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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

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Breathe ~ Doctor (part 1)

A/n: So I had a FANTASTIC idea and had to write it. The first part is all of the experience with 9 in one part. I so hope you enjoy this introduction, and allow it to take you on a journey with me that I have been having far too much fun exploring.

Word Count: 11,000+

MASTERLIST

Rose Tyler had three people in her life that were a constant.

Her mother, first of all. The woman might be a little annoying from time to time, gossiping and being pushy and demanding and wasting money on parties and dramatics. She was a good woman though, with a large heart. She had, after all, raised Rose by herself and the girl had come out brilliantly.

Then there was Mickey. Mickey was Rose's boyfriend. He was... cool, I guess. There was definitely more to him than others cared to dig for. Even he himself didn't know his full potential, and it put a stopper on him quite a bit. He was fine enough, and obviously cared for Rose, but he tended to be a bit... distracted, and oblivious. Desperate, maybe.

Y/n sure didn't approve of him, but as Rose's best friend he had long since learned to accept the man. Y/n was very good at filling in the spaces where Mickey lacked. He was attentive and listened to Rose talk for hours. That was perhaps the biggest reason he didn't like Mickey too much. Rose complained a lot. Y/n fancied himself an artist. He and Rose had met when he'd tried to do street art to get some attention, but it was more hussle than it was worth. The best thing that came out of it was his friendship with Rose.

There was something odd about Y/n, Rose was sure. The man was usually very open and honest - unless it came to any and all talk about relationships. Rose had long since stopped asking, but others hadn't. Every time his love life was brought up, he clammed shut and got very bitey. No one was sure why, but it happened every time without fail. His reaction didn't get any more or less violent, either. No one could wear him out or get him to snap. He just got tense and irritable until you stopped talking, and then the mood was usually ruined the rest of the day.

It was a silver lining, though. Otherwise Y/n was extremely pleasant and had no problems talking about other peoples' relationships or love lives. Y/n never encouraged Rose to be single or to dump Mickey - as long as everyone was happy, you could talk about anything in your life without any back lash. Rose got along and they didn't talk about it and that was that.

Then the Doctor happened.

Rose and Y/n didn't lie to each other. They'd formed a friendship on if you didn't want something known, you didn't mention it until you were ready to talk about it with a level head. No matter what, they didn't lie. They just kept their mouths shut. So when the Doctor entered Rose Tyler's life and her mom took up the phones like usual and Mickey ran off to the bar to watch the game, Rose pulled Y/n into her room and told him everything.

"No," Y/n mumbled. It wasn't that he didn't believe her. Rose Tyler wasn't insane, and they didn't lie to each other. He knew that, logically, if she said it, it was true. That didn't stop the fact that his mind rejected what she was telling him.

"Yes!" Rose gushed, nodding eagerly. "He's got this weird screw driver, except it's got no head, just a little light at the end. And mannequins - they moved. He's the one that blew up my job."

Y/n allowed him a second to process that before responding. Rose stayed silent as well, waiting for him to speak again before she said more. "And he said his name was what?"

"The Doctor. Sounds like a mad man, huh?"

A sort of amused snort came from Y/n then. "No shit." He shook his head. "Hold on, I need air." They began to walk out when the doggy door suddenly blew in. Y/n and Rose both jumped, before Rose yelled something at her mom about not nailing the flap shut like she said she would. But when Y/n kneeled down, he picked up nails off of the ground, holding them up for Rose to see. "I think she actually did, Rosey."

The two locked eyes and then both gazes shot to the flap as it suddenly moved again. Rose went to stick her head down there but Y/n wasn't having any of that. He nudged her with his foot, grabbing the bat by the door he had insisted the Tyler's kept at the ready. Two women living alone needed some way to protect themselves. Not necessarily a man - no woman NEEDED a man, even Y/n knew that - but something. Now it came in handy as he hefted, swinging the door open as Rose scrambled to her feet behind him.

A man stood there. He wore a leather jacket and had an odd expression on his face. "Hello," Y/n greeted, unsure.

"Hello," the man responded back. He lifted a long, odd object and pressed a button, running the object down Y/n's body as if... scanning him.

It clicked in Y/n's brain far too quickly. The thing glowed at the end that was pointed at Y/n, and it made a buzzing noise. The man was weird and smiled too wide. Even the leather jacket was there. "You're the Doctor."

The Doctor's smile grew. "Normally I have to introduce myself. It's usually a bad sign when someone knows my name, but you're not made of plastic so I can't imagine what I'd have to be worried about. Are you made of plastic by chance?"

"No," Y/n answered calmly. He was processing Rose's story at hyper speed now. It only made sense that a man like this would be attached to a world where plastic came alive and tried to kill you. The night seemed bright around him. There was something odd about his presence, like seeing cartoon and live action mixing between characters and background. The Doctor didn't belong here, and it was obvious in every move he made.

The Doctor nodded. "Suppose I'll be on my way then."

"You will not," Rose spoke up, grabbing the man's arm around Y/n and pulling all of them. "I have questions and this time you WILL answer them."

That simple action changed the lives of Rose Tyler, the Doctor, and everyone they cared about so much that none of them would ever be able to go back. Honestly though, none of them would have it any other way. Except maybe Jackie.

"Doctor?" Y/n turned to the other man, who hummed without looking over. The Doctor's eyes were trained on the end of the world. As were Rose's. Y/n couldn't keep looking. Something had stuck in his head. Something that made him even more sick than the sight of an empty planet being consumed in a universe that had long since been done with it. "The woman before. She said something about your planet. Something about you being impossible."

The Doctor got a very dark look on his face then. "I suppose I am rather impossible." He shrugged, obviously trying to keep it light.

Unfortunately, Y/n's curiosity was insatiable. It was something the Doctor had come to appreciate about him. Until now, maybe. "Well, I'm the last of my kind." He paused but when Y/n's expression grew only more earnest, he shared more. There was something about Y/n that pulled at the Time Lord. Made him want to talk. Talk about things other than just science and time and language and culture and history and such. Something that made the Doctor want to talk about himself. "A very long time ago, there was a war. A war between my people, and those knows as the Daleks." He paused, getting rather somber. "We won...” he swallowed. There was an unspoken, at a cost.

Y/n found himself with more questions, but felt none of them appropriate to ask. "I'm so sorry." Rose turned then to see Y/n take the Doctor's hand. Y/n had always been affectionate, but only with people he was rather attached to. With strangers, Y/n was usually quiet and reserved. Until he was sure someone could handle his prying questions and blunt honesty that so often got him in trouble if he didn't check himself around the right people.

Perhaps it was the fact that the Doctor was a lot like that as well that Y/n had taken to him so quickly. Whether it was that or something else, Rose was glad the two men were getting along. She was also glad there was someone smarter than Y/n in the room. The boy had asked so many questions and gotten so many answers that he had quite a bit of knowledge more than normal people. He was no genius like the Doctor, nor was he hyper intelligent or anything. But he could outmatch Rose and Mickey, and they often went to him when they needed something spelled or math done that they couldn't mentally do quick enough.

Rose suddenly saw something else though. Past the similarity and the comfort and the peace the men found in each other. The Doctor looked back to Earth, and Y/n continued to look at the Doctor. It was subtle, and it wouldn't have been noticed if Rose wasn't already looking. But she had. Y/n finally looked away fully, but there was a look in his eyes that Rose had never seen before.

What was that about?

"What was that?" Rose demanded when the left the room, parting from the Doctor.

Y/n seemed taken aback. "What was what?"

Rose wasn't sure how to describe it. An odd look? A weird new air about him? There was something different when Y/n looked at the Doctor and Rose couldn't understand it. "With you and the Doctor?" She tried to clarify.

That only seemed to confuse Y/n more. "What are you talking about? Holding hands? I do that with you and Mickey all the time, and I'm not even Mickey's biggest fan."

Rose rolled her eyes so hard that Y/n almost laughed. "You looked... different."

Y/n was quiet a long time. Rose almost thought he wasn't going to say anything. That she had found something he wasn't ready to share. But then he did speak, even if it was soft. "He's different, the Doctor. Not just because he's alien, though... perhaps that is it." He sighed. "He's lonely. He's so lonely, Rose. Can't you see it? In the way he empathizes with loss and grief. The way he looks when you mention his name or his planet or the TARDIS or your family. When he was watching you watching Earth die, like he could see... something else. He told me something. Something that makes me think... he might have watched his own world be destroyed, like we did today. But it wasn't empty, and his species hadn't spread out and integrated and evolved. They just died, and left him all alone."

For a second, it was quiet. "You see it, don't you?"

A nod was all Y/n gave at first. He didn't need to say anything, but he did anyway. "He looked the way I did when I got the news back then. When I found out. He gets that exact look."

Suddenly Rose looked very sad indeed. "Well. Now you both have someone, eh?"

A small smile tugged at Y/n's lips. "Yeah, here's to that at least."

"Y/N!"

The man turned at his name, only to be tackled by the shorter blonde that had become known as his best friend. "Rose," Y/n whispered, clinging to her. "God I thought you were dead for sure. I - what happened? I lost you guys and then..." He looked sick. "There was so much light and-"

"We're all okay," the Doctor reassured. "That's what matters."

Y/n turned on the older man. "Now you listen here. That's NOT all that matters. Because she damn well could have not been and I wasn't there to protect her. Or you! What would I have done if either of you had died and I was up here sitting on my thumbs like an idiot?"

The Doctor was taken aback by Y/n's outburst. When the man turned and stormed off, Rose was the one to step up and explain. "I'm sorry, Doctor. He's rather protective of those he cares about." She bit her lip, giving the Doctor the impression there was more she wanted to say. He waited for her to speak, and after a while she did. "When he was young, Y/n saw something terrible. His childhood wasn't normal. I mean, you think life is pretty rough on most of us, but Y/n's had it worst than most."

"What happened?" The Doctor asked quietly.

Rose sighed. "His parents had always been pretty distant, but they were mostly good. They did what they needed to do and let him free when he wanted to be. But, well, they were.. angry. The fought a lot, and it didn't help that his dad was a fan of alcohol. His mum... well she was a fan of lots of things other than that, none of them good for you. One day, she came home high. She wanted something... I can't remember what. His parents fought over it until... his mum pulled a little too hard. His dad slipped and knocked his head really hard on the floor. He died. His mom panicked and..." Rose swallowed. And no further words had to be said about it. "Y/n was on the couch the entire time watching. He ran. Was on the streets for a long time doing lots of things. Working as best he could while keeping his head down until he turned eighteen and was free of the system. Found us right after that. He watched his parents destroy themselves and spent a long time alone after that because he couldn't stop the fighting." She scoffed. "His words of course. Not his fault people fight. He was only twelve."

The Doctor seemed to be thinking about something. Something that didn't seem to be sitting right with him. "Does he have any other family?"

"Loads. He used to have a very big family. No brothers or sisters, but lots of aunts and uncles and cousins and the such."

"What happened to them?" The Doctor looked at Rose, as if searching her mind for something he desperately needed.

Rose stalled a few seconds. "A lot of the same, really. Not so much murder, but... well, his parents got their habits from their families, and between that and regular life? Not as many are as strong or as resourceful as Y/n. They ran off or got addicted to something or..." She shrugged. "He lost all of them at some point."

The Doctor nodded. "I see. Well, this is settled. Let's go somewhere more fun." His tone changed but the mood didn't. Rose let it drop though. Y/n didn't mind Rose answering questions like this for people he was comfortable with. He actually preferred it, so that wasn't her worry. The Doctor had drawn a silent line though. She didn't know what it was blocking her from, but she decided to let the whole topic drop just in case.

Perhaps it was what Y/n had said about him and the Doctor being the same.

She hoped they weren't too similar. It was bad enough knowing Y/n's story, she couldn't bare another like it.

Y/n had been staring at the building that had just gone up in flames for a very long time now. Rose and the Doctor had been celebrating, but Y/n sat there quietly, on the pavement, staring at the building like he was waiting for it to undo the carnage that had been caused moments ago.

"So what's on your mind?" The Doctor had plopped down next to Y/n, smile small. He'd gotten used to Y/n's mellow mood. The boy wasn't hyper like the Doctor. He didn't get off on exploration. What drove Y/n, it seemed, was saving people. And a life like this took its tole on people who wanted to save everyone. People like Y/n. So, the Doctor had learned to check in every once in a while. Every time he did, he was never disappointed. Even when Y/n seemed to be hurting, he was never negative about it. He could accept a success. The things he did think though put the Doctor on a path that had him mulling for days. In a good way. He and Y/n got into a lot of very stimulating debates this exact way.

Today wasn't about debates for Y/n.

"I know they were going to destroy the world and stuff. I'm not sad they're dead. We won and they've been stopped and all of humanity and Earth has been saved. That's great. The way we did it was rather impressive too." He chuckled, but there was obviously more he was thinking.

"But?" The Doctor prompted.

Y/n shrugged. "Wiping out an entire family. I mean, their species isn't normally like that, are they?"

"No," The Doctor answered slowly.

A bitter sweet smile rested on Y/n's lips then. "Do you think they were raised to be like that, or is blood thirst genetic?" It was a sarcastic question, so the Doctor didn't answer. There was a moment of quiet before Y/n shook his head and sighed. "Doctor, would you prefer I didn't travel with you?"

