my best and favourite partner in shitposts @queenofsovngarde:

the twitter rose garden dude announces that he will be travelling for a while "for family reasons" so unfortunately there will be no updates on the new varieties. please do not be concerned, he has every faith in the substitute gardener

he posts very sporadically for a couple of weeks, mostly seascapes. some closeups of plants in the botanical garden in Beijing. "why is rose garden dude in China he said he was travelling for family reasons" -- "idk his husband's family probably??" -- "dude his husband is Nepali are you stupid"

"wait rose garden dude is married? he has a husband???" -- "you must be new here"

and then. and then. the Official State Twitter Account of the Actual Emperor Mianning of China

posts one of those official but candid photos you get on state visits

of the Actual Emperor Mianning of China and the twitter rose garden dude walking in the palace gardens together. the emperor is smiling. rose garden dude is pointing at a blooming shrub that has clearly been freshly planted. there is a black Celestial sitting on his haunches behind them. the caption is "It is always a delight to welcome our younger brother and his companion."

what. the. fuck.

the internet has a meltdown

Twitter Rose Garden Dude Is A Prince of China [NOT CLICKBAIT] (05:47:13)

the Admiralty's social media interns suddenly sit bolt upright in bed, in a cold sweat

@Excidium_IV (30 minutes ago): are we seriously going to do this again he always gets so embarrassed when people find out

"wait the rose garden dude is will laurence the convicted traitor?" -- @Excidium_IV (15 seconds ago): benafflecksmoking.jpg

there's a whole week of hashtag discourse if he's actually allowed to call himself a prince of China or if that's like, imperialism or cultural appropriation or whatever

when Laurence said "family reasons" he meant that Temeraire and Mei are going to try for an egg again but he would rather die than admit that in public

#dottie rambles #temeraire #the temeraire twitter au #i wish i could art i want to draw that official photo so badly

[blossom-tales]

Flower of the day: Cafe au Lait dahlia!

The Cafe au Lait dahlia is a captivating marvel of nature, boasting luxurious blooms that embody elegance and charm. Each petal unfurls gracefully, revealing a palette of creamy tones delicately kissed by whispers of blush pink. With its immense size and intricate layers, this dahlia exudes opulence and sophistication, captivating all who behold its breathtaking beauty. A true standout in gardens and bouquets alike, the Cafe au Lait dahlia infuses warmth and grace into any setting, inviting admiration and awe with every bloom.

#plants #photography #flowers #dahlia #cafe au lait #plant photography

[comatosebunny09]

Stuck on this royalty AU in which you’ve rejected King Astarion’s advances too many times.

You’ve been his bodyguard for years. One of the few people who’s seen the man beneath the crown, stripped bare and bleeding. Naturally, you both grew to care for each other more than a king and subject should.

Astarion’s come dangerously close to confessing his feelings for you. But you’ve always staved him off, believing you’re unfit to be anything more than one who serves him. Never his equal.

Cue you sabotaging your budding romance by suggesting he pursue people of his caliber.

He humors you if only to make you jealous. Even the maids know how this man pines for you.

One day, he takes the hand of a beautiful young woman to tour his garden, whispering things into her ear to make her giggle. He perches a hand at the small of her back. Smiles in that charming, boyish way that he typically reserves for you. He puts on a show just for you, his gaze often flitting over his shoulder because he knows you’re following dutifully behind.

Try as you might to mask your ire, he can practically hear the gears whirring in your head. You’re so blinded by your jealousy that you go stumbling into a pond. How comical a sight you pose, the king’s professional and stone-faced guard dog, sputtering and flailing about like a wet cat.

You’re mortified as his servants scramble to get you out, your cape and armor waterlogged. Astarion instinctively moves to assist, wriggling out of the young woman’s hold. You lock eyes with your king as he reaches for you. Over his shoulder, you watch his guest stifle a giggle behind her gloved hand.

Your heart plummets into your stomach. You could only hope to be someone as beautiful and titillating. The king deserves someone cut from a similar cloth as him, not a lowly dog with calluses on their hands and scars littering their body.

You dismiss yourself with a curt bow, your dignity bruised, your eyes burning with the threat of tears. Hardly notice Astarion briskly excusing himself from his guest to follow you.

You stomp into the servant’s quarters, a few maids scuttling about with towels to dry you off. You’re so embarrassed you don’t even have the voice to tell them you can do it yourself. Astarion cautiously wanders in, quietly dismissing the maids to fetch you a change of uniform.

You can’t meet his eye as he kneels before you, trying vainly to hide his smile whilst he towels you off.

“I’m not even sure what you’re jealous of. You’re the one who told me to move on, remember?” the king softly scolds.

You scoff. “Jealous? Me?”

Astarion gives you a deadpan look. “Darling, you practically drowned yourself trying to get an earful of our conversation.”

“Did not.”

“Right. I suppose the pond stepped into your way, then?”

Another scoff accompanied by heat blooming into your cheeks.

“Come now, darling. As lovely as you are, green just isn’t your color.”

You cut your eyes at him in warning, to which he chuckles something deep and alluring.

Astarion pats your knee, standing to his full height. He offers you his hand, insisting you take it with a look after you refuse him. He pulls you to him, uncaring if his doublet gets wet, pilfering the breath from your lungs.

The king gazes down at you with all the tenderness of the world, his hand splayed at the small of your back. The proximity of your body causes your mind to whirl and your lips to part with a gasp.

“Let’s get you changed, hmm?”

You worry your bottom lip with your teeth. “What about your date, Majesty?”

Astarion shrugs, rolling his eyes dismissively. “I’m sure she’ll find someone else to occupy her time. I’ve more…important matters to attend to,” he says, his gaze simmering like a low flame.

He ushers you into the hallway, steering you towards his room to get you cleaned up. A luxury only you know, no one else having been allowed to see his room as often as you have.

You shiver, still soaked to the bone. Astarion tucks you close into his side, rubbing your arm to ward off the chill. You smile triumphantly quietly, knowing you’re the only person he’s touched like this in years.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #royalty au #let me dream #king!astarion #astarion romance #astarion fluff #astarion imagine

[edenesth]

Blossoming Alliances

Pairing: prince!Yunho x princess!reader

AU: arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10.9k

Summary: As a means to bring peace between two kingdoms, Prince Yunho of Wonderland is forced into an arranged marriage with the Princess of Aurora. Firmly against the idea of being bound to a complete stranger, the prince makes things more difficult than it has to be. What happens when he finds himself falling for the princess that he so strongly refuses to marry?

ATEEZ Masterlist

"I don't care what the king and queen have planned for me, I'm not-"

Yunho's protest abruptly halted as he skidded to a stop, the air seemingly knocked out of his lungs and his words stuck in his throat. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his gaze ensnared by an ethereal sight.

Following closely behind him, Yeosang, the prince's trusted advisor and personal assistant, muttered a quiet curse as he narrowly avoided colliding with the taller man's back.

The prince's eyes widened in awe as he beheld the graceful figure of the individual meant to be his future princess, strolling amidst a sea of blooming flowers.

The delicate hues of the petals seemed to pale in comparison to her radiant presence, she had the beauty parallel to that of a Greek goddess. With every step she took, her flowing gown mirrored the elegance of her movement and a gentle breeze played with the tendrils of her hair, adding to the aura of enchantment.

The instant Yunho laid eyes on the princess he was bound to marry, all previous arguments and objections he had harboured about the arranged marriage faded into oblivion, vanished entirely from his thoughts.

His jaw hung slack and he struggled to find words. His feet remained firmly rooted to the ground as he stared, momentarily transformed into a foolish, unprincely observer.

"You were saying, your highness?" Yeosang inquired, his tone tinged with sarcasm, his brow arched.

"Is that… her? The p-princess?" Yunho stammered, his ability to speak suddenly elusive. His advisor nodded, regarding the prince with an amused glint in his eye, "Yes, your highness, that is her. Beautiful, isn't she? It seems the rumours about her divine beauty were entirely accurate."

Indeed, she is.

The prince's breath caught in his throat as he watched her, his heart beating faster than usual.

Her every gesture seemed to be poetry in motion, as though the garden itself had come alive to pay homage to her beauty. He felt a sense of time slowing down, his world narrowing to encompass only her in that moment. And as the princess turned to catch a glimpse of him, their eyes finally met.

Flustered, Yunho blinks his eyes rapidly and clears his throat loudly.

Stunned by the charming smile she had sent his way, he gives the princess a curt nod out of courtesy before looking away quickly, embarrassed.

It probably wasn't anything new to the princess for people to gape at her the way he did. But he wasn't just anyone, he was the crown prince of Wonderland, goddammit.

Ah great, I've just made a complete fool of myself.

Gone were all the words of his carefully planned and well-rehearsed speech he had spent all night to come up with, fully prepared to have a whole debate with his parents today about why they should not go through with the plan.

Sensing Yeosang's judgemental gaze on him, he scoffs before waving the shorter male off.

"W-whatever, beauty isn't going to be enough to keep a marriage strong. She could be spoiled and haughty for all we know, and the last thing I need is a wife that's all looks and no brains."

The advisor scoffs, "Sounds to me like an excuse, my prince. You seem to be convincing yourself more than anyone else. The princess should be anything but spoiled and haughty if she is already here ready to meet you."