That was not the thing the Doctor had been expecting Y/n to say next. "Why would you ever think I didn't want you along with us?"

Another moment where Y/n struggled with how to form his thoughts and feelings into words passed before the boy finally figured it out. "I like this life. I really do. I like being around you and Rose and watching you guys have your fun. But sometimes I feel like... a bit of a downer."

The Doctor chuckled. "Honestly Y/n, you're the first person in a very long who sees the truth to things. As much as we cling to our victories, you're real about them. You handle everything with complete understanding, even with your limited knowledge. You have empathy even for beings who would have killed you without even remembering your face. You have pity for monsters and you feel for species the rest of your kind would rather kill than have a civil conversation with. Rose is fun and she matches my energy and I appreciate that. But you ask the questions I've been waiting for someone to ask for centuries. Your kindness is quite refreshing. You get it."

Y/n smiled. "So you want me along?"

"I will always want you along, Y/n. As long as I can have you along," The Doctor answered without hesitation. "You're no downer, I promise."

It was that moment that something changed for Y/n. Rose saw this too, but not in the moment the two men shared now, but after. Y/n and the Doctor had unlocked something in each other in that conversation. A kind of connection where even as everyone cheered, all the pair had to do was look at each other to know that in all the sweetness around them, the other understood the slight bitterness they felt as well. As much as they wanted to end evil, they also both felt the loss of any soul they couldn't save. Taking a moment to mourn with each other seemed a relief for both of them.

It was something Rose couldn't feel. She saw things pretty straight forward. Bad people needed to have an end to them. And she wasn't wrong, but the compassion that had come to Y/n and Doctor after having their families and lives taken from them and living far too long by themselves, they had a unique ability to give a moment of silence even for enemies who were twisted by things out of their control. Who couldn't be shown the light.

They bonded over it so much that Rose felt herself being left behind.

Y/n and Rose still told each other lots and cuddled when either needed comfort. The Doctor and Rose still had lots of fun and laughed at each others jokes and had that same sense of humor that came only from adjusting to and enjoying the life they both lead. They were all friends. But Y/n and the Doctor had something else. Just a little something more. Just enough that Rose saw the change and began to think that there might be something major she didn't know about the man who called himself her best friend.

"Something's off."

Rose and the Doctor looked over at Y/n, whose eyes were slowly and carefully scanning their surroundings with narrowed eyes, as if searching for proof that his hunch was solid. "What is it?" Rose asked gently, moving closer so they didn't have to talk around the people in the crowd they had been moving through before Y/n had stopped dead.

The dynamic between the trio had very early on become clear. The Doctor was the brain, coming up with the plans. Rose was the second in command. She was stuck to the Doctor's side and they worked in tandem, being unbroken and often sliding along the same wave length. Y/n was the heart. When Rose and the Doctor got stuck on a mind path, or got distracted, or veered a little too right of what was right, Y/n was the one to shake things up to give them a new perspective, or to help either of them if they needed it. Y/n was a comfort and a friend. He was also very intuitive. Where the Doctor sought things out, and Rose seemed to stumble on information she found, information seemed to find Y/n. He just had a good gut guiding him.

So when he said something was up, at this point, he was never questioned by his companions.

"Earlier one of the girls said that people are chosen to go up to the higher floors. That there's a prize. They go up and something happens and then they never come back."

The Doctor nodded. "I was thinking about that too."

Y/n shook his head. "Did you notice that it's incredibly hot in here? I mean, why? It's obviously not ideal - it makes the people here uncomfortable. It's slight discomfort, but still. Why keep a bunch of people in a super heated room? What's on level 500, air conditioning?"

It was made to be a joke, but the comment seemed to spark something in the Doctor. "You know what, that's an excellent point." He stood straighter. "Fun's over. Where's that friend of yours, Rose?"

The blonde looked around. "He was... just behind us."

"Grand," Y/n grumbled sarcastically.

The Doctor chuckled a few times. "Took the words right out of my mouth." As he said it he looked over at Y/n, his eyes flickering to Y/n's lips. He looked away quickly and Y/n missed the moment altogether. The two continued cracking jokes toward Rose about the man both of them had been increasingly annoyed with, but Rose wasn't responding.

Because she had seen where the Doctor's eyes had landed, and her mind was working a million miles an hour to put this together. It's not that the concept of men liking men was foreign to her, just rare. One that wasn't her first thought for sure. But as Y/n and the Doctor got closer and closer on a very emotionally intimate level, Rose was noticing the building tiny moments that wouldn't mean anything alone but meant everything put together.

She smiled to herself. Rose Tyler had a plan, and not just about Satellite Five.

"You wanna talk?" Y/n offered quietly.

"Do you?" Rose shot back.

Y/n wasn't sure what to do with that. "I always want to talk with you, Rose."

The blonde jerked her body to turn and face Y/n, a determined look on her face. "You know Y/n, how about this. An exchange of honesties. For every truth you tell me, I will tell you one in return. And your truth has to equal mine, so if you want something meaningful then you have to give something like that first."

Y/n paused and then nodded. "Sounds good. Do you want me to start?”

"No, actually," Rose decided. Y/n motioned for her to go ahead, so she did. "Watching my dad die was not great, but I'm glad he wasn't alone after all. It was kind of... a relief, actually. Some closure. I got to say goodbye. I got to hold his hand." She offered a weak smile. "Now your turn."

Unsure of what Rose was aiming for, Y/n thought for a second for something he hadn't told her recently that could be as profound and unexpected as that. "This whole life of ours gives me purpose. I feel like I matter, which is something I haven't really felt until now. I know I had people who cared about me and worried about me and expected me home every night, but I always craved to make a difference and finally having that has been like a dream come true. Even though I get a little melancholic... all the time, it's just because I get stuck in my own head a lot and think too much. I actually really like what we do."

Rose nodded. Even though it had been a tad mild compared to hers, it was less what he had said and more the fact that he'd said it. Y/n struggled to communicate positive emotions, often overthinking the negative ones and voicing those because he needed second opinions and insight. Acknowledging positive things didn’t require a second opinion or input, just a congratulations, and since when did he get that just for traveling with the Doctor and finding purpose without looking like some sort of arrogant dick? It might not have been as profound as Rose's truth, but it was equally meaningful.

"I love Mickey and my mum of course, but I don't think I'll be ever to leave this life and be okay with it. I think that I might end up breaking up with Mickey because he deserves better and that thought terrifies me."

Y/n pursed his lips. "Can I just-"

"No comforting or additional thought. We can discuss later. Right now, truth. State it."

"Okay," Y/n sighed. "Uh, relationships in general terrify me." It sort of slipped out and both of them hesitated. Y/n never talked about this sort of stuff. It was the only thing he never talked about, even with Rose. She expected him to clam up but after a second, he just kept going. "I'm scared of falling in love and having my heart broken. I know some things are worth it, and people glorify love so much and I crave it, I really do, but... I've lost so much. I don't think I'd be able to handle it if I really fell for someone and then had to lose them. I'd rather make friends and family than that nonsense. It would hurt to lose them, but in a different way, and there would still be the thought that you would always be that person's friend or family if you get separated or part ways or whatever. Like we'll always be each other's friend, I think. Even if we got to a point where we couldn't be friends anymore. If I left this life behind, or one of us died or-" He sighed. "But when you break up with someone, they move on. They date other people, and do intimate things with them. They love and connect in just as intimate ways as you used to, and eventually they forget you and replace you. I couldn't handle that. I won't."

Rose let out the breath she'd been holding. She'd been too scared to breath, in case it shattered the moment she'd been waiting to happen for years now. "I understand." She took his hand. "Have you... ever been in love before?"

Y/n shook his head. "Not yet." He paused and Rose felt the weight of those words. Not yet. She could imagine Y/n clinging to his heart as the Doctor got closer and closer, his smile ever wide and his charm ever sparkling.

Rose's shoulders sagged a bit. "What will you do if it ever happens?"

"Ignore it." The words were too quick and solid. They came across as desperate. Insistent. In that moment one thing was clearer than anything else in the world. If Y/n wasn't in love with the Doctor already, he would be soon. He was falling hard, and he was falling fast, and when he landed it was going to hurt. They were suddenly both terrified about it.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" The words were hysterical. Y/n's hands shook and his eyes were wide and his skin shone with sweat. His hair was messier than usual and his clothes were disheveled, like he'd rolled down a long hill or gotten in a fight or something.

The horror of what was happening in that moment settled over Rose and the Doctor in a truly terrible way. It was in the ringing in their ears and the horrible, bitter taste that was suddenly in their mouths. "Y/n-" the Doctor began.

"No," the man answered in a very final tone. One that let them know there was no room for question or doubt. He had been touched by the child. He had been infected, and he refused to infect any of the others.

A new friend, Jack Harkness, jogged over at the commotion. "What's happening over here?"

"Doesn't matter," Y/n answered solidly. "We need to move on."

Rose let out a sound that neared a choked sob, except she wasn't crying. She just looked to be in pain. "You- you can't! Y/n-"

Y/n took a few deep breaths. He had made the mistake. In his idiocy, he had gotten between the kid and Rose, and now he was here. The child was far back and they'd had time to get away, but Y/n had touched him and that meant only one thing. "Rose, we don't have time for this." He was near breaking down, and he begged her to see that. He couldn't spend the time before he died losing it. He had to help as much as he could. He had to make a difference. He had to-

"You know, you don't have to do anything, Y/n." Y/n and the Doctor looked at each other. His lips were parted and his eyes were desperate. He wanted to help but... he didn't know how. "You can stop. We would understand. You - you probably don't have much time left." His face crumbled, like he finally understood the meaning behind what he was saying. "You don't have to come. Spend it doing something else. Get yourself some food maybe. There's bound to be something in the TARDIS. Pick a bed, and stay there. We'll keep you comfortable after... after this."

A soft chuckle came from Y/n then. "You know, I'm going to die." The group got deathly quiet. "Maybe that's not true. I'll be alive. I'll be something worse than dead. I'll be brain dead. Forever." He shook his head, his breathing becoming shallow. "But right now, I'm still me. And I want to do something before I stop being me, Doctor. I want to do all I can. I want to do everything, but all we have time for is making sure whatever is happening to me never happens to anyone else ever again, okay? Can I spend my last moment with you?" He was looking right at the Doctor. Not at Rose, which would have made sense as they were practically siblings with the way they acted toward each other. Not even Jack, who had been having fun flirting with everyone - especially because Y/n wasn't anywhere near as hard to get as Rose or the Doctor. Y/n looked at the Doctor, and begged to die by his side, and Jack and Rose looked at each other because the need that Y/n had to steal all the time he had left to spend with the Doctor of all people... it said something Y/n was not ready to find the actual words for.

"Of course you can," the Doctor whispered.

And he did. Y/n was there as they reached the not-bomb that was actually some sort of alien ambulance. He was there when they saved Nancy and gathered the troops. And when it came time, he left too.

"Nancy, take Rose to where you cut the gate. And take this!" He tossed his sonic screwdriver at Rose and she caught it.

"I ought to go as well," Y/n spoke up.

The Doctor looked confused by that. "No I need you here. I promised you'd-"

"Doctor," Y/n interrupted. He took a shaky breath. "I can feel it coming. Soon I'm going to be one of them. Mindless, and coming after you, and you won't be able to stop me. I will kill all of you. Make you just like them." His face darkened. "Like us." He shook his head and Rose and the Doctor looked at each other, trying to find the answer in each other that neither of them had. Y/n steeled himself. "So this is goodbye."

The Doctor stood there for a few seconds. Too many seconds. He was trying to say something, but didn't seem to be able to. "Y/n?" The man answered to his name, and the men locked eyes. "Do you remember the first time we ever set out, and you told me... you told me that Rose was the most important person to you? You joked that no one would ever be that important to you, except someone who would be... special." He let air out of his nose. "You were special to me. More special than most people."

Y/n smiled, fighting tears. "You are special to me too, Doctor." He looked away. "I'm sorry our journey ended so early. I think... I think it could have been special, too."

Then there was nothing else to say, so he left with Rose and Nancy, the three of them booking it to the fence. Y/n stepped through and watched as Nancy and Rose fixed the metal so he wouldn't be able to get back in.

"Did you mean it?" Rose asked, looking at her best friend for what could very well be the last time. "That I was important to you? And that the Doctor was special enough to be just as important?"

The silence stretched for too long. Rose wasn't sure if it was painful to talk with that thing pushing its way up Y/n's throat, or if it was his human fear that kept his lips sealed, but Y/n didn't say anything for a very long time. The fence was sealed and the women stood before he finally spoke. "Do you think differently of me?" He rushed to add, "I know it's obvious. I saw the way you look between us like you expect us to lose our minds and make out right there. I see the way you and Jack looked at each other before too. Like you were watching a romance movie that had a sad ending. One you didn't expect, or think fair. I'm not as subtle as I like to think I am."

Rose scoffed. "You think I think differently of you because you're in love with the Doctor? Why? Because he's an alien?" She narrowed her eyes. "Or because he's a man?" Y/n looked away. "Y/n, you're my best friend. After all we've been through with the Doctor, you're practically my brother. I have been waiting ages now for you to admit your feelings for him. I didn't know until we started traveling, but it doesn't change the fact that you're there for me more than anyone else. You protect me and care about me. Your heart is bigger than all of the universes put together, and you bleed gold - I swear to god. You and the Doctor... you give him something I don't think anyone ever could. You understand something I can't wrap my head around. The way you mourn even the worst of us, because you see potential. The way you can do that, but still stop evil and remove yourself from harm because as much as you pity people who destroy themselves and others, you also won't tolerate their destruction. You're one of the most amazing men I've ever met, and don't think I'm just saying that because you were my first boyfriend.” It was a reference to When they’d first met; Y/n had pretended to be Rise’s boyfriend to get a creep to go away.

Both of them laughed at that, tears falling down their faces. "I remember that." Y/n slipped his hands in his pockets and the mood dropped again. "In another world, Rose, I wouldn't have ever left your side. I really do love you. And even if I am feeling... things, for the Doctor." His eyebrows came together. "You were always my first priority. I just know that he cares about you, too. He has your back, but someone needs to have his. Someone who really understands. And... you get distracted sometimes. But that's okay, because you always have my back, so we watch each other like that." His voice broke as he continued, "Had." Y/n and Rose locked eyes. "You watch him for me, alright? You two..." He laughed again. "I know you two are like me and him. I know he'll never admit it in a million years, but you two. It's subtle and quiet and innocent, but I can see it. I see it in the way he says your name, and the way you trust him. If you don't end up happy because of me I'll come back from the dead just to kick your asses."

Tears fell harder down Rose's face as she laughed again. "You're an idiot."

"Your idiot," Y/n replied without missing a beat.

Rose's expression fell. "How am I supposed to go on these journeys without you? Go back home and face my mum, who needs you around because you're the only one who'll listen to her gossip without giving her an ear load in return? Who will tell Mickey off now that I'm so different and we-" She choked on her words. "You can't go, Y/n."

"I don't want to..." His vision blurred and the pain that had been rising steadily came in full force now. Y/n leaned against the fence, bending at the middle a little bit as his other hand rose so his fingers could wrap around his throat. "I'm sorry, Rose. I- I-" He began sobbing, but stopped as it made the pain worse. "I'm- m-" He shook his head. He didn't want to hear himself say it... Then the thought occurred to him that the people might be trapped in their heads. Conscious and aware, but out of control. Would he see the face of every person he condemned to live like him? Would he sit there and see them and have to touch them anyway? Every single person until... until what? They didn't die. He wouldn't die. He would turn person after person until they were all brain dead and trapped just like him. "Rose."

"I'm here," she whispered, her voice haunted. "I'm right here, Y/n."

Y/n closed his eyes. "Run. Please - PLEASE don't see me like this. Don't see me- m- mummy-" The word forced itself out of his mouth and he whimpered, flinching upon hearing it. Rose made a sound that was half groan and half whine. This was hurting her. "Rose, Ru-" And then he looked up and locked eyes with the girl who had become his sister, and he thought of her and the Doctor before everything went black.

When he woke up again, he was somewhere new. He expected to see himself marching toward his friends, condemning them to death. He expected to see someone else about to be wrapped in his deadly clutches perhaps. But all he saw, instead, was a lot of lights and people and a blue beam with something large and cylinder in it. He saw his hands next. He reached them up to touch his face and they answered him. His face was skin. It was smooth and a little warm. There was no leather or metal. He wasn't wearing a gas mask.

"Y/N!" He turned in time to be rammed into by a smaller blonde. Her hair went into his face and he felt both panic and relief.

"You- you can't touch me. Rose what have you done?" He demanded rather harshly.

She shook her head, her body shaking as she sobbed. "You're cured, Y/n. You're all better. The Doctor - he figured it out. A brilliant man, he is. Truly brilliant."

Allowing himself a moment to process that, Y/n stayed quiet and just hugged Rose for a second. Once it did settle, though, he needed to know something. "Is the Doctor okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine." Rose and Y/n parted, turning their gazes to land on the Doctor himself. The man was grinning, his eyes light up with joy.

Y/n grinned back. "Guess you're not getting rid of me that easily, Doctor."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," the Doctor replied. He slipped his screwdriver in his pocket. "On we go, then. There's one more thing we have to do before we can celebrate." And just like that, Y/n was okay and not dead and they were all together. Things had been said that they were ignoring for now, because none of them could acknowledge them. Not yet. Right now, they had more important things.

At least that's how they reasoned it. Easier that way. Much, much easier.

"I'm sorry, we'd be sending you to your death?" Y/n demanded.

"Yes," the Slitheen responded.

The Doctor turned to face the man who looked about ready to blow a circuit. "Y/n, I know how you feel. Trust me, I do. We all do. But-"

"No buts!" Y/n argued. "She just wants to be free! Her whole family was killed and she had to run away or die with them. Can you imagine what it would be like to have to run, knowing everyone you care about would be gone? Being helpless to save them, because you messed with the wrong planet? Because you do what you always did. What you were TAUGHT to do?"

That seemed to hit a chord with the Doctor. "It doesn't matter, Y/n. It doesn't!" The Doctor shot again when Y/n went to argue. "She would have killed everyone here without a second thought. What are we supposed to do? She almost destroyed this entire planet for a bit of money, and then AGAIN just to get off of it and go somewhere else. Every single life on Earth, GONE, because she wanted a lift somewhere else."

Y/n looked away. "I can't do this one with you, then. I- I know it's necessary. I know you have to do it. I can't sit by and let you though, so I'm going to leave." He turned on Margaret then. "If you hurt him, I will destroy you, do you understand me? These people are MY family, and if you hurt them I will hunt you down and I tie you up and stick a needle in you and I will pump your body full of vinegar - do I make myself clear?"

Margaret looked scared... and a little impressed. "Yes sir." She looked to the Doctor as Y/n walked away. "You found your soulmate, eh?"

The Doctor didn't answer as far as Y/n knew. It was a relief to know that even if the Doctor had responded, Y/n hadn't been there to hear it.

He did manage to stay away a very long time. He only came back when the Earth under his feet began to crack and the lights went crazy and the sky began to glow and everything began to shake. He couldn't stay at home when things were going to wrong. When Rose and the Doctor and Jack could be dying. So Y/n raced back to the TARDIS, reaching it just as everything began to calm down. He pushed open those doors, praying that it wasn't the calm before the storm and the world was about to end.

When he opened the doors, he saw something he wasn't expecting. Te Doctor stood, Rose and Jack on either side of him, an egg in his hand. "What's that?"

Grinning, the Doctor hefted the thing as Y/n entered the TARDIS, closing the doors behind him. "This is Margaret." When Y/n was rightfully confused, the Doctor explained. He recounted the nights' adventures up until Margaret had looked into the heart of the TARDIS and had reverted to what she was now. "She told me..." The Doctor looked at Y/n with a soft look in his eyes. "She told me to tell you thank you. Before she died."

Y/n smiled to himself. "Well, she's welcome." Then he turned away. "Now, let's get her home shall we?"

"You want us to face those things with guns? There are six of us."

"Actually," The Doctor piped up. "Rose, Y/n, can you help me strip these wires? The faster we do it the sooner I can get this done."

"Uh, sure," Rose agreed, heading over to where the Doctor was crouched.

"Four of us," the woman corrected herself. Y/n hadn't caught her name yet. He made a mental note to do so when they gunned down the Daleks together later. Because he had seen something in the Doctor when he asked for help. Something that made Y/n suspicious.

"Five actually." Everyone looked at Y/n in surprise. "If we're arguing our need for time, Rose can help here and I can help keep those things from getting here for as long as possible. Maybe-" He stopped himself. "Maybe I can take down enough to make them not a threat at all." It was a joke that fell short, but one that made everyone offer at least a small smile. The Doctor went to argue, and that's when Y/n got serious. "I can't stay up here and strip wires when people are dying, Doctor. I won't."

The Doctor seemed to have pain in his eyes. "I can't stop you, can I?" He was begging Y/n. Desperately pleading for him to stay there. To do as the Doctor wanted him to.

This time, Y/n wasn't going to though. His arm was still bleeding and his other leg had a limp from his game. Y/n had looked death in the face twice now and avoided it. He figured he was on borrowed time anyway. Even if that wasn't true, Jack had saved Y/n's life. He had been the one to find Y/n and pull him out of that game right before he died. If they were all going to die anyway - or, at least, most of them - he would be by Jack's side to repay that debt. "You can't."

Once again, the Doctor and Y/n exchanged a look they both believed would be the last they shared. Ever since Y/n had been turned into one of the empty people when they met Jack, the Doctor had been significantly more protective of Y/n. Y/n was a man though and had been staying firm when he made his mind up, no matter how much the Doctor tried.

"Not at all?" The Doctor tried again.

Y/n smiled. "You know, Doctor. I've been pretty obedient until recently. I didn't stray too far or wander off, because I chose to stay behind and let you know where Rose had gone and that she was okay. Or that she wasn't. I did what you wanted me to. And then I died, and I realized that there is more important thing to life than sitting back and letting you take control just because you know more than I do. This is my choice, and I'm making it."

After a second, the Doctor nodded and Y/n took off with Jack and the others, headed to face the Daleks with a bunch of guns.

Y/n did help some. He watched each and every person on the Station die, and he ended up pressed against a wall with Jack at his side and Daleks charging the pair without hesitation. He had lost. But he had helped, even if it wasn't nearly enough to make a difference.

"Go ahead and warn the Doctor they're coming," Jack ordered. He spoke again before Y/n could argue. "I'll hold them off. I know you don't want to, but the Doctor needs warning, and I... I don't want see you die. Not again."

Pain flared in Y/n's chest then. "You're a good man, Jack."

"Thanks, but we don't have time for one of your goodbye speeches." Jack scoffed at himself. "You know, I did always want one though."

Y/n laughed, tears in his eyes. Why did he always end up here? "How about I give you a kiss on the cheek and you can return it later? I can give you that goodbye speech another day, when we have time."

Jack paused, and then nodded. "I'd like that." So Y/n kissed him on the cheek and then ran when the Daleks turned the corner, feeling his heart drop when the tell tale sign of death hit Y/n's ears in the form of Jack's scream. They'd both known this was what was going to happen. Y/n would never get that kiss, and Jack would never get that speech, but it had been nice that they'd parted holding onto that impossibility. Y/n hoped it had been what Jack was thinking when he died.

Unfortunately, Y/n didn't have much time to lament about it. "Doctor!" He ran into the room, stopping in the doorway. Y/n knew about the delta wave, and he knew what was about to happen. He knew why the Doctor had wanted Y/n and Rose to stay. Y/n had gone though, and now he was going to die with the rest of them. He wouldn't have it any other way. First, he needed to say something though. "Doctor, last time I faced death, I said something that we never talked about again. But we've had even more time together now and after all the regret I had last time, I- I can't die again without telling you-"

"I know," the Doctor said, interrupting. "I hate death confessions. I always have. It's not fair, you know. Telling me something like that and then running off and dying before I can do anything about it."

Even now, the Doctor was making jokes. Dear lord. "I came back, though. And you didn't do anything about it." Y/n huffed in amusement. "You never would have, huh?"

The Doctor swallowed. "This would always been the end, Y/n. At the best, you would have gotten older. You would have moved on. I can't... I can't."

Y/n nodded. "I know. I understand. I really do, Doctor. And with Rose too - I can't imagine that ever getting settled. But I need you to know-" But Y/n didn't get to finish his sentence, because there was that horrible sound and Y/n's scream and then everything went black. Except this time, he wasn't unconscious.

He was dead. Y/n was dead. As dead as it gets.

Death and Y/n didn't see to get along though, because only a few minutes later Y/n was gasping back to life, scrambling on the floor. He was disoriented and confused, but he saw a bright light and heard distant but familiar voices. He crawled around to get a better view without the large silver things he couldn't quite focus his vision on just yet. What he saw was Rose Tyler and the Doctor and the TARDIS. The Doctor kissed Rose and a light, far brighter than Y/n had seen anything be, traveled between the two of them and Rose fell.

"Doctor?" Y/n croaked.

The Doctor turned in surprise to see Y/n on the floor. "You were dead."

Y/n shrugged, his head spinning. "I feel... sick now. Just sick." His eyes fell to Rose. "I- Is she dead?"

"No," the Doctor reassured. "We need to go though. Come along, will you? We have lots to talk about." Y/n nodded, wobbling to his feet and then into the TARDIS as the Doctor scooped Rose up and set her on the floor of the TARDIS. He began to pilot the ship and as it set a course for what Y/n assumed was London, the Doctor turned on Y/n. He looked a little shaken. The glowing seemed to be moving under his skin, shimmering. But now it didn't seem beautiful, as it had before. It seemed wrong. Definitely dangerous. "Explain yourself."

"I... don't know."

The Doctor looked at Rose. "Ah." He looked back. "It seems I'm the one who has explaining to do." Again he glowed and the Doctor teetered, wincing in pain. "A... lot of explaining, it seems."

Y/n, worried and very confused and a little terrified, nodded. "Get on with it then. We don't have all day."

"Well... I don't," The Doctor agreed. "But I will. Or... you will, with someone else."

Y/n's breathing got heavier. "Doctor-"

"Y/n," the Doctor interrupted, moving close and taking Y/n's face between his hands. "Beautiful, empathetic, caring, protective Y/n. You've gotten your goodbye speeches, let me have mine."

And then the Doctor kissed Y/n, just like he had Rose. Except there was no light or glow, just a kiss. When they parted, it was because the Doctor groaned in pain. A pain that seemed to be growing. "Doctor?" Y/n rushed, scrambling to help the man stand.