Yunho glares down at his oldest friend in irritation, he sometimes wished Yeosang could be less rational because the advisor was annoyingly correct with his statement.

A part of the prince wanted the princess to be on her worst behaviour, that would give him a good reason to not comply but if she continues on with her good girl act and wins everyone's favour, that would make him seem like the bad guy.

Or perhaps, he was.

Why was he so against this again?

Right, because she's a complete stranger. And not just any stranger, she had to be one all the way from Aurora too.

That was why he came to seek an audience with his parents. They'd be kidding themselves if they thought he'd be backing down so easily without a fight.

With his sights set on the grand doors to the throne room, the prince reminds himself of why he's come to this part of the palace. He proceeds to march forward, determined to talk his way out of the marriage no matter how breathtaking he finds the princess to be.

Yes, the princess was insanely gorgeous.

That was an undeniable fact and Yunho would have to be blind to think otherwise.

However, he genuinely believed that beauty alone amounted to very little, especially in marriage. This union was a lifelong commitment.

This was no fairytale.

Whoever it was that Yunho married, he had to spend the rest of his life with, so his future wife would have to possess a lot more qualities than simply being easy on the eyes.

Pull yourself together, Jung Yunho. She's just another beautiful face and you've seen plenty of those.

You see, Crown Prince Yunho, heir to the throne of Wonderland, has found himself entangled in the intricate web of politics when his parents arrange a marriage with the princess of the neighbouring kingdom, Aurora. Tensions have simmered between the two nations for years, and this alliance is seen as a way to bring peace to the region.

But there was just one major problem, Yunho was vehemently opposed to the arranged marriage.

He resents the idea of being bound to a stranger, especially from a rival nation. His preconceived notions about the princess lead him to believe she's merely a pawn in her own right, just as he feels he is in this political game.

Unfortunately for him, the meeting with his parents had pretty much gone the exact way he wished it hadn't. As Yeosang had predicted, each of his arguments was met with compelling responses from his parents, rendering him momentarily speechless.

Yunho accuses the princess of being spoiled but with his continuous stubbornness and adamance, he was beginning to look the part himself.

While he voiced concerns about potential issues arising from this union, such as constraints on personal freedom, emotional distress, compatibility problems, and the inevitable cultural and societal pressures, his parents remained unfazed.

They had anticipated their son's dissatisfaction when they initially revealed the arrangement and had been prepared for his complaints.

"Yunho-yah," The queen began, her voice gentle yet firm, "We understand your concerns about the arranged marriage. But you must also understand the broader implications of our decision."

The king leaned forward, his expression serious, "Our kingdom stands at a crossroads, my son. The tensions between our nation and Aurora have lingered for far too long. The alliance formed through this marriage could finally bring about a lasting peace."

The prince's brow furrowed as he folded his arms, a mix of frustration and reluctance in his eyes, "But father, how can I marry someone I've never met? Someone from a land with which we've had conflicts?"

His mother's gaze softened, "Yunho, we're not asking you to abandon your feelings or desires. We're asking you to consider the greater good. The princess is in the same situation, and she's willing to put aside her own reservations for the sake of her people. It's a sacrifice for both of you."

And there it was, he must look like an absolute asshole all thanks to her obedience. Yeosang would definitely agree, even his advisor was supportive of the marriage. The prince seems to be the only one against this.

"We've always taught you to put the needs of the kingdom before personal wishes. This is one of those times when our actions will shape the course of history. Your cooperation can be a bridge towards a more peaceful future."

His father added, eyes trained firmly on his son.

He needed Yunho to understand that this matter was not up for negotiation, the only reason they were still entertaining his tantrums was to hopefully talk some sense into him. After all, his compliance would make a huge difference and things could be so much easier.

Yunho sighed, his shoulders slumping, "I understand the reasons, mother, father. But how can I be expected to share my life with someone I know nothing about?"

The queen leaned forward, her expression filled with empathy, "Arranged marriages are not what they used to be, Yunho. You'll have the opportunity to get to know the princess, to find common ground, and perhaps even build a genuine connection."

She was right but for some reason, Yunho's brain refuses to see things that way.

There had to be alternative methods to form an alliance; why did he need to sacrifice his choice to love? As a royal, he was only permitted one marriage and now one of the most momentous decisions of his life was about to be dictated by the future of his kingdom.

He would have said those words out loud had it not been for the look in his father's eyes, the king was growing tired of this pointless talk.

As the prince's gaze shifted between his parents, a mixture of uncertainty played across his face. He knew their words held weight, that his compliance could influence the fate of their kingdom. With a sigh, he uncrossed his arms and met their eyes.

He sensed that further argument was futile. The arrangement would proceed whether he liked it or not, "I hear you, father, mother," He finally said, his tone resigned, "I'll meet the princess and try to see the bigger picture."

And by that, what he actually meant was that he would be keeping busy, looking for loopholes to escape this predicament.

It was an exhausting journey getting from Aurora to Wonderland by carriage but you didn't voice your discomfort because you knew it must have been so much harder for your guards and servants.

It hasn't been easy on you, learning of the sudden need for you to wed the prince of another nation. It had to be Wonderland too, of all kingdoms, the specific one that hadn't been on particularly good terms with Aurora for as long as you could remember.

The truth was that you had been prepared for this all your life.

Since childhood, your mother had instilled in you the belief that your primary duty, as a princess, was to marry for political reasons someday. As much as you had dreaded it, you had always known that this day would arrive sooner or later.

What truly caught you off guard, however, was the fact that you were arranged to marry the future king of Wonderland, not Utopia. This was partly because you had always assumed you'd marry Prince San of Utopia, a kingdom with strong ties to your parents.

You and San had practically grown up side by side, he was a good friend of yours and you wouldn't have minded spending your life with him. He was easily one of the most gentle and caring men you've met, he would have made a fine husband.

While you didn't harbour any personal grievances against Prince Yunho or Wonderland, you had heard of his discontent with the arrangement, which naturally left you feeling disheartened.

It wasn't like you were ecstatic about this either but you understood that it was an integral part of your role as a royal, no?

Due to the prince's resistance, his parents had requested your arrival a bit earlier than initially planned, hoping to give him time to warm up to you before both kingdoms made the official announcement regarding your alliance to the public.

Fortunately for you, the king and queen of Wonderland had warmly received you upon your arrival and offered a brief tour of the palace's central court. They made every effort to make you feel welcome before escorting you to your chambers.

Unfortunately for you, the prince was nowhere to be seen. You couldn't help but have mixed feelings about his nonattendance, especially since he was the primary reason for and the most significant aspect of your visit.

But you supposed that may have been too much to ask of him, given his well-known opposition to this marriage.

Here you were, finally settling into the grand bed chambers designated for you. You sat in contemplative silence by the ornate vanity while your handmaiden, Yeri, attentively touched up your appearance.

"What is the matter, my princess? Are you feeling okay?"

Once she was done brushing your hair, you moved to pat her hand appreciatively, "I'm fine, Yeri, really. Just... trying to adapt to the new environment. It's quite different here compared to home, isn't it?"

"If you're trying to say it's more depressing here, then yes, I agree with you," You laughed quietly, attempting to hush her with an alarmed expression, "Oh my god, keep it down, you fearless woman! If anyone hears you, we're dead," She snickers, nodding quickly, "Yes, yes, your highness. I was just playing with you, at least it finally got you to smile again."

Scrunching your face up at her playfully, your heart warmed at how sweet it was of her to ensure you were alright.

"You're the best, Yeri. I really can't do this without you, so please be on your best behaviour," You shook your head when she grinned cheekily, "Now where's the fun in that?" She lifted her hands to surrender when you glared at her, unamused, "Okay, okay, sheesh."

"Go and get some rest, Yeri. You must be tired, tell the rest to join you too. I'll send Mingi for you if I need anything," She stood with her hands on her hips and let out a huff, "I know you won't, you're too kind for your own good. If I catch you trying to do anything by yourself, I'm never leaving your side again."

Before you could offer any protest, she gestured across her lips, mimicking a zipper, "I won't say this again, my princess. Let the servants do their jobs. We're not in Aurora anymore, you can't let these foreigners think you're weak or easy, do you understand?"

She was right, you hadn't thought of that at all.

Back at home, you had treated all the royal staff like friends and often chose to handle tasks yourself to avoid inconveniencing them, even when it was their responsibility. But you were no longer in Aurora, and your actions in Wonderland could potentially be mistaken as weakness or gullibility.

Yeri did not leave you until she made you pinky promise her.

You softened, hugging her before she went to catch up on some much-needed rest. Thanks to your cheerful and friendly disposition, all members of your staff have developed a deep fondness for you. Yeri, in particular, always had your best interests at heart.

Deciding it was probably best to familiarise yourself with the layout of the palace, you began wandering around with your personal guard, Mingi, following closely behind. You would have sent him to his chambers too, had he not frowned warningly at you.

He didn't have to say the words out loud, all it took was one look for you to understand his 'don't you even dare' loud and clear.

Thankful for and comforted by Mingi's tall frame towering over yours protectively from behind, you took your time sauntering about. You noted the difference between the interior at home and here; while the colours back at home were brighter, most of the decor in Wonderland leaned towards the darker side.