The Doctor didn't ever get to say he loved Y/n back, but that kiss had said enough. It didn't really matter though, because it was then that Rose woke up. Then that everything would change forever. Not too much, but plenty enough. The Doctor changed. Changed into someone more controlled and reserved. Someone who couldn't express emotions as well as he could before. Y/n had changed too, though he didn't know that yet. He had changed into someone the Doctor couldn't accept.

To say, things were about to get really fucking complicated.

"He says that the yellow girl and her companion have the blue box, so they are the only ones able to speak for this planet."

"You can't," Harriet Jones, now Prime Minister, insisted.

"Someone has to be the Doctor," Rose began.

Whatever she was going to say was cut off by Y/n stepping forward though. No one questioned it. This entire time, Y/n had been the one who had seemed to have any idea on what to do. He didn't have much more a grip than Rose did, but what he did have was just enough that everyone seemed to naturally be stepping back to give him the reigns in the Doctor's place. Y/n stepped up and faced an alien race he had no idea how to defeat with no fear on his face. Maybe it was that the man had died twice now, or that his friends were in danger and nothing made Y/n more hostile than facing down people who threatened his friends. Y/n was different than the boy that had agreed to come along on a journey of a life time to make sure Rose was safe. Not so different that he didn't have mercy, but different enough that he not only didn't tolerate people who were willing to harm others, but he was willing to destroy them for the greater good. To protect those who could not protect themselves. That didn't stop him from pitying wasted life, but it did stop him from hesitating.

"Why do you want to kill humans?" Y/n demanded. The Sycorax leader faced Y/n down, but Y/n didn't step back even a little bit. He said something to Y/n, and the agents by Harriet translated.

"He says humans are simple and meaningless. They need to be conquered. They-"

"Now you stop right there," Y/n interrupted. Everyone behind Y/n and everyone in the crowd seemed to react to that. The people in fear, and the crowd in anger. It seemed no one liked that Y/n had interrupted the alien leader that was perfectly capable of killing. But Y/n didn't care about that. He needed to think, and he needed time to do that, and he was absolutely not about to let this monster conquer his planet without fighting back. He didn't know much or think as fast as the Doctor, but he could figure it out. He could figure SOMETHING out. Because he had to. "This planet isn't filled with a bunch of idiots. We may have a few bad eggs. We may make choices that are so incredibly daft, but we're incredible as well. We learn and grow and continue without being stopped. We defy death, even. We defy logic and reason. We're harder to wipe out than a hoard of roaches. We stick around and fight back. You can try your hardest to pin us under your thumb, or kill us off when we refuse, but it'll never be over and even if you do win this battle. Even if you do take this planet now. We will come back in such force that you will wish you had never made the mistake of messing with us. And it may not be now. It may not be in a decade, or several, or even a century. But it will happen, as it always does. And when it does happen, you will fear us."

"You want to be big? Then I will show you how small you are." Too late they all realized the Sycorax had spoken in English. Too late, because he flicked his staff and like a whip, a coil of electricity shot out and attached to Y/n's chest. He screamed and fell to a knee and his friends screamed behind him, but when the electricity left, Y/n was... fine.

Chaos erupted from the crowd. Y/n stood slowly, even his friends behind him whispering in chatter that sounded... fearful. What had just happened?

"SILENCE!" The Sycorax screamed. The crowd begrudgingly went hush, but a small voice from behind Y/n spoke up still.

"You should be dead. I watched him kill them with that- that- staff. You should be dead."

"And I'm not," Y/n brought up rather pointlessly. He sounded far more calm than he meant to though, so there was that.

The Sycorax leader stumbled back in obvious fear. Y/n stood taller. "That's impossible."

"It should be," A voice that was growing familiar spoke up. The small crowd behind Y/n parted and there stood the new man who was the Doctor but also wasn't. That man strutted forward, an expression on his face that was sort of bitter sweet, but leaning more bitter. "It doesn't sit well with me either, if I'm honest."

"Took you long enough," Y/n mumbled under his breath.

"Better late than never," the man shot back. And that was when Y/n saw the Doctor. If a bit more rude and quicker to respond... still the Doctor.

Long story short, the Doctor handled things as he always did. After Y/n's show of immunity to the Sycorax's one hit kill staff, there wasn't much work to do. There was calling the bluff of what turned out to be blood control, which couldn't go as far as the Sycorax said it could. And then there was the sword fight that was brought about by some law or another, but also threatened to happen because if the Sycorax leader didn't agree, the Doctor would "release" Y/n on him. It ended with the Doctor victorious, and Sycorax ship sailing off as the humans left all returned to the ground with the TARDIS.

Then, as they were running away, Harriet Jones shot them down with a beam from a group she called Torchwood, and killed them while their backs were turned.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?" Y/n roared, rushing to the smaller woman. Harriet was suddenly shaking, faced with a man who seemed to be repelling death like it was a light cold and he had work to get to. "They were running away!"

"They could come back," she insisted rather quietly.

"They couldn't," The Doctor argued, standing just behind Y/n, at his side. "The fight - it was agreed. I won, Earth is free from them."

Harriet scoffed. "He attacked you the second you turned your back, and his people will surely do the same." Y/n flared but Harriet seemed to find her courage then. "You weren't there, Doctor. And you will not always be there. Y/n did a very good job of taking your place, but he won't always be here either. One day we will be faced with an enemy we cannot take down with a simple sword fight, and you may not be there to help."

"I should have told them to run from the monster," The Doctor sneered. "I should have told them to run as far and as fast as they could, because the real monster was sitting there, waiting for the moment to strike."

Harriet solidified herself. "I was there when that staff killed two good men. Right in front of me, and I could do nothing to stop it. I won't be helpless ever again. I have people to protect."

There was quiet for a moment, and then the Doctor stepped in front of Y/n, who had been stunned by such stupidity and selfishness that he was struck dumb. "You know, humans are so simple. I can end you entire career without lifting a single finger. I could do it without much trouble. Without even lifting one finger, all your hard work. Gone."

"Stop it," Harriet demanded, that fear from before returning.

"Six words," the Doctor stated calmly.

"Stop," Harriet hissed, coming undone by his terrifying calm.

"Just six words." And then he moved... but not to Harriet. He moved to the last man left that seemed to work with Harriet, and he leaned close and whispered something in the man's ear. Then he leaned away and turned around and walked away, hands in his pockets and face empty of regret or emotion in general. Harriet panicked behind them, begging the Doctor and the man the Doctor had spoken to tell her something. Anything. But she never got her answer.

Not in the way she wanted.

When they were away from her, Y/n rounded on the Doctor. "I'm still alive, and she said I shouldn't be."

The Doctor sighed. "When Rose looked into the heart of the TARDIS, she... brought you back. Honestly, I knew, and I saw, but I was in shock and in pain because I was dying and I was too scared to leave you behind. Far, far more scared of losing you than I was of what you had become."

Y/n looked as if he'd been slapped. "What do you mean, what I've become? You don't want me anymore?"

"That's the thing isn't it?" The Doctor sighed. "Rose doesn't even know. She forgot everything. And you weren't alive to see it. To get back to me, to us, she looked into the heart of the TARDIS. Like when Margaret became an egg. She looked and she gained immeasurable power. Power over time and space, completely. Over life, even. All she had to do was set your existence through out all time and space, and you're alive. But she didn't know how to hone it, so now you'll... probably always be alive. You can't die, I'd reckon."

"At all?" Y/n squeaked.

The Doctor shrugged. "There's no knowing for sure unless we test it, but if back there means anything, I'd say that no, you can't die. I'd even bet you can't age."

Y/n let out a breath. "So I'll be this age, alive, forever?"

"I'd say so," the Doctor confirmed. There was a moment of silence. "I feel guilty."

"Why?" Y/n asked, looking up from where his eyes had dropped.

A soft sigh escaped the Doctor then. "I'm glad of it." Y/n rose a questioning eyebrow, and the Doctor continued. "I've never been able to be really with someone before. I knew they'd go eventually. They die or move on or grow too old for this life, or get torn up by the life style or they're stolen from me. You... you're different, though. Humans age and get old, but I regenerate. I mean, a relationship like that would be one sided. Eventually I'd be alone again. But you don't age, or die, and I'm sitting here in a predicament where I just so happen to be in love with you." He released a breath, as if the words had been weighing him down. "It's so much easier to say that knowing I may actually not lose you."

Slowly, a smile rose to Y/n's face. "Well, if you don't already know I love you too I might have to kick your ass right here and now."

The Doctor released a shaky sort of laugh. After a second, he looked away, his smile fading. "Y/n, there's something you need to know about me."

Y/n sucked in a breath and released it again sharply, his hands fidgeting. "What about?"

"I've had a lot of companions, and I have lost every single one. Rose and you aren't the first, even though you two are... different." He shook his head. "But I had something real before this life. I had a family. I was a father. A husband. I had a life. And it was all taken from me."

For a second, Y/n didn't seem to know what to say. But then he found it, and whispered very gently, "Doctor, I'm weird. I don't... I don't fall in love, really. It's unusual for me to do so. I've only ever fancied one person other than you. I've never taken much to romance and it's never seemed important to me. Like you, the first person I felt like this for... they understood this feeling too. Their father died in a war and mother in childbirth and they spent their whole life being passed from person to person and never having a family or a home. This isn't my first time, though I will say that it is my second. I do know one thing though. If you need time to work this out. If you need something I can't fill... What I mean to say is, I'm happy when you're happy. I'm not asking you to marry me, or start a family with me or whatever. I'm not asking for an immediate serious relationship. Just because we feel the way we do about each other doesn't mean we have to limit ourselves to those feelings. I know you've felt love like this many times, and I know that... you may feel it again in the future, or even now." He shrugged it away. "I know this is going to take time. But I want you to know that I'm not going anywhere. Ever, it seems. That you can count on. Everything else... As long as you come back to me at the end of the day, I don't care about everything else."

And then the Doctor did something splendid. He kissed Y/n. And Y/n did something even greater. He kissed back.

It was a great kiss. One of many. Because this journey? It had only just begun!

Male readers: @sheepfather

#dr who #ninth doctor #tenth doctor #dr who imagine #dr who x reader #dr who x male reader #ninth doctor imagine #ninth doctor x male reader #ninth doctor x reader #tenth doctor imagine #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x male reader #male reader #dr who fanfic #dr who angst

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fallen029 · 3 years

Text

Poison

They'd been dating, off and on, for about six months. Laxus had been laid up some, from a rough job, but also had the misfortune of running through most of his usual dates. Which was fine. Left with all the time in the world to heal up, he was more than game to find more, well, game.

But this didn't necessarily come to fruition.

It was weird.

Mirajane Strauss was quite clearly attractive.

Only a blind man would deny it.

But there were many attractive women in their guild. Too many, almost. And while he liked to flirt around the edge with some of them, most weren't really worth his time.

Or, uh, well...interested in him, if he could allow his ego to admit it (he typically couldn't).

Still, Mira was someone that he had something of a rapport with, a thing he lacked with many of the other women. She seemed to be feeling rather disappointed for him, saddled with a broken bone, and intent on brightening his spirits. When she had a break in her work, she would frequently linger around his table, making their same small talk as usual, and Laxus found himself enjoying it more than he usually would.

Things were nice in the beginning.

But the beginning was over too soon.

He stuck around too long one night, drinking, and Mira insisted he stay the night at the guildhall, else he risk, in his drunk stupor, injuring himself further on the walk home with his crutches. This was innocent enough and Laxus was sure that she had no real intentions behind it, but that left him up at the hall with her, alone, watching as the barmaid closed down for the night.

"C'mon, demon," he insisted with a bit of a drunken edge to his voice. "Have at least one more shot with me, eh?"

She refused his first offer, but luckily (or un, perhaps), he made multiple.

And it only took one shot to convince Mira that yes, she should do more.

The next day was awkward, but the following wasn't nearly as much, and Laxus made some sort of a jest, over the woman taking advantage of his state, considering his broken leg and all, and Mira thought that was so very funny and maybe he got too drunk, again, to go home, and what would Mira be? Leaving a crippled man all alone in a big guildhall?

They didn't want anyone to know about them. Which was hard. Because they slowly became all either could think about. Laxus was around the hall constantly then, not just from boredom from his injury now, but with a vested interest in the head barmaid, while Mirajane seemed to suddenly find time to take a vacation day or two, and oh, didn't she deserve it? Everyone thought so.

Especially Laxus, who very much appreciated every second they were given alone together.

The woman still, for some reason Laxus couldn't quite grasp (being an only child, he found the idea of siblings frightening, especially the way the Strausses dealt with one another), lived with both her siblings. Which severely limited the places where they could go to be alone. If it wasn't the hall after hours, then it had to either be one of the seedy motels that he didn't quite want to admit the woman he might have frequented at one point in his life (or she him) or, as much as Laxus hated it, the best option of all; his apartment.

"Getting to see how the great Laxus Dreyar lives?" Mira whistled low, the first time she was welcomed to messy apartment. "Wow."

"Yeah, well, I do what I- Hey, are you mocking me?"

Mira only giggled in reply and it was fine, honestly. The more the woman found herself around, the more the apartment found itself rather clean and Laxus lost some of his reserves over keeping his bachelor pad all bottled up to himself.