Your lips curved upward when you happened upon the royal garden just outside. The garden held a special place in your heart; it was your sanctuary in Aurora. There, you'd lose yourself in books, indulge in painting or simply unwind on days when you have no princess etiquette lessons.

Bounding toward it with excitement, you instructed Mingi to wait for you by the garden gates while you took a stroll by yourself. Lost in your own world, your attention had been fully captured by the new flowers you hadn't seen back in Aurora.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain pair of eyes had remained trained on your frame for quite some time now.

It was only when you finally sensed this invisible gaze that you turned and found yourself locking eyes with a strikingly tall and handsome man. As was your instinctual reaction, you greeted him with a warm smile, even if you didn't know who he was.

You resisted the urge to giggle at his expression which was similar to that of a deer caught in headlights as he nodded once politely at you before turning away almost instantly.

But before you could watch on any longer, Mingi had come to escort you back to your chambers. Exploration time was over, you had to get ready for dinner with the king and queen soon.

And all the way back, you couldn't get your mind off the man you had seen earlier.

That tall and handsome man, you later learned, was your future husband, Crown Prince Yunho of Wonderland.

On your second day here, you had the pleasure of sharing a light meal with him. Perhaps it was your jitters or perhaps it was the knowledge of his displeasure with the arrangement, you half-expected him to be rude or mean.

To your complete surprise, he had been more civil and polite than you had imagined. However, it was quite apparent to you that he had made a constant effort to keep you at arm's length.

Even after a week of your presence in the palace, he remained equally reserved.

As suggested by his parents, you have been sharing meals together more often in order to get to know one another better. Weirdly though, the questions exchanged between you two during conversations remained surface level and he refused to dive any deeper beyond simple pleasantries.

It was almost impossible to get close to him.

In a way, it was frustrating. You couldn't quite put your finger on it but you almost wished he would express his displeasure or frustration openly. His aloof behaviour, on the other hand, made you feel unimportant and irrelevant.

Gazing miserably up at the stars littered across the night sky by your balcony, you don't notice Yeri coming up to you until you feel her wrap a shawl over your exposed shoulders.

"You alright, your highness? Mingi mentioned you looking particularly upset these days. I thought things were going well with the prince?"

You sighed, pursing your lips, "I don't know, Yeri. I suppose that's how it looks to others from the outside but..." Your heart clenched, and you wondered to yourself if this was how life was going to be like married to Yunho.

"Even when he's right in front of me, he still feels so far away," Laughing humourlessly to yourself, you rubbed your hands tiredly over your eyes, "Does that even make any sense?"

Yeri runs her hands comfortingly up and down your arms, "Wow, so he's going to be that kind of husband, huh. I'm so sorry, your highness. You, of all people, don't deserve this kind of treatment, especially from the man who is supposed to be your husband."

You shook your head to ease her worries, "I'll be fine. Maybe he'll warm up to me eventually, hm? Just the way you did," She smiled half-heartedly at you, "Gee, for your sake, I sure hope so."

While you were caught up in your own feelings of despair, Yunho dedicated the majority of his time to the library, fervently seeking an alternative method for forming the alliance, anything except marriage. He refused to believe that this was the only way to do so, even when Yeosang had told him countless times that his efforts would be fruitless.

As his advisor had reiterated over and over, even if he did find another way, nothing could be stronger than an alliance formed through marriage. But Yunho would like to argue that his adamance might be stronger, though he knows he would be shot down mercilessly by his friend with actual logic.

In frustration, he slammed yet another book shut, running his hand through his hair and groaning loudly without bothering to keep his voice down. Nobody in the library would dare ask him to quiet down anyway, he was the crown prince of the nation.

Come on, there has to be another way.

Without wasting another moment, he moved on to the next book. He couldn't afford to waste any more time. Every passing day brought him closer to the solidifying of this arrangement.

Despite his lack of success in finding a solution, he was rather pleased with how he had handled you. As he had expected, you appeared to be nothing more than a pawn, sent here to be manipulated by your parents.

In the few conversations he had with you, you seemed somewhat one-dimensional, repeatedly expressing your contentment with fulfilling your duties as a princess for the betterment of your kingdom. No doubt just reciting words handed to you in a carefully crafted script, you appeared to lack personality whatsoever.

Yunho knew he was right about you from the beginning, you were all looks and not much else.

Or so he thought.

The prince had been quick to judge without bothering to get to know you any better. He couldn't have possibly been able to get a feel of your character when he continuously kept you at a distance.

It wasn't until he was forced to spend time with you as you navigate several formal events and ceremonies meant to showcase your unity, that he began to see you in a new light. You were not the stoic and passive figure he had imagined.

You revealed yourself to be an incredibly articulate and knowledgeable speaker, both on and off the stage. From delivering formal speeches to engaging in discussions with important figures of Wonderland, he was thoroughly impressed by your depth of knowledge and your ability to hold conversations on topics that sometimes even challenged him as the crown prince.

Not only that, he later saw how intelligent and compassionate you truly were but most importantly, how you shared his concerns about the forced arrangement.

It was within the confines of the royal garden that you and Yunho engaged in a heartfelt conversation, away from any prying eyes.

Your sigh was soft, your gaze fixed on the distant horizon, "Thanks for agreeing to see me, Yunho. There's something I feel I must address, I cannot go on like this for much longer." Concern filled the prince's eyes when he detected the exhaustion in your tone.

"You know, I'm not an idiot. I know what you've been doing this whole time, trying to keep me at a distance. I'm well aware of your feelings about this arrangement."

Yunho hung his head in shame, realising that he had underestimated you, believing you wouldn't see through his actions.

"I just... I need you to understand that it hasn't exactly been easy for me either. I'm not a fan of all this, to be quite honest with you. You don't think I want to marry for love too? At this point, I've just accepted that it would be a dream never to come true. Life as royalty comes with sacrifices and this is only one of many, Yunho."

The prince turns to face you, his voice was sincere, "Gosh, I honestly didn't know. All this while, I've thought only about myself. I... I'm sorry for the way I've acted, princess. I have no excuses for that."

Well, that was a surprise.

You didn't think you'd hear him apologise to you. So sincerely too.

"Thank you for the apology, it means a lot," He nodded but seemed like there was more he wanted to say, "Yunho, is there something else you wish to say?"

The prince hesitates, "It's just... You sounded like you're being weighed down by a lot. I know our kingdoms haven't been on the best of terms but, is everything okay in Aurora?"

You took a moment before meeting his eyes, your gaze holding a blend of determination and vulnerability, "My kingdom, Aurora, it's... it's in a delicate state. The tensions between our kingdom and Wonderland have taken a toll on our people. There have been losses, conflicts that have stretched on for too long."

Yunho nodded slowly, empathy evident in his features, "I know that our kingdoms have had their differences. But you've chosen to embrace this alliance, despite the challenges it presents."

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you continued, "I've seen the suffering, Yunho. I've seen families torn apart by the feuds between our lands. I've felt the weight of the responsibility that rests on my shoulders. This marriage, as much as I've also hated the concept, offers a chance for healing. It's a way to bring peace to our people, to ensure a better future."

Yunho studied you, his admiration growing with every word you spoke, "Princess, I think that your willingness to prioritise your people's well-being over personal desires is truly commendable."

A faint smile touched your lips, "Thank you, I've wrestled with it and struggled against the confines of tradition. But I've come to realise that sometimes, as leaders, we must put aside our own wishes for the greater good."

That's just great, the prince has never felt more ashamed of himself. He must seem like a brat compared to you, he now fully understands why you were so loved by the people around you.

If only he had opened his eyes to this side of you sooner. There was no one to blame for this but himself, he was filled with immense guilt and regrets for the way he had treated you before.

He reached out hesitantly before gently placing a hand on yours, "Your strength and dedication are inspiring, princess. To choose the path that challenges your heart for the sake of your people speaks volumes about your character. I'm sorry for misjudging you before."

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the weight of your shared responsibilities seemed to lessen, "Let bygones be bygones, Yunho. I hope that even if we cannot feel love for one another, you'll still be able to find a friend in me."

Yunho squeezed your hand gently, "Likewise, I hope you'll be able to do the same with me."

As you spend more time together, Yunho witnesses your genuine commitment to bridging the gap between your nations.

He discovers your efforts to learn about Wonderland's culture and language, your sincere desire to foster understanding and your determination to defy your own family's pressure for the sake of your people.

One day in the library, he stumbled upon you buried under piles of history books, dictionaries and many more Wonderland-related materials. He was surprised to learn from the royal librarian that you had been visiting frequently for the past few days.

Seeing you so engrossed in your studies, he decided not to distract you and instead settled at the table across from yours. He occasionally stole glances at you while he went about his own tasks.

You didn't notice the prince's presence until hours later when you finished one book. Stretching your limbs, you let out an unintentional moan before finally looking up, only to find Yunho staring at you, clearly amused.

A loud yelp escaped your lips ungracefully upon seeing him, and the librarian shot you a warning glare while you repeatedly bowed your head apologetically.

You hid your face in your palms, overcome with embarrassment, as the prince snickered cheekily. Now that he had your attention, he moved to your table and sat down in front of you.

"That surprised to see me, princess? I can't believe you didn't notice me at all, I've been here for hours."