Time felt different in those days.

In a way he hadn't felt it since he was a child.

He had a routine again, one that wasn't adherent to a strict training regimen or rigorous job schedule, but rather the standard workday.

When he was a boy, he would sit up at the hall, listening to stories from all the old members, waiting for his grandfather to finish up his masterly duties for the day so that they could go have some fun. It wasn't that different with Mirajane. She stopped taking double shifts and would be finished up by mid to late afternoon, with Laxus only lingering around a short amount of time after her escape, finding his own on a hobbled trek back to his apartment, where the woman would be waiting.

They weren't out having adventures. Or spending the fleeing daylight by doing anything too exotic. But it felt so, to him at least. Adventurous and exotic in it's own right, allowing such a connection, such a bond, to begin to form.

For what could have been the worst months of his life, Laxus had to tack them up there with some of the best.

It felt absurd to say, but sitting around his apartment, eating takeout and talking to Mirajane, seriously just talking sometimes or listening to her toy at her guitar… It was the most fun he'd had. The most free he'd felt.

For a man that had all the power in the world, the ability to tackle any job posted, travel the continent at will, someone being confined to the guildhall and his apartment supplied him with some actual fresh air. Or at least perspective.

He almost felt robbed of something, when it was finally time for his cast to be removed.

This wouldn't be the obvious end to things, as he would still need some time to fully regain the mobility in his leg, deal with the conditioning that he now lacked, being out of action for so long. His training, which included the Thunder Legion, now made spending time with the woman more tricky and maybe, if they were better people, they could have stopped it there.

Seen where things were headed.

But Mira always seemed to have her head stuck in the clouds and Laxus, for once, found himself too attached for once, and though the bandage had begun to be peeled back, there was still some adhesive holding fast.

So he'd just have to suck it up and finish the job.

Their time together was tight already and Laxus put it off for as long as he could, honestly, but one day when Mirajane arrived at his apartment with dinner for the two of them, he didn't have nearly the same light behind his eyes that he had in recent months. When she questioned him a bit, over dinner, when she talked a mile a minute and he just sat there, gloomily, back to his old self, maybe, only offering up nods and sighs.

The man, as was becoming rather obvious, was anything but coy.

Still, he found that he didn't quite know how to express to the woman what was eating at him. These weren't exactly the kind to seek a woman out, just to end things with her. But Mira was different. Not even necessarily from the standpoint of his feelings, but also due to her proximity whether they continued to date or not.

She was a part of Fairy Tail. At times, it felt like more so than he was. One of the main reasons for avoiding such relationships up at the hall (again, ignoring the outright disdain he cultivated among other members at time) was due simply to the fact that it would be awkward.

When things were over.

And with him things, inevitably, would find themselves coming to an end.

He wasn't a good person.

Or at least he very infrequently felt like one.

To a mate, at least.

Laxus knew for certain he was a changed man, following the events of his excommunication. Seriously. His whole outlook on life was altered. It went further than just learning to respect his grandfather or guild or the members that dwelled there. Laxus now saw the world from a perspective he'd originally rejected; everyone else's. He wasn't the only person in the guild, in the world, that mattered and while he was a big hole to fill, everyone could be replaced.

So you had to appreciate what you had while you had it.

But...he had difficulty carrying this over into the dating world. Opening up to someone was difficult and caring when someone did so to you was even harder. This was easily excusable for the man, as he found many of his faults were, because clearly he just didn't want that sort of relationship. Didn't need it.

He had the Thunder Legion. For his emotional support. They felt far closer to him than any woman ever could be. All three of him. Knew more about him than any partner ever should.

Friends were enough.

His best friends were enough.

Until...they weren't.

Those past few months, with Mirajane, well, he just hadn't felt that sort of exhilaration in a long time. He'd closed himself off to it, maybe, been so convinced he didn't need it that he never gave himself a chance to experience it.

Sometimes he saw the same woman. A lot. And then he'd just stop. Wouldn't come around as much. Go out on a long job. Not write. Avoid her when he came back to town. There weren't these big moments.

He wouldn't be able to summon up the energy for them, honestly.

"I actually wanted to talk to you," Laxus found himself reply, eventually. "About… You know, I'm pretty much healed up now."

"Oh, I know." Mira smiled over from her half of the table, still picking at her meal. "I'm so happy for you. I'm sure it's been torture being cooped up all this time."

"Not torture, no, but-"

"You're so used to traveling though," she cut him off. "It was hard for me, when I had to take a break for awhile. Hang around the bar. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love it now, but at first… It can just be a big adjustment, you know?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "I know."

Still, Mira only eyed him again before asking simply, "Are you sure you're okay? Lax? Is there something else?"

"I…"

He swallowed and almost balked. Backed out and decided not to tell her. Before he left. And come back from his job and pretend like this never happened. He imagined Mirajane, who was used to playing many different roles in her life, would give into that rather easily.

But there was something in him that didn't allow this. Something he didn't quite understand. The time he'd spent with Mirajane meant something, he knew that, and maybe for that reason he felt a duty to her, to insure that he'd at least accurately explained himself.

If only to spare her feelings all he could.

"I'm going to be gone," he decided. "For awhile, probably. I want to take a long job. And I know that we've spent a lot of time together, but-"

"Laxus," she intervened before giving him a bit of a smile. "I know."

"I- You what?"

"I," she insisted. "know. I get it, okay? We don't have to do this."

"This?"

She frowned, not quite getting why he was now the one pretending to be confused and only explained, "You're breaking up with me."

He sat there for a moment, considering what she'd said before asking, "How do you know that?'

"Because I'm not stupid, Laxus." Mira sighed some before going back to her food. "It's not like I haven't been thinking of it too."

"Thinking of what?"

"Laxus-"

"Thinking about what, Mirajane?"

"About this. This...time." She dropped her fork just to gesture vaguely with both hands. "Together. It's been...something else, but I'm dumb. I know that you're going to go back on the road and that it's over. It's okay."

"No." He felt like she'd pulled the rug out from under him. How could that be, huh? That the woman was one step ahead of him? "You can't just… I had so many things I wanted to say and-"

"You can still say them." She even shrugged a bit, but it was sadly now and he'd zapped it right out of her, that joy she'd had before. Distantly, he wondered it was all an act with him too. The whole time. Another pretend character like what she played up at the bar. He'd felt that he was getting the real her, this whole time, as he gave himself in return, but now he just felt duped. Even as she insisted, "It's not like you're leaving tonight."

Swallowing some, Laxus looked down instead, at his own meal, before asking, "What would you have done if I didn't say anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I didn't say anything, tonight, and then left next week," he questioned, "would you have still felt this way? How you do now?"

Mira was the one to pause then, but again, he could only get that sad, pitiful shrug out of the woman as she said, "I know you, Laxus. Even before this time that we've spent together. You're poison. And to a certain extent, I guess I am too. Things don't last, with others, when it comes to the two of us. I didn't have to worry about how you felt because I know, just the same as me, you get it. If anything, I'm a little disappointed you thought I'd be crushed over losing you."

The night never picked back up and Mira didn't spend it with him. Instead, they parted in his living room, not with their usual, sensual kisses and hugs, but rather the woman pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and him glancing away, somehow feeling more exposed, in this final night, than he had the entire length of their romance.

Someone else was on shift when he came by the bar, that following week, to pick up his first job back.

Just as he'd intended, it was a nice and long one. The Thunder Legion wanted to go with him, either as a group or at least one of them, individually, to scope out his readiness, but Laxus rebuked them and instead headed out alone.

It was a much a step back into his old life as it was a funeral for his former.

Or at least it started out that way.

He wanted to be sad. Over Mirajane.

At first.

And then he wanted to be angry.

To which he got really close.

Finally, he wanted to just move on.

He really seriously did.

That was the original idea, anyways, to be able to come back and for their relationship (or whatever it had been) to be old news. For Mira to go back to serving him drinks and the occasional sass while Laxus admired her, or at least her strength, and they could be friends.

Distant ones, but still closer than he was with most others in the bar.

It should have made it easier, right? That Mira seemed content with this idea too? She'd been resound, before he even got his words out, and that was just the best. For the best too. They were on the same page, even in a breakup.

This was literally the most amicable a split could ever be.

And yet…

The Thunder Legion was waiting for him, up at the guildhall, when he returned from his just over four week journey. He should have immediately set into berating them, as he was certain they'd been derelict in taking their own jobs, just to hang around, to be there for him when he got back, but he didn't have time.

He hardly even noticed them.

Honest.

Mirajane was working, back on her normal schedule actually. Which would be no off time ever because where else would she go? Than the bar? All her friends were there. Periodically. A rotating door of them, one leaving for a job only for another to appear, returning.

Lucy, in fact, was around that day, seated up at the bar. Mira had spent most of her shift there, honestly, as the celestial mage had much to share with her, after being away for a week.

She'd just been called away though, Mira had, by a waving hand and a drunk request for a refill, and she left Lucy with a smile in place of excusing herself, rushing right over to take care of the patron. It was while she was refilling the mug though that she caught it, sensed it, could feel it.

Him.

Laxus had an air about him that was difficult to dismiss, last half of the year or not.

She'd been prepping for this. Had her plastered on smile down, knew exactly what she'd say to him. Ask him politely about his trip, ask if he wanted his usual, and then use the man's no doubt unease to slink away from the situation. It would be that easy.

It should have been that easy.

Because she was banking on Laxus behaving how she envisioned. He did most of the time. The man thought that he was deep and complex, but honestly, he was just moody and predictable.

He should have wanted away from her just as much as she did him. To have avoided speaking to her, outside of the necessary first conversation, and then they could just begin hedging their lives away from one another.

But he approached her.

First.

As she was backing away from the table she'd just served, he walked right up to her, bypassing the curious Thunder Legion, and instead coming to a stop before the barmaid.

"Laxus." She wasn't that flustered and only began on her intended small talk. "How was your first-"

He kissed her.

He just took her face in his hands, stopping her predetermined greeting in a gesture that made that entire guildhall stop what they were doing. Everyone was staring, something that both Mira and Laxus were used to, when it came to magic, but neither were too public about such excessive affection. And when they broke apart, this showed by the slight tint in Laxus cheeks and Mira only turned her head from him a bit, thoroughly stumped.

"You shouldn't," she finally whispered in the otherwise silent guildhall, "kiss someone. Laxus. Like that. It's invasive."

He blinked some, the man did, but didn't take a step back. Instead, he only whispered back, "I'm sorry." When she looked ready to reply though, he only continued, "About it all. Mira. I… I shouldn't have tried to break up with you. I shouldn't have let you break up with me. Well, at least not without countering some things. Because yeah, you know, things are going to be different. From the past few months. Fine. But...why do they have to go back to how they were? Huh? Why can't they just keep being different? From then too? And we just...try? I'm not saying that I want to, like, be together forever or anything, although I'm not saying I don't want that either, I just…"

"Laxus," she tried to intervene. "We don't have to-"

"Let me finish." And he huffed a bit. Because he'd floundered before, been uncertain of the words he was looking for. Back at his apartment. But maybe that was because he wasn't meant to say them. They weren't mean to come out. He couldn't find something didn't exist. But now, ruminating for over a month on these words, this set, he knew, finally, exactly what he wanted to say. "I'm poison. Fine. If that's what you think. And maybe you are too. But… I liked being with you. More than I've liked being with literally anyone I've known in the past decade. More than I like being alone, even, and you know how much I like that! I just… I don't think we can throw something away, say that it's tainted, that it's poisoned, before it's gone bad. Why would we ever want to do that to ourselves?"

He'd felt impassioned, before, but as he let out that final breath, his chest heaved a bit. It had been so quiet in the hall, with only him speaking, that it was almost easy to pretend like they were back in those few months, when they were all alone, in the empty guild. But it wasn't empty, right now, and for once, the heavy gaze of all his guild mates was almost too much to bear.

"I was going to say," Mira began then with a bit of a frown, "that maybe we could go somewhere in private to talk this over."

Laxus blinked. Then he frowned as well. "Then why didn't you?"

"You told me to talk!"

"Mira-"

"I'll have to think about this, Laxus."

"Yeah, well-"

"Okay!" And she bounced some, having taking just a moment to turn and tap a finger against her lip before pouncing on him, the man just barely catching her in his arms as the woman decided, "I guess we can do this till we die."

"I said I didn't want to be with you forever," he complained as their dimwitted guild mates, still not entirely sure what they were witnessing, cheered, at least some of them, as this seemed like a happy enough resolution. "Demon."

"You said," she remarked simply, "that you weren't sure. And thinking that your dying signifies forever is a bit conceded, don't you think? Dragon?"

"What?"

She released him instead of explaining, remarking simply in a more hushed tone, "We talk. Alone. After hours."

The man eyed her for a moment before nodding because it was true enough. They did need to speak. Honestly. Alone.

And they would. In a few hours. When there were no other eyes and it was easier for Laxus to explain in a way that wasn't so preachy and Mira didn't have to put on her dim facade, not necessarily challenging the man, but confirming with him, in a way they'd yet to do, just how serious they each wanted this relationship to be.

Considering he'd more than outed them to the guildhall, Mira felt as if he was leaning towards very.

And as she'd given hi the fairy tale ending (at least in front of the others), Laxus imagined she wanted the same.