Your jaw dropped, "Really? Gosh, I didn't realise."

He didn't dare say it out loud but Yunho found you so incredibly adorable in that moment, his heart skipping a beat at your natural and genuine reactions. He felt so privileged to have been able to see this candid side of you, it was so fresh and unlike the whole princess facade that you were always forced to put on in front of others.

After he ordered a nearby servant to prepare you both some light snacks and tea, you engaged in a relaxed conversation.

"Now we all know why I'm here but what are you doing here, Yunho? Shouldn't you be kept busy fulfilling your princely duties?" He sighs, pulling out the books he's been frantically looking through to show you. You furrowed your brows at the sheer amount of materials related to strategic alliances, historical governing regulations and such, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

There was a brief pause when the servant returned with the snacks Yunho had requested. He waited until you were alone before he continued.

"To be completely honest, from the moment you arrived here, I've been searching for ways for Wonderland and Aurora to form an alliance without marriage. Initially, it was for my personal reasons, but after speaking with you and realising how much you disliked this arrangement, I knew I had to keep looking—for both our sakes."

You stared at him, astonished, "You're saying that you're doing this for me too?"

He nods, "Yes, especially after hearing you speak of the struggles of your people, I knew then that this alliance must be formed for the greater good. But you also spoke so bitterly about not being able to marry for love, it pained me to hear you say that it would only be a dream never to come true."

The sincerity in his tone was enough to touch your heart, you hadn't expected him to take your words this seriously.

"So, I figured we must find another way to go about this, in order to secure peace between our kingdoms as well as our right to marry someone of our own choice."

As grateful as you were for his efforts, you didn't want to cling to false hope, as the ideal outcome he aimed for seemed far-fetched. Seeing him conduct this research alone, you could tell that his advisor likely considered it impossible and had given up trying to reason with the prince.

You smiled appreciatively at him, patting a hand gently over his.

"That's very sweet of you, Yunho, to be so considerate, from worrying about the state of my nation to my happiness. You have no idea how much this all means to me. But you do understand that it's a scenario highly unlikely to come to fruition, yes?"

Guilt washed over you when you saw his face slightly fall due to your words.

"Yeah, I'm aware, but I won't give up. We'll never truly know if we don't try, am I right?" To lift the mood and avoid making you feel bad, he wiggled his eyebrows playfully, not missing the way his heart skipped a beat when you let out a small giggle.

This has been happening way too frequently lately.

But Yunho reassured himself that he was just happy to have made a new friend, nothing more and nothing less.

He continued to tell himself that, even when all he could think about was your beautiful smile and cute laugh, feeling determined to do whatever it took to keep that smile on your face.

Despite his initial resistance, Yunho and the princess slowly begin to discover common ground. You find yourselves sharing your hopes, fears and dreams, gradually forming a connection that transcends your initial animosity.

"You sure seem a lot happier these days, I assume things are going well with the princess?"

Yeosang wonders out loud, spotting that dreamy look on the prince's face again, he's been seeing it more often lately.

He hoped this change in demeanour indicated Yunho's willingness to comply, as he was growing weary of the prince's stubbornness. The advisor feels he was about to age another ten years if he had to deal with any more of that.

However, to Yeosang's dismay, Yunho's response was not what he wanted to hear, "If by things going well, you mean us finally becoming friends, then yes. But I'm telling you, I haven't given up trying to find that loophole."

The advisor could feel his blood pressure rising; he knew the king would not be pleased with this response. Unbeknownst to Yunho, his parents had instructed Yeosang to provide daily progress reports on his relationship with the princess.

Yeosang had hoped that the improved rapport between the prince and the princess would finally allow him to deliver some positive news to the king and queen. These reports were also shared with the princess' parents in Aurora, as both sets of parents eagerly awaited the day when Yunho would agree to the arranged marriage.

As much as they were rulers of their kingdoms, they were also parents to their children.

While your parents bore the weighty responsibility for the welfare of your kingdom and its people, they fervently hoped to spare you from an utterly loveless marriage that could subject you to potential mistreatment from an apathetic spouse.

Their genuine desire rested on the Prince of Wonderland's acceptance of you, with the hope that affection would develop over time, all while forging a harmonious bond between your respective realms. You were, after all, their only daughter and they weren't entirely heartless.

Beneath their regal exteriors was compassion for you.

If worse comes to worst, they were prepared to alter their strategies and seek a more suitable match for you.

The truth was that you were originally pledged to wed Prince San of Utopia, a strategic move aimed at bolstering the economy, consolidating authority and expanding your territorial holdings. If it weren't for the impending conflict between Wonderland and Aurora, your union with San might have already taken place.

Back then, your parents deemed it less advantageous for Aurora to merely grow stronger through an alliance with Utopia, knowing that it would eventually still culminate in a costly war with Wonderland. It was during this pivotal moment that their priorities shifted, with the king and queen of Aurora deciding that averting war held more importance.

Yet, if Prince Yunho of Wonderland remained obstinate in his refusal to cooperate, they were prepared to consider risking war if it meant securing a more promising marriage prospect for their daughter.

With Utopia's support, Aurora could potentially secure victory against Wonderland without undue hardship.

This, ultimately, constituted your parents' contingency plan.

Though they hoped it would never have to come down to that.

As time passes, Yunho and you can no longer deny the growing attraction between you.

You secretly spend more time together, leading to many heartfelt conversations and shared experiences that further strengthen the bond between you.

Neither of you had been entirely sure of your feelings for each other until one particular evening when you decided to sneak out to town.

Yunho was determined to show you how vibrant and exciting life could be in Wonderland, especially after you had been making endless jokes about his kingdom being gloomy and depressing.

Dressed in the simplest clothing he could find in his wardrobe, he patiently awaited your arrival by the secret passage leading to the town. Yunho had discovered this hidden path during his teenage years, with the assistance of a younger and more rebellious Yeosang.

Embarrassingly enough, he found himself momentarily frozen when he first saw you in casual attire.

You had to bring him back to reality by waving your hands in front of his face, grinning when you noticed the faint blush on his cheeks.

For Yunho, it was incredibly difficult to take his eyes off you that night. His natural protectiveness over you had been triggered by the absence of your guard, Mingi. To his dismay, he wasn't the only one who had his eyes on you. Your beauty was just a natural magnet to all beings around you, attracting looks from almost everyone passing by.

Even in a simple cream-coloured gown, likely borrowed from one of your maids, Yunho couldn't help but wonder how you managed to radiate such elegance and charm.

However, Yunho was oblivious to the fact that you were equally captivated by his appearance. It was your first time seeing him dressed so casually and you were awestruck by how attractive he looked. You couldn't help but wonder if he was aware of the effect he had.

As you strolled through the night market, side by side, there had been many heart-fluttering moments between you all throughout the night.

Upon your arrival, you stumbled upon a street performer whose humorous antics made you both burst into uncontrollable laughter. You later dared each other to try exotic street foods like spicy skewers and strange-looking desserts. Watching each other's reactions as you savoured these new flavours brought moments of playful intimacy.

A street musician catches your attention when he suddenly begins playing a sweet, melodic tune on his guitar. Yunho, with a smile, pulled you into a spontaneous dance under the moonlight, leaving your heart racing. It felt different from all the times you'd danced together during the many formal events and ceremonies.

With your arms circled around his neck and his hand firmly on your waist, he pulls you impossibly close. Your heart pounds twice as fast as your trembling eyes meet his in a deep gaze, you wonder if he felt what you felt too.

But it wasn't until his gaze fell upon your lips that your breath hitched. His eyes were unreadable, he seemed to have a million thoughts going through his mind before he looked back into your eyes, smiling assuringly at you.

Feeling flustered, you nestled your head against the space between his neck and shoulder, seeking refuge from his intense gaze. Yunho's heart melted and he gently rested his cheek against the side of your head.

Deep beneath your hearts, you'd both wished for time to remain frozen and for this moment to last forever.

Neither you nor Yunho bothered to correct the musician when he called you a lovely pair of newlyweds. Instead, you both exchanged shy smiles with each other before gracefully sauntering away.

As the night went on, you found yourselves at a candle-lit vendor stall, choosing handcrafted candles together. The vendor's stories about the meaning behind each candle's design further deepened your connection.

Next, you stumbled upon an antique shop tucked away in a corner. As you explored the treasures within, you exchanged stories of your past, revealing vulnerable moments and secrets, which drew you closer.

Nearing the end of your tour, you found a secluded bench to rest before returning to the palace. The night sky above was clear and you both paused to gaze at the stars. The moment felt magical, it was almost as if the universe itself was conspiring to bring you together.

"So, is Wonderland still as 'gloomy and depressing' as you'd previously described it to be?" The prince questioned cheekily, making dramatic air quotes as you laughed, "Fine, guess I was wrong about that. It's pretty amazing, I suppose."

It was getting late and Yunho knew he had to take you back soon, no matter how reluctant he was to do so.

In an attempt to prolong your little date by a bit more, he offered to buy you a pack of those candied fruits he recalled you saying you liked to enjoy together before leaving.

"Wait for me, I'll be back real quick."

You watched endearingly as the prince squeezed his way through the crowd to get to the dessert stall where you'd stopped by earlier. This Yunho was so different from the one you had first met, he was making it hard for you not to catch any feelings.

Lost in your own thoughts, you failed to notice a drunkard approaching you from a dimly lit nearby alley.

Startled, you emitted a gasp of surprise as he harshly gripped your arm and abruptly yanked you from your seat, "Wait a moment, I know you. Aren't you that darn princess from Aurora?" His words struck you like a thunderclap, and his narrowing eyes bore into you ominously.

How could he have possibly recognised me?

"S-sir, I think you've been mistaken. I'm no princess, just a commoner like you," You couldn't help but recoil at the sight of his discoloured teeth as he clenched them menacingly, "Don't you dare deceive me, girl! Your accent betrays you; I know you're not from around here!"

With wide, frightened eyes, you struggled desperately to free yourself from his rough grasp, which was sure to leave a bruise on your wrists, "N-no, please!"

There were no words to capture the terror coursing through you as he attempted to drag you into the alley from which he had emerged, "You'll pay for what your people have done to me! Thanks to you Aurora scum, I've lost my family!"

You looked around frantically in search of Yunho, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you cried out his name desperately for help.

"Shut up, bitch. How dare you taint the name of my prince with that filthy mouth of yours." The man growls, your heart stopping as he bends down to pick up a shard of shattered beer glass from the ground.

Just as he swung the shard toward you, a tall figure leapt between you and the man, wrapping you tightly in his arms and instantly turning you away to shield you from the attack. He took the blow on your behalf, a sizable gash now marring his back.

The drunkard froze in place, realising the injury he had inflicted upon his own prince, "Oh, my prince! I had not intended to harm you; it was meant for her-"

Turning his head to direct a scathing glare at the man, Yunho sneered, "How audacious of you to attempt an assault on royalty. Do you realise that she is to become your future princess?" The man fell to his knees, begging for forgiveness, "Leave my sight at once. You will not escape so lightly should you ever attempt such a thing again."

Yunho shifted his focus back to you once the drunkard had hastily departed, looking you over for any signs of injury.

Once assured of your well-being, he pulled you tight into his embrace. He couldn't get over the way his heart lurched in his chest at the sight of you being manhandled by the drunk homeless man.

Tears flowed down your cheeks as the realisation dawned that the prince had indeed heard your desperate pleas for help. You found yourself sobbing, torn between profound relief and a gnawing sense of guilt.

You were relieved, beyond words, that he had come to your rescue. Yet, the guilt weighed heavily on your heart, knowing that you were the reason he had been hurt. Swiftly, you pulled away from him, turning him around to inspect his injury. To your astonishment, your eyes widened in shock.

"We must return immediately! You need medical attention, Yunho!" You exclaimed urgently.

Not wanting to further distress you, Yunho nodded in agreement. Together, you made your way back to the palace. Along the journey, he handed you the crumpled bag of candied fruits he had kept in his pocket this whole time.

"Here, please stop crying. I like it better when you smile." He said, his lips curving into a fond chuckle. Your response was to cry even harder at his touching gesture.

"I'm sorry for leaving you behind," Yunho admitted with a sigh, "I should have taken you with me," Your brow furrowed in confusion, "Why should you be sorry? You saved me, Yunho! And now, you're injured because of me."

With a tender sigh, he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple as the palace gates drew nearer.

This was indeed an unforgettable night.

Yeri and Mingi were utterly startled when they learned about your recent adventure with the prince, an escapade that had placed you perilously close to harm's way. In fact, the entire royal staff shared their incredulity. As a result, security measures around the palace grounds had been heightened significantly to prevent any recurrence of such incidents.

Nevertheless, the prince and the princess seemed to have drawn closer in the wake of these events. You faithfully visited Yunho daily to monitor his recovery and ensure he received the necessary rest.

The recent days had been remarkably peaceful, and judging from the interactions between the two, there was a palpable sense of optimism among those who observed them. It seemed that perhaps, at long last, the prince might come to terms with the arranged marriage with the princess.

Unfortunately for you all, the peace only lasted so long.

One day, as you spent time with Yunho in his garden, Yeosang abruptly burst in, his breathless urgency disrupting the tranquil atmosphere. He conveyed the news that you had never imagined could transpire.

"We're under attack, and by 'we,' I mean both Wonderland and Aurora," He gasped out, causing you to leap from your seat in shock, "What- by who?" You demanded, your voice quaking.

The advisor swallowed hard before responding, "It's Utopia. We suspect they are displeased with Aurora for terminating their alliance to form a new one with us instead."

Utopia, long thought to be peaceful, had suddenly launched a surprise attack on both you and Yunho's kingdoms. For generations, the neighbouring kingdom of Utopia had been a beacon of peace and tranquillity on the horizon.

But on this fateful morning, a shockwave of dread rippled through both Wonderland and Aurora as the tranquil facade of Utopia shattered.

You sank back into your chair, a sense of hopelessness washing over you as you gazed up at Yeosang, "Is there any chance I could have a conversation with Prince San? We've shared a close bond since childhood. If I could just speak with him, perhaps we could find a resolution without resorting to further violence."

Detecting the despair in your voice, Yunho offered a comforting gesture by gently covering your hand with his own. It was a silent reassurance that you were not alone in this ordeal, that he would stand by your side throughout the entire journey.

The advisor nodded in response, his tone assuring, "I'll do my best to arrange it. It shouldn't be too difficult if he's willing to meet with you."

You marvelled at Yeosang's ability to work swiftly, and soon enough, you found yourself granted a brief audience with San. Despite your insistence on meeting him alone, Yunho vehemently protested, vowing never to allow you to do something so dangerous on your own.

And so, it was how you and Yunho came to be seated across from Prince San of Utopia, a figure from your childhood and the person who should have been your betrothed by now.

As expected, his expression brimmed with heartfelt apologies.

San retained the gentleness and caring nature you had known throughout your shared history. He candidly admitted that this was all orchestrated by his parents, emphasising his own reluctance and powerlessness to halt their plans.

"Believe me, I tried everything within my ability to dissuade them from this reckless course of action. However, my father felt deeply betrayed by your parents for abruptly breaking our long-standing alliance."

San rubs his neck sheepishly, "You understand how eagerly my parents had anticipated our union. Your sudden change of heart and the decision to arrange a marriage with the Prince of Wonderland, of all people, appeared to our people as if you were abandoning your friends to align with the enemy."

Your face fell as you comprehended the unfavourable perception that had taken hold among the people of Utopia. In hindsight, you realised it was difficult to blame them for their anger.

"But, of course, this doesn't excuse my father's decision to attack your kingdoms." San continued earnestly.

"I stand firmly against this aggression, just as you do. However, my position as the prince of Utopia places me in a precarious situation. I cannot betray my own nation to support you directly. What I can pledge is my commitment to not interfere in any way. I won't participate in this conflict, that much I can assure you."

With San's explanations, you gained a clearer understanding of the circumstances that led to the current crisis.

While Yunho watched on, harbouring a trace of jealousy, you bid farewell to the Utopian prince with a tight embrace. San whispered kind words in your ear before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, offering his good wishes and luck for the challenging road ahead.

Armed with this newfound knowledge, you promptly corresponded with your parents in Aurora to notify them of the latest developments.

Despite your parents' earnest attempts to de-escalate the situation through diplomatic negotiations with the Utopian rulers, it became evident that quelling their anger was no simple task. It appeared that the only viable path forward was to prepare for the impending conflict, as the prospect of war loomed inevitably.

The unexpected and brutal surprise attack launched by Utopia's forces leaves the people of Wonderland and Aurora reeling in disbelief. The peace they had cherished for so long was now under siege and their very survival hung in the balance.

Your kingdoms, though distinct in culture and tradition, were suddenly united by a common enemy that threatened to engulf you in an unending nightmare. Forced into an alliance born out of dire necessity, the people of Wonderland and Aurora put aside their prior differences and prejudices.

In the midst of the chaos and devastation, you and Yunho found yourselves facing an unthinkable reality.

You and the prince were gathered in the meeting chamber where you were scheduled to meet not only with the king but also with some of Wonderland's most influential figures, including generals and other military leaders, to discuss war strategies.

As you waited for the meeting to commence, an overwhelming sense of guilt gnawed at you, and you felt the need to seize the moment and extend an apology to the prince.

"I'm truly sorry, Yunho. If it weren't for our decisions, this devastating war wouldn't have befallen Wonderland either. Now you're embroiled in this conflict as well." You confessed with remorse.

Yunho shook his head, a faint smile gracing his lips as he gently tilted your chin upward, causing you to meet his gaze.

"You do realise that war would have inevitably reached Wonderland regardless, yes?" He replied, his words carrying a weight of resignation, "The difference lies in whether it's a war with Aurora or Utopia. And you know what? I'd much prefer to stand beside you in this fight. So, thank you for coming to me."

Your heart leapt at his words which felt almost like a confession.

The prince's unwavering eyes remained fixed on yours and just as he leaned in closer, his nose brushed against yours, Mingi loudly cleared his throat, snapping you out of your reverie and interrupting the delicate moment.

Yunho directed a disapproving glare at your guard but soon grasped the reason behind his actions, as the arrival of other attendees signalled the commencement of the meeting.