He slunk back off, the softening of his character not one to be trusted by any other. Only the Thunder Legion chased after him, when he left the bar for the time being, intending to return hours later, and it was just as well. It wasn't him that all the others wanted a piece of.

"Mira," Elfman complained over most everyone else. "What was that? Huh?"

But she didn't answer him, instead heading over to the bar, becoming used to the gazes it seemed, and instead only leaning over it with a sigh as she looked the blushing Lucy in the eyes.

"U-Uh, so…" The celestial mage began. "You and Laxus, huh?"

Mira nodded, but only insisted, "I wanna hear about the rest of your job. Natsu did what to the town?"

"Destroyed it," Lucy said more concisely. "But Mira-"

"Well," Mira offered with a bit of a shrug. "He is known for that."

And Lucy, still wanting all the same juicy information that all the others did, only gave in a bit, nodding as she said, "But maybe one day he'll change."

"Yeah," the barmaid agreed. "Maybe."

This is the last thing I got planned for Miraxus week. I know I got all the days jumbled up, but hey, we can only try.

#Miraxus #Miraxus Week #Day 5 Poison #Mirajane Strauss #Laxus Dreyar #Laxus #Mirajane #Mira #Fairy Tail #Fanfiction

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cno-inbminor · 4 years

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adsentio

a/n: for some reason, i got the idea of prince!akaashi stuck in my head. mildly inspired by the swan princess.

wc: ~2.1k

genre: arranged marriage!au, royalty!au, emerging feelings. fluff mainly? idek, it’s word vomit

royalty!au: adsentio (pt. 1) | bonus letters (pt. 1.5) | the masque (pt. 2)

Prince Akaashi likes to believe he’s a smart cookie, even if he’s only seven. Then again, his parents aren’t exactly the most subtle people on the planet, and he believes it’s quite obvious as to what they’re planning. In fact, not only is he aware, but the whole castle is as well. Hell, even 90% of the citizens in the kingdom are fully aware of what’s to be expected. He strongly dislikes it, and he wishes it didn’t loom over him every summer.

Ever since the summer of the year he turned five, Princess (y/n) of the West Kingdom would show up for two months to make his life miserable. To be fair, it wasn’t exactly your fault, as you were very much forced into this arrangement as he was, but it was easier to blame you. He’d rather just play fight with Bokuto all summer rather than try to include a girl. It’s not because you’re capable of kicking his butt.

That is absolutely not the case here.

His mother, the queen, is scrambling to get all the preparations done in time for (y/n)’s arrival. Akaashi almost rolls his eyes when he spots her rearranging a bouquet of roses in the dining hall. Unfortunately, she spots him from the corner of her eye and beckons him over with a frantic hand. Never one to deny a parent, he quickly jogs over to her.

“Oh darling, would you be a doll and check in on your father? He needs to be dressed properly for the West Kingdom’s arrival. Tell him to wear that cyan blue shirt of his, it’s much more flattering.”

“Do we need to be so overboard like this again? They’ve already been here twice, it’s not like they don’t know us.”

“For reasons you don’t know, they’re extra special to us. Aren’t you excited to see (y/n) again? You two got along so well last summer!”

Akaashi wrinkles his nose in distaste. “It feels like I just saw her yesterday. Bokuto and I just wanna play by ourselves.”

“Nonsense, dear. Now go check on your father, please,” His mother implores before scurrying off to another bouquet of flowers.

It’s so obvious, he thinks to himself as he jogs towards his parents’ chambers. Did they really need this alliance with the West Kingdom? Would they be that much more powerful together? “In due time, you’ll understand,” his parents always said. Akaashi was starting to become tired of hearing those words.

Why is it so hard to just tell him now as to why they want him to marry Princess (y/n)?

“You know why I’m here, right?” (Y/n) asks him one evening. They’re sixteen now – Akaashi counts that this is your twelfth time at the castle. You call the castle your second home, as he once heard you tell your assigned handmaiden, the same lady who attends to you every summer. Somehow, the statement strikes a chord within him – his initial childish annoyance at your presence had long disappeared and been replaced with something akin to defeat. There was very little chance that they could run from this, but in the late nights, Akaashi found himself believing that if there were someone to be betrothed to, (y/n) wasn’t so bad.

“What do you mean?” He replies, slowly turning a page in his book. You both found that one way to quickly pass the time was to raid the royal library. At first, it was custom to read your respective books at opposite ends of the castle. Yet as time passed, you found yourselves meeting closer and closer towards the middle. If desired, the servants could find you two either together in the library, in an empty ballroom by the massive windows, or on the balcony in the summer sun. Most times, Bokuto, Akaashi’s most loyal friend, was with you as well. Reading wasn’t necessarily one of his top hobbies, but he’d rather be with friends than alone wondering around the castle.

This time, the two of you have taken refuge by a fireplace, a terrible thunderstorm casting a chill over the building. Bokuto is conveniently off doing his own thing.

“The reason why I’m here every summer.”

Akaashi casts his best exasperated look towards you, but it goes unnoticed as you refuse to look away from your book. “I’ve known since I was six.”

You sigh and gently shut your novel closed, one finger stuck between the pages to keep your place. With the grace of an angel (Akaashi thinks), you pick yourself up from the lounge chair and drift over to the couch he’s sitting on. Because he’s sitting upright towards the end closest to the fire, there’s more than enough space for you to sit and stretch your legs across the cushions. In fact, you do just that, settling for leaning your back against Akaashi’s strong side profile, his arm supporting most of your weight. Without meaning to, Akaashi finds himself adjusting his sitting position for your comfort. He feels your body tremble slightly and a small wave of concern washes over him.

“Should I ask one of the servants to bring a blanket for you?”

“That won’t be necessary. But thank you for your concern, your highness.”

“You don’t have to address me as so.”

“My apologies, it’s a force of habit.”

“Hmm.”

Akaashi has long given up on reading the words before him. Your question repeats in his head like a broken record.

“Doesn’t it frustrate you?” You whisper, interrupting his thoughts. “Doesn’t it anger you that since my birth, you’ve been forced into a game that you have no choice but to play?”

Akaashi hesitates. This topic has never been broached before, and he’s not sure how to address it.

“I’ll admit it was more frustrating in the beginning. Nobody enjoys being told what to do, especially when you’re little. But I learned to just accept it. In fact, to call it a game would assume that there is a losing side. From what I’ve studied, both of our kingdoms would benefit from this merger. What’s the loss?”

“Our freedom and choice,” you bite out, yet refusing to look at him. You’ve also given up on reading, yet you don’t want to arouse suspicion that this conversation is happening. If a servant were to hear, rumors would fly around the castle like a plague. “I think it’s only human that I want to experience love the way ordinary people do. We don’t even get a say.”

“What about both of our parents? They were arranged yet they love each other.”

“Simple, they got lucky.”

“Then would you rather run away and find another man to fall in love with?”

“More than that, I just want to experience life beyond the castle walls. My position is different from yours.”

“How so?”

You purse your lips, pausing. “Your Highness, what do you think would happen to you if I were to disappear, or god forbid, die?”

Akaashi’s eyes widen in bewilderment. “Why would you ask that?”

“You just need to answer my question.”

“Well,” he ponders. “I…believe I’d be somewhat sad. We would mourn the loss, surely.”

For the first time this summer, he hears a genuine chuckle from you. “I’m honored by your sentiment, your highness. I’m asking more of what you think would politically happen to you.”

Akaashi’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I guess…politically I’d be okay. Mother would be devastated, but I guess they’d find me another match. The merger with your kingdom would’ve been our strongest move, but it could still happen since we’re already on such good speaking terms. Supposedly there are other princesses waiting for a chance, and a merger could result from that as well.”

“What a humble braggart you are, your highness,” you tease.

“That’s not what I meant—”

“I know. But in all seriousness,” you switch to a more solemn tone. “The point is, you’d be okay. As you so nicely put it, you have women lining up to be with you.”

“Aren’t men lining up to be with you as well?”

“It’s not the same, Your Highness. As a princess, I’m brought up to constantly prove my worth to others. More importantly, I’m raised to prove my worth as a wife and a queen. We’re left to care for the children we must bear, we must keep our noses a reasonable distance away from kingdom business. If this engagement were to break, many outsiders would automatically assume that I was deemed unworthy of you, that I must’ve wrapped myself in some horrible scandal.”

Akaashi hums and stares into the fire. “I suppose that it’s rather unfortunate. I wish I had realized that sooner.”

“Your self-awareness speaks volumes. I usually wouldn’t admit this to you, but I know you’ll be a great king when it’s your time. Your people already love you, and they will only continue to love you more.”

“That’s very kind of you, Princess.”

“I only speak honestly. There’s no need to sugarcoat my words around you.”

Somehow, Akaashi finds that very comforting. Perhaps as someone in his position, he would consider honesty and wisdom to be valuable. Just because he’s destined to be king someday, doesn’t mean he would always make the right decisions. He would appreciate having you by his side in his decision-making.

“If this happens,” Akaashi finds himself speaking, also not one for beating around the bush. “I can promise now that I’ll try to change that. Even if we end up never loving each other, I’ll do my best to ensure that you never feel confined to such a role. As my w-wife,” he stumbles over the word. “I would want your input. You have a good head on you, and I’m sure you have valuable wisdom that I will need in due time.”

“Somehow, that’s the most romantic thing a man has ever said to me,” you say. He can hear the smile in your voice, his own small one forming on his face. When you move off the couch, his body immediately misses the warmth of your body pressed against his. After you’re done dusting yourself off, you begin to curtsy. He knows that this means you’re retiring for the night, but he’d rather you not leave right now.

“Wait,” he calls out, reaching for the hand not holding your book. You stay silent as Akaashi delicately holds your hand, then breaking out into a slight blush when he lays a soft kiss on the back of your hand, eyes never breaking contact with yours. He’s never been more princely to you than this moment – though his mother had made him do this on every first day you arrive at the castle, it never held so much meaning. This was of his own doing, his own volition, and that spoke volumes to you. He was trying to make this work in his own special way.

You don’t miss the way his thumb ghosts over your knuckles before releasing your hand, although the movement seems hesitant and troubled. “Good night, Princess,” he bids quietly, eyes looking back at the ignored book in his lap. Your heart beats with adrenaline, the chemical fueling you to step closer to him and bend down to place a kiss on his cheek. Akaashi does his best to not look surprised, but he knows that he has failed when he hears the sound of your gentle laugh.

“Good night, Keiji.”

The prince concludes right then and there that he has never heard anything more beautiful.

When you return to your chambers the next night, it’s hard to miss the most beautiful glass vase you’ve seen that’s sitting on your dresser. Inside stands a half-bloomed peony, a flower you recognize from the castle gardens. The petals have a tender shade of a light blush pink – if the flower-arranging lessons taught you anything, they stood for romance, compassion, and bashfulness. A neatly folded cardstock with your name stands demurely by the vase. The handwriting is strikingly familiar, and you can’t help but smile at the words neatly written inside.

To my future queen.

As you bring the flower to your nose and inhale the sweet scent, you begin to think that perhaps, you and Akaashi might just be lucky enough for love.

feel free to send requests for this au!

#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#akaashi fluff #akaashi haikyuu #akaashi keiji #haikyu fluff #haikyuu fluff #akaashi imagine #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji x you #adsentio #akaashi scenarios #keiji #akaashi #got a little..preachy? idk #so sorry!

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astralsweetness · 4 years

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Set my soul on fire (make me wild) || Hui/Reader (M)

➣ I was originally going to write a LOT more smut (I had so much planned that I never got to!!! ugh).. Maybe I’ll have to do a part 2 or something 👀 the amount of time i spent looking at pics of his studio just so that one scene would be accurate is insane Title from the song ‘Queen of Disaster’. Very briefly proof-read, so please feel free to inform me of typos!

➣ Hui/Reader | Hui drunkenly kisses the reader without explicit consent but owns up to it bcs I’m tired of every other fic that includes this trope just glossing over it | Smut warnings include: masturbation, fingering, hair-pulling (implied), biting (mostly implied), oral + snowballing, slight pain/masochism (implied), some humiliation/degradation + some praise, referenced submissive headspace, and all of them apply to Hui lmao. Also it’s mentioned that Hui isn’t strictly heterosexual and if that bothers you then idk what to tell you

➣ “He is hanging off your every word and you suddenly feel like you have a choice to make - it’s one you don’t think about for more than a second, because you realize that you don’t need to.”

Hui knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you had completely ruined his life just by existing in it.

It wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily. The feeling he got whenever you smiled at him, for example, was definitely not a bad thing. The way his skin tingled whenever you brushed against him was.. bothersome, but not a bad thing. The way his heart sped up and beat almost painfully hard whenever he indulged in his regular skinship with you wasn’t particularly bad, but he’d stopped doing that recently just as a preservation strategy so he didn’t die in the next year from a heart attack. (He was a naturally touchy person, and he wasn’t completely sure how he felt at having to stop that with you specifically.)

The way his mind constantly drifted to thoughts of you was starting to become an issue though, as was how he tensed up whenever you got even moderately close to him. You’d started to notice, and he had no idea how to tell you that it was happening because of that one time the rest of the boys had ‘accidentally’ forced the two of you to be pressed against one another in an elevator, and that just the knowledge that your breasts were pressing against his arm had him fighting to not get hard like some sort of teenager. He wasn’t totally sure how successful he’d be the next time if something similar happened.