Thankfully, everyone else had been too distracted by the gravity of the situation to notice your slightly flustered state.

As you and the prince work together to assess the scale of the threat and develop a strategic response, the bond between you grows even stronger than it already is. It was a connection forged not only by your shared responsibility to protect your people but also by the vulnerability and uncertainty of the situation you found yourselves in.

Through this, you discovered that your strengths complemented each other beautifully. Yunho's tactical brilliance and leadership skills blended seamlessly with your sharp intellect and diplomatic finesse.

Through long nights of planning and strategising, you began to trust and rely on each other implicitly.

In the dimly lit courtyard, the air was heavy with anticipation and worry. Prince Yunho of Wonderland stood resolute, clad in his regal armour, his sword gleaming at his side.

Beside him, your eyes brimmed with concern about the inevitable separation.

During your many discussions, you'd insisted on going to war by his side but he had protested and convinced everyone that it would be wiser to keep you in the palace as backup. Deep down, you know it was merely a tactic to keep you safe.

Yunho gazed into your eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

"Remember," He began softly, "I promised to return safely," His voice was unwavering, filled with conviction, "I hope you understand it's crucial that you remain here in the palace, as a beacon of strength and hope for our people. You'll be our guiding light."

You nodded, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Yunho continued, his voice tender and persuasive, "Staying here is the right choice, my princess. You will provide the vital support we need from within these walls. Trust in my determination. I'll do everything in my power to ensure our victory."

As you reluctantly released each other's hands, Yunho planted a tender kiss on your forehead, a final gesture of reassurance.

With unwavering resolve, he turned to depart, leaving behind the woman he now knows he cherished, fully determined to fulfil his promise and return to your side.

And since the day he left to fight the war that your kingdom caused, your days had been marked by waiting, your heart a constant blend of hope and fear. You paced the palace corridors, restless but steadfast, watching the horizon for any sign of Yunho's return.

As time crawled by, whispers of the war's progress reached your ears. Each tidbit of news was a double-edged sword, carrying both relief and anxiety. You clung to the words of those who assured you of Yunho's valour and the strength of your armies.

Then, one fateful day, a messenger arrived, breathless and dishevelled. He bore news of victory, but it came at a price. Your heart raced as you learned that Yunho had been injured in the final battle.

Despite the fear that clenched your heart, there was a glimmer of hope. The prince was on his way back to the palace, victorious yet wounded. You could hardly contain your emotions—relief, worry and an overwhelming desire to see him safe and sound.

With bated breath and tears of both joy and anxiety in your eyes, you readied yourself to welcome the prince home, ready to tend to his wounds, grateful that he was coming back to you.

As Yunho stirred from his week-long coma, he couldn't have been more elated to find you as the first sight that greeted his awakening. You were perched on your elbows by his bedside, fast asleep with tear-stained cheeks.

The sight of you tugged at his heartstrings, a profound realisation washing over him. He knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, that waking up to you each day was what he yearned for.

Gently placing a hand on your cheek to tenderly wipe away your tears, he took care not to disturb your slumber. He breathed a contented sigh as you instinctively nestled into his touch in your sleep.

Gosh, I could watch her like this forever.

But of course, the peace was short-lived like always. Just as Yeosang entered and spotted him awake, the serene moment vanished with the advisor's enthusiastic shout, "He's awake!" echoing down the corridor to summon the attention of the healers.

Yunho silently cursed when the sound roused you from your sleep.

You sat up abruptly, realisation dawning as you discovered he was finally conscious, "Oh my god, Yunho!" You threw your arms around his neck and enveloped him in a tight embrace. Returning your embrace with equal fervour, he buried his face against your shoulder, hearing your whispered words, "It's over, it's finally over."

Although he understood that you were referring to the end of the war with Utopia, he seized the moment to confess his feelings for you.

"No, it's not over yet," You pulled away, a look of confusion crossing your face, "What do you mean it's not over? We won the war, didn't we?"

He smiled, his fingers caressing your face tenderly.

"It's not over until you tell me if you're willing to marry me. If you haven't already noticed, I love you, princess. I can't pinpoint when it all began, but after all the time we've spent together and all the trials we've faced, I only know that I can't bear to spend another day without you by my side. Throughout that war, the one thing that kept me going was the thought of returning to you and asking you myself; Will you marry me?"

At long last, Yunho admits to himself and you that he's fallen in love with you. Lucky for him, you felt exactly the same.

You smiled tearfully back at him, "I thought you'd never ask, Yunho. I love you too, my prince. And the answer is yes, I will marry you." Putting a hand up to stop the healers and Yeosang from entering, he wasted no time pressing his lips firmly against yours in a passionate and emotional kiss.

Finally.

Not wanting to cockblock the pair any further, the servants scurried to pull the doors to the prince's bed chambers closed to give the two some privacy for the time being.

Now, all that's left for the prince to do is man up and speak to his parents about this.

In the opulent royal chamber of the palace, Prince Yunho, his demeanour a mix of determination and vulnerability, stood before his parents. You had initially offered to go with him but he had refused, telling you that this was something he had to do on his own.

With a steady voice and unwavering eyes, he expressed his heartfelt desire.

"Mother, father," He began, "I wish to marry the Princess of Aurora now, without delay." His words carried a depth of conviction that resonated through the room.

His parents, the king and queen of Wonderland, exchanged knowing glances. A warm, teasing smile crept onto their faces as they responded to their son's heartfelt request.

"Well, well," The queen quipped with a playful glint in her eye, "It seems our prince has finally surrendered to the inevitability of an arranged marriage."

The king chuckled in agreement, his tone light yet affectionate, "Indeed, my son. It's about time you acknowledged the wisdom of our arrangements."

Yunho, while blushing slightly at their playful teasing, nodded with a genuine smile.

His parents' gentle ribbing was a testament to their shared understanding and affectionate bond. It marked the beginning of a new chapter in his life—one filled with the promise of love, unity and a bright future with the princess he had come to cherish.

Meanwhile, back in Aurora, your parents brimmed with joy upon receiving the news. They got to work immediately with the wedding arrangements.

Swiftly, an official announcement about the union of the Prince of Wonderland and the Princess of Aurora was made to the people of both nations.

In the wake of the collective struggle against Utopia, the people had found a way to set aside their differences and grievances.

Together, they rejoiced in their newfound unity, celebrating not only the alliance between the two kingdoms but also their triumphant victory over Utopia. The past was relegated to history and a promising future beckoned, marked by cooperation, harmony and shared aspirations.

"Congratulations, my dear princess," Yeri grinned as she took a step back, admiring her handiwork. Your hair and makeup were flawless, "Thank you, Yeri, for standing by my side through it all," You expressed your gratitude, "I hope you've grown accustomed to Wonderland because we'll be here for the long haul."

Yeri chuckled, "Oh, princess, I didn't come here with the expectation of returning to Aurora. I suppose deep down, I knew this is where you truly belong—right by Prince Yunho's side."

A delicate blush warmed your cheeks at the mention of your soon-to-be husband.

Yeri regarded you with affection, her gaze filled with sincerity, "You look so genuinely happy these days, princess. That's all I've ever wished for you—happiness. Promise me you'll keep this joy alive for a long time."

You nodded, tears shimmering in your eyes, "I will, Yeri, I promise."

"Don't you dare shed a tear; I spent ages on your eye makeup!" Yeri quipped and you both shared a laugh. Your heart swelled with warmth when you noticed Mingi, your closest guard, wearing a subtle smile in his corner, "I see you there, Song Mingi." You teased.

He scoffed lightly, "I wasn't trying to hide. But congratulations, your highness." Touched by his gesture, you approached Mingi and hugged him, careful not to disrupt your wedding gown.

At that moment, the bond between you and your loyal guard and handmaiden was a testament to the enduring friendships that had guided you through the journey to this joyous occasion.

In the resplendent palace courtyard, where the sun bathed the surroundings in a warm, golden glow, the Prince of Wonderland and the Princess of Aurora stood before their families, their subjects, and the benevolent eyes of the heavens.

With heartfelt sincerity, you exchanged vows, your voices carrying the weight of your love and commitment. Yunho's voice, steady and unwavering, vowed to cherish and protect you for all time, while your words promised to stand by his side through all the trials and joys that life would bring.

As you concluded your vows, the air seemed to hold its breath, witnessing this profound declaration of love.

The moment that followed was pure magic—a sweet, tender kiss that sealed your promises and marked the beginning of your journey together as husband and wife. The world around you faded, leaving only the prince and princess, lost in the warmth of your love and the promise of a beautiful future ahead.

The kingdoms of Wonderland and Aurora have come together not only through the arranged marriage but also through the genuine love and connection between Prince Yunho and his princess.

Your union becomes a symbol of lasting peace.

Gazing out from the balcony of your and Yunho's bed chambers, you released a contented sigh, entranced by the breathtaking view of Wonderland.

Never had you imagined such a reality for yourself.

Marriage had always appeared as a mere obligation, a duty that came with your role as the princess of your realm. Yet, here you stood, wedded to the love of your life.

It was beyond anything you could have hoped for.

Reflecting on your initial apprehension at the prospect of marrying Yunho, you chuckled at the insignificance of those fears now.

Your lips curled into a smile as the familiar embrace of strong arms enveloped you from behind, drawing your form close to his, the contrast in your sizes a comforting reminder of his protective presence.

"What are you doing out here all alone, hm? Come back to bed, my love," He murmured, pressing affectionate kisses along your exposed neck, "Just reminiscing about how silly we were at the start. Look at us now, so happy together."

Yunho's smile illuminated the night as he gently turned you to face him, "I'm glad that marrying for love is no longer only a dream never to come true for you," He whispered before capturing your lips in a loving kiss, "I love you so much, my princess."

A swell of joy filled your heart, a testament to the boundless depth of your love, "I love you too, my prince. Thank you for making my dream come true."

In the realm of Wonderland and Aurora, where love had once been the cornerstone of your alliance, Prince Yunho and you, the Princess of Aurora, embarked on your journey of happily ever after.

Your union, born from an arranged marriage but nurtured by genuine love, was a symbol of unity and hope for your kingdoms.

Together, you ruled with wisdom, compassion and unwavering devotion to your people. The lands of Wonderland and Aurora flourished under your reign and the scars of past conflicts began to heal as the two kingdoms truly became one.

Hand in hand, you ventured through the seasons of life, sharing laughter, dreams and challenges. Your love, built on a foundation of trust and companionship, only deepened with time. Together, you found solace in each other's arms and the comfort of knowing you were each other's greatest support.

As the sun set over your united kingdoms, you stood on the balcony of your palace together, watching the horizon with hearts full of contentment.

Your journey had been one of growth, resilience and love, and you knew that your happily ever after would continue to unfold, a testament to the power of love in the face of adversity.

Hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading! I love reading your thoughts, reviews and feedback so feel free to leave a reply, an ask or even a message if you want! <3

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Daddy's Home Fest

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DILF BTS is coming to a Tumblr near you March - April 2024!

♡ Title: Care For You

♡ Pairing: Alpha Gang Boss!Yoongi x Omega Maid!Seokjin

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: gang au, dead dove, parent au, a/b/o | angst, fluff, smut

♡ Summary: As the leader of the infamous Bangtan, Yoongi is untouchable and lives life as he pleases. He thinks he has it all until the tall and broad shoulder omegan maid, Kim Seokjin walks into his office and makes Yoongi second guess what he wants in life.

by @sweetestofchaos

♡ Title: Daddy, Daughter, and Dewey Decimals

♡ Pairing: Single Dad!Namjoon x (f)reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: Parent AU, Fluff, Smut, Mutual Pining

♡ Summary: I adored the daddy and daughter duo that came to visit me every week at the library. Sunhee was cute and vivacious and her dad was every single woman's dream. A simple request, one late night, and a slip of the tongue revealing it wasn't just one-sided attraction.

by @remedyx

♡ Title: Dirty Laundry

♡ Pairing: Seokjin x f. reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: Slice of life, established married couple, PWP

♡ Summary: When you come across your daughter and Seokjin having a princess-themed tea party, you can't help but fall in love with your husband a little more. It helps that you find him absolutely ravishing in the little pink dress he wears too.

by @sailoryooons

♡ Title: Love Blooms

♡ Pairing: Jin x Hoseok

♡ Rating: MA

♡ Genre: Divorced, single father AU | angst, fluff smut

♡ Summary: Summary: Divorced and lost, Jin grapples with self-discovery and single fatherhood. Then, sunshine arrives in the form of Hoseok, helping him explore his desires and build a found family. Their love faces challenges - ex-wife drama, societal disapproval - but together they prove love and acceptance can bloom even in unexpected gardens

by @downbad4yoongi

♡ Title: Lose You to Love Me

♡ Pairing: Yoongi x f! Reader

♡ Rating: 🔞

♡ Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

♡ Summary: Yoongi thought he had everything. The woman of his dreams whom he gave everything for. The sweetest Princess who became his whole world the minute she was born and a career he can say he's happy in but what happens when it all comes crumbling down when one small secret blows his marriage open?

by @jmvore

♡ Title: Off Limits

♡ Pairing: Female Reader x Seokjin

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: smut, porn with very little plot

♡ Summary: You are visiting your family over spring break and discover that the family you used to babysit for are separated. Does this mean Mister Kim is no longer off limits?

by @theharrowing

♡ Title: podcast

♡ Pairing: single father!Namjoon x f! reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: single father AU | fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

♡ Summary: You and Namjoon keep bumping into each other at multiple instances, as if destined to. In a world where past loves and current responsibilities intertwine, Namjoon navigates the complexities of single fatherhood, cherishing the moments with his daughter, Nari, while reflecting on lost love through his popular podcast, "A Loveless Lover." A chance encounter at a daycare center brings him face to face with you, sparking a connection rooted in compassion and shared moments of vulnerability. As their worlds collide, the possibility of new beginnings looms, challenging Namjoon and you to confront the past and consider the future with newfound hope.

by @hobipaint

♡ Title: sakura 🌸

♡ Pairing: king!yoongi x (f) reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: mature, fluff, angst, pining

♡ Summary: yoongi could never figure out how could a sakura tree bloom right on his son’s seventh birthday. logically, atleast, for his kingdom’s soil wasn't blessed enough for beautiful flora; however, when his inspection rounds reveal a trip totally unexpected, and in a crescendo of buried memories, his love for the tree gets as bright as the petals of the blossom.

by @liveyun

♡ Title: Shatter With Me

♡ Pairing: Model!Jungkook x Surrogate!f.Reader

♡ Rating: MA 18+

♡ Genre: Best Friend's Husband, Surrogacy AU | heavy angst, smut, mild fluff

♡ Summary: Your best friend, Jiyoon, and her husband, Jungkook, have faced years of hardship trying to start a family. In a last-ditch effort to have their dream life, they seek solace in surrogacy. Wanting to see your best friend smile, you offer to become the bright beacon at the end of the tunnel, giving them what they have always wanted. But what happens when you begin to shine your light on their darkness? Things aren’t always as they seem—happiness can be a façade, shattering under the lightest pressure.

by @colormepurplex2

♡ Title: Since Day One

♡ Pairing: teacher!jimin x teacher! f. reader

♡ rating: 18+

♡ Genre: enemies to lovers, coworker au, single father au

♡ Summary: Being a Pre-K teacher is no easy feat, but Jimin is always up for the challenge. However, on his first day on the job, he makes an enemy in the parking lot before he even sets foot inside the building. Looks like this school year won’t be all sunshine and rainbows after all.

by @jjungkookislife

Daddy Jimin came home April 6. Read here!

♡ Title: baby fangs

♡ Pairing: Jimin x Jungkook

♡ Rating: Explicit/18+

♡ Genre: Urban fantasy, vampires, strangers to lovers, angst, smut

♡ Summary: As a human, Jungkook thought life was meaningless. It isn’t until he dies that he finds something worth living for: the family he never had.

by @gimmethatagustd

#bts fanfic #bts fic #namjoon fic #seokjin fic #hoseok fic #jimin fic #taehyung fic #jungkook fic #bts collab #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts fests #bts #daddys home fest #dilf bts

[heich0e]

THE WITCH'S SONG - part one knight!osamu/witch!reader tags: fem!reader, royalty!au, supernatural!au, witchcraft, enemies to lovers, mentions of violence/illness/death, persecution and oppression, tw blood, please read the tags on each chapter as updated and minors do not interact. crossposted to ao3 MASTERLIST

The night air is sweet. 

It’s still early summer, where the days are warm and bright before giving way to cool evenings, and the smell spring unfurled with its budding leaves continues to linger long after the sun sets. The aroma is fresh and green, not yet turned to the heady fragrance of singed grass and warmed earth which will slowly seep in as the days grow longer and the sun ever-brighter overhead.

There’s something captivating about this time of year; not quite the lush, blooming spring, nor the scorching, unforgiving summer, but a deliriously pleasant in-between that keeps the best of both.

On a tall hill, overlooking the rocky coast and a quiet village in the distance, sits a small stone cottage. Ivy crawls along the rows of uneven bricks that give the home its shape, having long settled and slanted in the time since it was built, each vine curling in long stems around four-pane windows and up towards the thatched roof. 

In front of the house sits a garden, full of every plant anyone could possibly desire to find in the given climate; vegetables, fruits and unusual herbs abound. The rich earth that surrounds the cottage is fertile and generous—with a careful hand to till and tend it, there’s little it can't sprout. The gardens are still not quite at their peak for the season, the plants low to the ground but flourishing as they patiently wait for a few more sun-filled days to truly blossom into their prime. 

Along the western side of the property, nearest to the towering forest’s edge, sits a greenhouse connected to a shabby little shed that greatly resembles the cottage in its quaint, unassuming construction. It’s there, in the dead of this cool summer night, that you—the owner of the cottage—toil.

Your fingers hold a glass vial over a small open flame atop the work station with a set of silver pincers. Your keen, well-trained eyes watch attentively as the fire licks up along the edges of the glass, heating the contents within. A breeze, northeasterly with a faint taste of salt air that creeps in with the nearby waves, whisks through the room and a shiver accompanies it in turn. 

A soft sigh slips through your parted lips and your eyes, previously fixed on the tincture held over the flame, lift towards the door. 