Still, you were, as far as he was concerned, completely unattainable, and that in itself was a problem. He’d experienced his fair share of heartaches and heartbreaks before, but this was.. different. At least in those circumstances he’d gotten a definitive answer.

With you though, he couldn’t even bring himself to ask, had resigned himself to pining over you like a kid with a crush.

If you hadn’t ruined his life then you sure as hell had made it harder.

.｡..｡.

When Hui gets a knock on his studio door around six pm he’s not particularly surprised – lately his members had taken to dropping in to make sure he had eaten something that day. (Usually he had not.)

He is surprised to see you standing alongside Yuto when he opens the door, so he glances at the maknae suspiciously – Yuto seems perfectly innocent, but Hui wasn’t exactly sure how much of that was an act.

“Hyung, did you eat today?” The younger boy holds up a bag as an offering – it doesn’t look like the regular convenience store food the boys would usually grab for him, so Hui accepts it hesitantly.

“I was originally just going to bring food for Hyunggu, since he was apparently starving in his studio or something, but then he mentioned that you never ate either, so..” You’re looking at him like you’re vaguely disappointed, and it makes a funny feeling tighten in his chest so he pretends to be completely absorbed with looking through the bag. He’s not sure where you got the food from, but it was mostly stuff that he actually liked. “I went to a place Hyunggu wanted, but he told me what he thought you’d like from there – I hope he was right.”

“This – you didn’t have to do this.” It’s nice not being the one buying things for once, he has to admit that to himself, but he still felt a bit bad that you’d felt the need to bring him anything at all. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re right, I didn’t have to. I wanted to – just like I wanted to bring Yuto food too when Hyunggu told me he was also here.” You’ve perched on the edge of his small leather couch and he wonders if you’d ever been in here before – he honestly can’t remember, though with how hyper-aware he was of you it was pretty safe to assume you hadn’t been. Yuto’s lingering near the door quietly, watching you and he interact, and he feels like the younger is analyzing what was happening.

“Thank you for it – I should go eat it now, while it’s still warm.” Yuto’s gentle bass of a voice is almost soothing, but Hui shoots him a look anyway because he suddenly knew what was happening. His maknaes were downright masterminds when it came to plans like this, and he can’t think of any way to get Yuto to stay before you bid him a cheerful goodbye as the Japanese boy smiles at the both of you as he carefully closes the door.

“Should I go too? I don’t want to distract you or be a bother or anything.” Your question is so sincere that he just looks at you for a few moments, tries to figure out a way to say ‘Yes, you do distract me and bother me, but definitely not in the way you’re thinking’. He finally settles on a single head shake, clearing a small portion of one of his desks to place the food on.

“Did you already eat?”

“No, but I’m fine.” Your answer is quiet, and he glances over to see you gazing around his studio – he feels vaguely embarrassed, though he’s not particularly sure why. His studio is remarkably small, it’s true, but he’s not actually ashamed of anything in it.

“You’ve never been in here before?” He’s pretty sure you haven’t, but there’s no harm in confirming it. You’d been focused intently on reading the names on his soccer jerseys, but once he speaks you turn all that intense concentration on to him and his mouth goes dry.

“Nope. Not that I remember, anyway, and I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.” You’re smiling at him and he doesn’t know why that’s something you’d remember, but your smile makes him not really care about the particulars. “Now eat, Hui.”

He raises his eyebrows at the parental tone you’ve adopted but says nothing, knowing there was no way he could get out of it now – and honestly, he didn’t really want to. He was really fucking hungry, and the meat you’d brought him smelled delicious.

It’s only as he’s taking his first bite (which is excellent by the way, Hyunggu apparently had a very good taste in restaurants) that he remembers what you said about not eating and makes a stupid split-second decision. (He’s never been one to think about things like this too much before blindly doing them, which was probably a problem, come to think of it.)

“Here –“ He holds the strip of bulgogi out towards you, one hand underneath, the sound of his heartbeat a constant background theme song. “Say ‘ah’~” And it’s so easy to pretend, to act like he’s just being friendly, to tinge everything he says with a bit of aegyo – you roll your eyes at him but accept the food anyway.

It’s not easy to ignore the intimacy of an act like this, to ignore the way he’s hit with a sudden yearning deep in his chest to be able to feed you food whenever, like a real significant other could.

“Thank you, but no more! This food is for you.”

“Okay, okay.”

The silence that slips back afterwards is mostly comfortable – you seem determined to make sure he eats, so while he does so you go back to gazing around his studio. Hui feels like there really wasn’t that much to look at, but you hadn’t looked bored yet, taking in the contents of his desk and then computer monitor. He realizes belatedly that he still had the windows open for some of their unreleased tracks, but when he glances at you again you’ve already moved on from them, so he leaves them where they are.

“Are you still seeing that one guy?” It’s easy conversation, light and carefree even if the topic makes him feel a bit bitter – as much as the knowledge of you seeing other people ate away at him he knows it would bother him more if you didn’t feel comfortable talking with him about it at all. Being able to be a close friend you confided in was something he cared more about than not feeling jealous.

“Oh – no, I’m not.” Your tone is carefully disinterested, but he can see through it well enough by now. Still, he doesn’t say anything, just turns so he’s fully facing you, focused and listening. “We just had a – confliction of interests I guess you could say.” You laugh softly at your wording and he laughs too, even if he doesn’t totally understand what you mean.

“And that means, what, exactly?”

“He thought women should be submissive during sex, and I disagreed.” ..Oh. Hui’s gaze darts away as he tries to process that – it wasn’t that you talking about sex was surprising. He was used to talking with you about intimately private things like this, though that was before this annoying infatuation with you had manifested into the tiresome nuisance it was now. Still, you’d never exactly stated your.. affinities towards any one thing.

“Ah.. is that so?” He sounds much hoarser than he’d meant to, like he’d choked on something – he still can’t look at you, because suddenly all he can think about is what that meant, if it meant leather and pain or lace and sweetness, if it meant scathing words or saccharine praises.

“Are you blushing?” You’re leaning forward off his couch, grinning and trying to get a look at his face, one of your hands on his knee to keep him from turning away from you - and he realizes that yes, he is fucking blushing, and the place you were touching him felt like it was blistering with heat. “Well, at least you’re not getting all upset with me for injuring your masculine pride or whatever by being a woman who doesn’t like to –“

“Okay! Okay okay, please take mercy on me!” His slightly exaggerated whining is met with your laughter, and his face feels like it’s on fucking fire, but he can’t look away from you now that he’d accidentally met your gaze.

“Sorry – you’re just so cute when you’re flustered!” And he knows he shouldn’t take this as anything more than friendly teasing, just like whenever Hyunggu would call him ‘cute’ whenever he got scared of something, but your words still make something short-circuit in his brain and he swears to everything that you will be the death of him.

“I’m – sorry things didn’t work out with him, but you’re really going to kill me if you keep this up.” And it’s not even a lie – he is ninety-eight percent sure that if you keep talking like this without giving him time to recuperate then he was just going to over-heat and pass out.

“I should go anyway, I’ve distracted you long enough – I didn’t go too far, did I?” You’ve stood up now and are looking down at him with a worried smile, so he just shakes his head because he’s pretty sure if he tried to talk he’d say something stupid like ‘No, I definitely didn’t mind hearing you say that, and while you’re at it please tell me some more’. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Make sure you eat it all!”

He manages a “goodbye” that sounds sort of like he wasn’t dying, waving to you until you leave and his studio door beeps to signify that it was locked again.

“For fuck’s sake..” Hui forces himself to breathe deep, tries to will some of the heat to leave his face. He really didn’t know why he was getting so flustered over something like this – he wasn’t usually the type. Was it just because it was you? Because he definitely wouldn’t mind if you preferred to be dominant?

Hui curses again, a quiet ‘fuck’ that doesn’t really encompass everything he’s feeling but seems to be the best he can manage. Fuck indeed. He was so fucked.

.｡..｡.

The next time Hui’s in his studio he does his best to forget about the conversation the two of you had had last in there, tries to forget the way his entire body had lit up when you touched his leg, tries to forget the way you’d smiled so sweetly when he fed you.

It doesn’t go well.

To be honest, he didn’t do things like this often – he was busy most of the time, and if he was in his studio then he usually had something he needed to work on instead. But being in this room less than twenty-four hours after you had off-handedly mentioned that you liked to take a more dominant approach in the bedroom had him unable to concentrate on anything else, though he had made a valiant effort for an upwards of fifteen minutes.

With an agitated huff he’s pushing his chair back from his desk with more force than necessary, moving to make sure his studio’s door was locked before taking a seat on the edge of his couch. For a moment he contemplates if he’s really going to do this, runs an aggressive hand through his dyed silver hair and then curses the tingling pain it brings that he doesn’t quite hate as much as he should in the moment.

There’s a lingering feeling of shame and a much stronger feeling of embarrassment covering his body when he reaches for himself, though it only lasts for a few moments until the feeling of the rough friction of his palm through his jeans overpowers anything else.

Hui tips his head back with a soft moan before he remembers he needs to keep quiet, bites his lip when he unzips himself so he can wrap his fingers around his cock more easily. He’s rough, impatient, wants to finish fast but also likes the slight bit of pain – he full body shudders when he finally tugs the waistband of his briefs down and feels the cold air hit him, falling back onto his forearm. He knows, for a fact, that there’s a small bottle of lube in one of his drawers somewhere, but he doesn’t bother looking for it – he’s slick enough as is, and the slight pain keeps him grounded, keeps him from getting into it enough that he wouldn’t be able to monitor his volume.

There’s a slight urgency surrounding it all that is always there when doing something like this in a semi-public place, and he gives into it this time and allows it to urge him on quicker, fucking into his fist like he was going to get caught at any second.

He wants to drag this out, wants to get this over with, wants to think about anything else or feel the need to pull up some dirty video on his phone to finish, but all he can think about is you, you, you – he wonders what it would be like if you were the one stroking him instead, if you’d take pity on him or would be ruthless, if you’d whisper sweet compliments into his skin or humiliate him with biting words, if you’d bite at his neck, he really wanted you to bite at his neck and mark him up –

He orgasms with a choked off cry, hastily shoves the back of his wrist against his teeth to try to keep quiet as his hips buck sloppily into the loose circle of his fingers. He’s never been particularly quiet, and another wave of arousal washes over him as he imagines you telling him to keep it down, warning him that you’d have to gag him otherwise. He whimpers pitifully at the thought and tries to shut his mind down, feeling overstimulated both physically and mentally.

His fingers are sticky, the warmth quickly drying on his skin, and he feels much too hot, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his skin alongside a layer of shame. He’s not totally sure why but he feels like he’s just made everything worse, like somehow he’d crossed a line and now being around you was going to be ten times harder.

He also feels like this was inevitable though, that his attraction to you had been building for so long that if he hadn’t found a release for it somewhere then he would have gone insane.

Or maybe he’s insane now, now that he’d done something this dirty and depraved. He really didn’t know, gaze still just a bit glassy and unfocused.

What he did know was that he was completely and utterly fucked at this point, collapses onto his back and lets his aching forearm finally take a break as his eyes slide shut in defeat.

.｡..｡.

“You’re not serious.”

“Of course we are, hyung – why, do you have a problem with it?”

Hongseok is taunting him, like he always does, and Hui would usually play along and tease him back but he feels completely thrown off guard and does nothing more than blink at all of them incredulously. His lack of a playful reaction in return has Hongseok softening a bit at the edges, but Hyunggu isn’t nearly as merciful.

“What’s the problem with it? You’ve been wanting us to do something bonding like this for a while, and now we have a time to do it, a reason to do it, and someone to make sure we don’t screw it all up by doing something stupid when we’re drunk.”

“We didn’t force her, hyung, she offered when we asked.” Yuto’s trying to alleviate Hui’s concerns, but he’s way off base – still, he’s trying, so Hui manages what he hopes is more smile than it is grimace in the Japanese boy’s direction.

“We want to drink, she doesn’t like drinking, and we have a few days off because Road to Kingdom ended – what are you so worried about?” Changgu asks him, kind and sincere as always – Hui doesn’t trust him for a minute, but he can’t fight the natural urge to tell everyone what his issue was anyway. God, he hated them sometimes. (They were his family, and he supposed sometimes you just had to hate your family.)

“You all know my – my problem with her.”

“Yeah, we know you want to –“

“Date her.” Wooseok cuts Shinwon off at the last second, modifying whatever it was his hyung had been about to say – Shinwon looks both annoyed and scandalized that Wooseok had thought he was going to say anything else. Hui does his best to ignore them.

“You really thought I’d be okay with her being the one watching over us while we drank? Knowing that none of us can drink well?” He swore he could literally feel his stress levels rising – it wasn’t like he was an embarrassing drunk or anything, but he knew he had an incredibly low tolerance for it, and he also knew that if the entire group was drinking then they were just going to end up egging one another on until everyone was truly smashed.

“Well, you’re going to have to be okay with it, hyung.” Hyunggu, always the hard-ass, insists forcefully – he doesn’t say it unkindly, but he says it in a tone that brooks no room for disagreement. It’s more Kino’s voice than it is Hyunggu’s, scarily similar to when they’re in the practice room.

Hui knows he could override it with hyung or leader seniority, knows Hyunggu is watching him carefully to see if it’s actually something the elder couldn’t deal with.