You aren’t startled when you see him standing there, though you barely contain the sound of annoyance that threatens to leave you; the momentary glance is the only acknowledgement you make to his (notably unwelcome) appearance as his figure darkens your doorway. You return your gaze to the solution you’re in the midst of preparing—a careful balance of valerian, mugwort, and poppy heads for a woman in the nearby village who has been unable to sleep restfully since the untimely death of her husband.

“Good evenin’,” he says to you once he realizes that you will not be the first to speak. He punctuates the greeting with a light clearing of his throat.

“Is it?” you reply, removing the slender vial from the flame and swirling its contents. You closely examine the colour and viscosity of the liquid, returning it to the heat for a few moments more after some consideration. 

“Sorry to show up unannounced,” the young man’s own tone is rather tight and clipped as he speaks the words–obviously equally unhappy with the turn of events that had led him to your cottage this evening, though resolute to maintain some level of decorum. 

“And yet,”—you finally look up at him, meeting his gaze with a firm and unwavering stare that you have up until this point denied him—“here you are.” 

Finally satisfied with the tincture, you set about pressing a stopper into the tube. You reach over and pluck up a burning taper from the candleholder resting nearby on your worktop, tipping it forward over the still blisteringly-hot glass to seal the cork. A rivulet of molten wax runs from the candlestick in a slow drizzle, and you carefully turn the thin vial to coat the border where glass and cork marry evenly. A piece of blue ribbon is then carefully wound around the warm wax before it has fully hardened, sealing the small vessel shut. 

The man watches silently as you slip the vial into a velvet pouch, tying the strings together tightly to draw it closed, and then you tuck the pouch safely away in the pocket of your flowing skirt—out of sight from where your visitor stands in the doorway to the greenhouse. Your eyes scan over the bench for a moment before you extinguish the oil burner you’d been using, turning the small knob at the base until the flame shrinks down to nothingness. 

“I wouldn’t’ve come if it weren’t important,” the young man’s tone has softened slightly into something closer to a mumble, weary from his journey and seemingly in grave need of something he could only seek from you. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, with grim shadows under his eyes and a pallor to his skin that doesn’t suit him.

“Now that I do believe,” you remark, almost drolly, picking up your oil lamp and crossing the room towards where he stands. He stiffens a little as you approach, as though bracing himself against a threat, but you merely slip soundlessly past him, stepping out into the dark night. 

Behind you, the man sighs.

He follows.

The two of you cross the yard, a few paces separating you throughout the silent trek, with the lamp you hold in hand the only light to lead the way. You tread carefully through the well-tended garden, careful but familiar motions deciding where each foot falls, and you sense without turning that he’s following your path as you move towards the stone cottage on the other side of the property—ensuring his own steps follow your footprints precisely. There are candles burning inside your cottage up ahead, their warm glow visible through the windows, and smoke curls steadily from the chimney and into the brisk night air. The smoke is perfumed with herbs, and the scent only grows stronger the nearer you get to your home.

You wonder if he notices.

“That’s far enough.”

You pause in your stride as you reach the stout stone wall that circles your cottage in a knee-high ring, resting with your feet together at the place where a gate might be were there any need for it. Behind you, the man falters to his own stop, surprised by your sudden halt and your sharp words.

“I need yer help,” he sounds confused, and frustrated—impatience creeping into his tone again. There’s a sharpness to it, like he’s forced each word out from between clenched teeth. You don’t look back to verify your suspicion. 

Another cold wind blows from the direction of the sea, and the budding leaves of the garden’s plants around you rustle as it passes, whispering amongst themselves as they spectate your exchange.

“I care very little for what you need, Miya Osamu,”—you glance at him over your shoulder, and see the way the distant light from your windows dances in his eyes—“and it will be a cold day in hell before I help a royal knight.”

The garden seems to still in the wake of your low-spoken words, the breeze dying out like the temporary peace ahead of a storm’s rage.

Before you, Osamu’s eyes have hardened. The lines of his sharp jaw set underneath his skin.

“Ya know me.”

“I know of you,” you correct him flatly. “Fortunately, our paths have never crossed.”

Until now.

Osamu’s nostrils flare, then he swallows.

“How?” he asks, his voice low and deceptively even.

“One of the king’s most trusted knights tearing through the outskirts of the kingdom in search of a healer is news powerful enough to reach even my ears, Miya.” Your lamplight dims slightly as you hold it aloft in your hand, the flame beneath the glass slowly shrinking. The oil is burning low. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you got desperate and I got unlucky.”

He flinches, his lashes fluttering slightly like he’s fighting back a more violent reaction. Like he’s accepting a blow he could easily return but chooses not to. The knight's gaze casts down to his feet as his fingers curl into fists at his sides.

“My brother's ill,” he says quietly, his voice heavy with an anxiety that rolls off of him in waves. “My twin.”

“Atsumu,” you specify, since he did not. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, and there’s a spark of something new behind it. Something more volatile. He looks angry that you’ve taken it upon yourself to speak his brother’s name.

“I know what you are,” he says slowly, wielding his next words like a blade and aiming to kill.

“Oh?” You tilt your head to the side in a show of guilelessness. 

“Yer a witch,” he continues, overlooking your feigned ignorance. 

“There are no witches in this kingdom,” you reply. “The crown you’ve sworn your life to saw to that.”

“Our king h—“

“Your king,” you interrupt him. The unexpected interjection seems to shock him, and his shoulders square indignantly.

“Yer also a subject of this kingdom,” he counters, and your distaste is made perfectly evident in your responding sneer. 

“I’m governed by no monarch, and certainly by no man.”

Osamu’s hands are still held in tightly-clenched fists at his side, the lines of his body as clear an indicator as any to his palpable anger. “You’d admit to treason before a knight?” 

“You’ve already accused me of witchcraft,” you spit, your teeth gnashing together as you force the words out. “What’s another crime to be burned for?”

You know all too well the end that awaits a woman accused of such a crime.

It’s the fate your mother met before your very eyes, after all.

Seconds stretch between you in the garden—sticky, and uncomfortable, and polluted with the animosity you feel for each other. It takes root in distrust and blossoms into something ugly, like a weed.

Osamu takes a breath, letting his head hang forward. His shoulders slump.

 “An old man two towns west from here told me a young woman in this cottage once cured his ailing wife in her final hours, and she lived a decade more. That she was brought back from the brink of death thanks to the woman’s care.” He looks up at you again, and his stare is insistent. Beseeching.

You know the man he speaks of, and his gentle, lovely wife. It was half a century ago now since you’d first met them, and you’ve heard the old man has gone a bit senile in his old age. You doubt he meant you any harm in his revelation, regardless of the trouble it’s come to cause.

“I’m nothing but a humble herbalist.” Your hand sweeps out in gesture to your garden, but the man before you is unmoved.

“Who’s been a young woman for fifty years.”

Even the distant sea seems to have stilled as the tension intensifies between you, the waves falling silent to make room for the hostility that spreads with every passing moment.

Osamu swallows. “They say witches have powerful healin’ abilities. That you can make potions that’ll revive a man half-dead.”

“It’s folklore,” you reply dismissively.

“It’s fact,” Osamu snaps. "I know it is."

“And what else do you claim to know of these so-called witches?” you deride, and you don’t miss the way his eyes seem to quickly trace you.

He squares his shoulders, then he meets your gaze. “They say ya maintain yer beauty and youth by devourin’ the hearts of good men.”

“Is that so?” you muse, though you seek no sincere elaboration. You look to your left, east towards the sea, and then sweep your gaze across the expanse of your garden to the right. You meet his dark eyes again after surveying your surroundings. “Well, I see no good men nearby, so I believe you should be safe.”

In the dim light, you swear you see something throb at the corner of his tense jaw.

“There’s not a healer in the royal court who’s been able to cure my brother,” Osamu’s voice breaks, taking a step towards you. “I’ve come here unarmed, and mean no harm to ya.”

Your upper lip curls at the lie and his proximity, baring your teeth.

No man has ever once approached a witch with pure intentions.

The seek only their beauty, their power, or their beating, bloody hearts.

Your mother’s screams ring suddenly through your ears, piercing and agonized. The memory makes gooseflesh raise along your skin. Makes the back of your tongue taste sour. You squeeze your eyes shut as though to quell it, but this only seems to trap the sound in the recesses on your brain. They grow louder, and harder to forget. 

You see your mother on a wooden stage constructed in the town square before a crowd of horrified spectators, the gnarled boards underfoot already stained in scarlet.

The white linen shift they’d forced her to wear, and the way the thin material flowed away from her frame in the breeze.

The glittering hilt of the jewelled knife that carved out her heart, with the sigil of the king etched into its blade.

The crackling flames that consumed her as she wailed.

A witch can live without her heart, you see, so long as it’s kept close to her. Your mother wasn’t spared a second of the misery of being burned alive. She was granted no mercy in the final terrifying moments of her life.

You open your eyes and the dark sky above you seems to hang closer overhead, as though it’s more suffocatingly near than it was before. The garden around you suddenly feels colder.

Osamu’s eyes widen, like he feels it too.

Your dying lamp burns out.

“Leave this place,” you say to him, low and warning. Your voice rings clear in the unearthly still night. “And if you value your life, never come back here again.”

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #hq fic #hq writing #writing #tws