He ultimately says nothing, just sighs in a way that lets everyone else know he’s acquiesced – the resulting cheer brings a small smile to his face, even if he still feels uneasy about how the planned drinking night would go. He knew that when it came to both his members and you in one building with alcohol involved there was no way he wasn’t royally fucked.

.｡..｡.

The night goes exactly as you expected it to – none of the Pentagon members could hold their liquor particularly well, which meant that after an hour and a half they were all at their limits. (It was honestly kind of funny to watch. They were all so intent on getting one another drunk that they weren’t really even paying attention to the way everyone was sabotaging each other by constantly keeping the cups full.)

Still, that meant you were mostly trying to make sure they didn’t kill or injure themselves somehow. It wasn’t too hard of a task, though you did have to threaten both Wooseok and Hyunggu to keep them from climbing on top of the only coffee table Dorm A had. You were pretty sure the glass would just shatter under their combined weight. Hyunggu had targeted you with an impressive pout after that, but he’d lost interest pretty quickly when Yuto had fallen asleep - not that you blamed him, the rapper was sort of adorable when he slept.

It also meant that when Hui got up to get water – he swore that’s what he was getting, at least – you followed him. The man was a menace in the kitchen when he was sober, you were almost afraid to imagine what he’d manage to do when he was drunk. Just his presence alone might cause the stove to burst into flames or something. He was seriously cursed.

“Why are you following me?” His question is just a bit slurred together, almost sounding more like he was incredibly sleepy instead of drunk – you figure it’s because he hadn’t had as much to drink, but you weren’t really sure. You hadn’t been monitoring how much any person drank, more concerned with keeping them alive. (They could manage to injure themselves sitting on the floor sober, so being drunk just made your job several times harder.)

“Just checking.” You murmur – he raises his eyebrows at your comment but doesn’t say anything else, turning to grab a glass from one of the cupboards. You watch him for four whole seconds before you decide he’s about to knock several of them to the floor, stepping forward to reach for it instead. Maybe you’d been wrong about how much he had drank.

“I could have gotten it..” His petulance makes you smile, doing your best not to laugh at the little “hmph” he gives you when you inform him that no, he probably could not have.

“Just let me take care of you, you big baby. At least this way I can make sure you’re getting only water.”

“That is all I was getting..” He’s still sulking when you hand it to him, face flushed from the culmination of everything he’d drank tonight. You force your gaze away when he begins to drink – even drunk off his ass he was still an infuriatingly confusing mix of handsome and cute, and you resolutely did not want to watch his throat when he swallowed.

The sound of glass hitting a bit too hard on a solid surface startles you – Hui’s set his glass down incredibly close to your hand, depth perception just a bit fucked. You want to open your mouth to scold him for the close call, but his body heat is incredibly distracting, and he’s raising one of his hands and your breath catches in your throat.

He cages you in against the dorm’s sink, one hand on the side of your neck – to angle the kiss better or to steady himself you weren’t sure – with the other bracing himself as he presses his lips to yours. He’s so ultra-hot against your body, tastes of the same fruity drink Shinwon had been pressing into his hand all evening, the metal of his belt buckle biting into your stomach.

It’s not until he gives a soft breathy moan into your mouth that you realize you’ve been kissing him back for the past thirty seconds in his own kitchen, heedless of the rest of his members in the adjoining room or the fact that he was drunk enough he could barely stand without assistance. You press at his shoulders with minimal force, missing the pressure of his lips when he instantly moves away.

“What..?” He looks immensely confused, and you feel awful for kissing him back when you weren’t totally sure he was even aware of what he was doing. “Why’d you push me away?“

“Hui –“

“You kissed me back, so why’d y –“

“I just don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret later, Hwitaek.” You hope the use of his full name will get through to him – it seems it does, in some regard, because while he chokes out a half-disbelieving and half-tormented laugh he still pauses and blinks at you slowly like he was trying to carefully choose his next words.

“You act like I haven’t wanted to do this since the first time I met you.” And oh, his voice is just a bit huskier, a bit slurred on the syllables, but he says them carefully and you know that, at the very least, Drunk Hui meant them.

The problem was that you didn’t know if Sober Hui would agree.

“You should go to bed, Hui.” You say this instead of saying all the other things crowding the tip of your tongue, instead of grabbing him by the collar and kissing him again – alcohol took away a person’s consent, and you weren’t about to take a chance to pressure Hui into doing something you weren’t sure he wanted in the first place.

“No one else has gone to bed yet..” Now he’s sulking – but this is normal, this you can deal with. You can pretend like your lips didn’t still tingle where his had been touching, can pretend like you weren’t already addicted to the feeling.

“That’s not really a valid argument considering Yuto’s fallen asleep twice already.” You counter, watching the way he bites at his bottom lip in frustration – you know it for what it is, and it still seems coy to you instead, like he’s trying to seduce you.

God, what was wrong with you? He was just pouting now, brow furrowed, and you feel absolutely pathetic for seeing his current actions as anything other than what they really were.

It didn’t matter how attractive or desirable you found him, you couldn’t in good conscience do anything while he was so inebriated.

“Come on, Hui – let’s get you to bed so I can get back to the other boys to make sure they haven’t done something stupid, like coercing Hongseok into wrestling Changgu shirtless. Again.”

“It wasn’t that stupid –“

“They literally broke a bookshelf with their bodies, be quiet.” The banter comes easily, is normal and comfortable – it’s easy to pretend like he hadn’t just been kissing you, like you hadn’t just been fantasizing about him seducing you of his own free will. His skin is warm underneath your fingertips, flushed from the alcohol, as you direct him by the bicep down the hall and to his room.

You’re rarely in here – he’s rarely in here, actually, considering how much time he spends at his studio, how often he sleeps there. Because of that his room is sparsely decorated, an incredibly faint lingering smell of the cologne he occasionally wore clinging to the edges of some of the surfaces. It’s a heady scent that you do your absolute best to ignore, because it brings to mind images of him whenever he bothered to get extra dressed up, devastatingly handsome.

He lets you guide him over to his bed with zero fuss but turns back towards you when his knees hit the edge of it, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. It’s a deceptively gentle action, and you know you should really stop him, but you don’t move when he leans in to kiss you again. Underneath the flavor of alcohol there’s a distinctive taste that is purely him, and you know if you weren’t addicted to kissing him before then you definitely were now.

When you nip at his bottom lip and he lets out a shuddering moan you realize what you’re doing, try to pull away as fast as you can – this wasn’t fair to him, when he wasn’t in his right mind – but he catches you with a hand frantically landing on your waist, dropping his head to litter kisses along your jaw and then throat. You try to ignore the way your legs go weak at the feeling.

“Please –“ It’s more of a whine than a plea, but you feel it against the skin of your neck all the same, the words dragged along your pulse-point like a searing flame. “If we don’t now, then I don’t think –“

“You need to sleep.” It takes every ounce of willpower inside of you to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs, the insistent hard press of his cock against your thigh, the way his whimper when you push at his chest vibrates along the skin of your shoulder where he presses one last desperate kiss. “We can – we’ll talk about it in the morning.” You continue to push him gently back until he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, gazing up at you through his eyelashes, flushed and looking five different kinds of wrecked. Your entire nervous system threatens to shut down at the sight and you’re not sure that you can keep your promise about talking about it tomorrow.

He’s apparently not sure of it either, expression pinched and distraught when you press him insistently by the shoulders back onto his bed. His hair is ruffled and his eyes are glazed (from the alcohol or lust, you weren’t sure), his lips slick and kiss-bruised –

You tear your gaze away and force yourself to breathe again. When you look back Hui’s thrown a forearm over his eyes, bottom lip snagged between his teeth, breathing labored.

It takes ten seconds before you’re out of the room, clicking the door shut as quietly as you can, trying to erase the imagery of tears staining his face.

.｡..｡.

When Hui wakes up it’s to a pounding head and the vaguely disgusting feeling you get when you sleep in your clothes on top of your covers. His entire body hurts and he makes the same promise he always does when he wakes up like this, the same one he’s never kept – he’ll never drink again. Or, at the very least, he’ll never drink that much again.

His whole room spins when he pushes himself up, groaning softly at the way he feels like the world tilts dangerously on its axis as he slides his legs off the edge of his mattress. It’s only because of this world-shifting that he notices Wooseok asleep on the other side of his bed, all his long limbs drawn in as close as possible, his brow furrowed in his sleep.

He wonders when the maknae had ended up here and how they’d decided on rooms while he goes to the pain-staking process of draping one of his extra blankets over the tall boy. The world is still too bright (even with his blinds shut) and every step he takes feels a bit like walking through mud, but when he sees the way Wooseok slightly relaxes after being covered it all feels worth it.

The trek from his room to the kitchen feels like it takes much longer than it should, but at the very least the suspiciously long stretch of the dorm gives ample time for his headache to shift from excruciating to manageable. He was going to find the bottle of Aspirin, take all of them, and then go the fuck back to sleep. (Okay, maybe one of those was an exaggeration, but it sure felt like he could use that many painkillers.)

“Good morning.” He almost chokes when he hears your voice, a sudden onslaught of memories causing his face to heat up – you weren’t even looking at him, busying yourself with the small skillet Hongseok kept religiously cleaned. Hui wasn’t sure if his nausea was due to the smell of food or the way all he could think about was how he had – stupidly, why the fuck had he done that – kissed you and then tried to get you into bed with him.

“..Morning.” He hopes you take his lackluster response as a product of his hangover, sliding into one of the chairs at the kitchen table so he can bury his head in his hands.

“That bad, huh? You’re going to have to learn to tell Shinwon ‘no’ when he offers you drinks, you know.” He looks up to see you placing what he assumes is an Aspirin down on the table in front of him, already turned back to grab him water. He’s not sure if he’s glad you mistook his suffering as the results of a hangover or not.

“Thanks.” He waits until you hand him the glass before he takes the medicine, downing the rest of the contents when he realizes just how thirsty he was. He can feel the weight of your gaze still on him and it makes the blood in his veins feel like ice, knowing you had to remember the exact same things he (suddenly) did.

“If it makes you feel any better, Hongseok is way worse off than you right now. I honestly can’t believe he’s such a lightweight sometimes…” Your tone is sympathetic, but all Hui feels is a slight smug happiness at there being someone else who was, at the very least, suffering more than he currently was. At least Hongseok hadn’t had the chance to do anything stupid with someone he liked last night, like Hui had. “Honestly, it’s sort of impressive.”

“Huh?” He’d stopped listening to you by pure accident, forces himself to refocus on you – which just causes his eyes to instantly lock on to your lips, face heating up because not only does he remember kissing them, he remembers what they felt like and tasted like and he has to fight to tear his gaze away. God he was so fucked.

“How many lightweights you have in your band. In a group of nine you’d think it’d be more even, but, like.. almost all of you can’t hold your liquor. It’s kind of impressive.” You’re back to focusing on whatever it is you’re cooking – he only just now notices you also have ramen boiling in their small stove to the side, the dull bubbling of the water having blended into background noise long before he’d realized it had been there.

“Are they okay?” He’s sure they are, but there’s some deeply ingrained part of him that feels required to check – the soft smile you give him in response makes him feel like he’s in high school again whenever his crush would focus on him and him alone, and he isn’t sure what to do with that feeling now that he’s twenty eight years old, so he looks down at his empty cup instead.

“They’ll be okay. Wooseokkie ended up in your room – I’m sure you noticed him.” You wait for him to glance at you and nod before continuing. “Hongseok and Changgu ended up in the same room together, which worked out well considering Changgu’s probably the only one who could sleep through Hongseok’s pitiful whining about his hangover anyway. Hyunggu and Yuto shared a room, I think – which I guess means Shinwon ended up alone. Any guess on whether he’ll be happy or upset about that?”

“It could be either.” He responds, mostly because it’s true (Shinwon’s moods were hard to predict sometimes) but partly because talking about his members was something he could easily do, something that felt familiar and normal. It felt safe and far away from the topic he didn’t want to think about. (But he was thinking about it anyway, could remember your warmth when your body was pressed against his, could remember the way you kissed him back bruisingly and made him want nothing more than for you to wreck him every day of his life.)

“Oh, right – Yanan’s in China, by the way, and Jinho’s in the military.”

“Thanks.” His response is a dry remark at the way you were trying to tease him – like he didn’t know where Yanan was and wasn’t constantly in contact with the soon-to-be actor, like he didn’t think about Jinho every single day and wonder if he was doing well. “What would I do without your incredibly timely information.”

You just roll your eyes at him and turn to the ramen – he wonders who you’re making it for before realizing it was probably for whoever woke up hungry. That realization makes a certain spot in his chest warm, and he tries to ignore it because for fuck’s sake, not now.

“I knew it was going to go badly..” He mutters to himself – you hum questioningly and he blinks, surprised you heard him and instantly trying to reach for a half-truth that you’d believe. “Drinking so much, I mean.” Not totally a lie, which meant he could say it and have it sound mostly believable. To his relief you seem to take it at face value.

A silence stretches out between the two of you – it seems comfortable for you, but he feels like his skin is crawling, waiting for the moment you spring the dreaded conversation on him. He can’t think of any more topics to bring up to stall it.

“Hwitaek.” The tone of your voice makes his heart drop into his stomach and freezes over any warmth he’d been feeling because he knows the conversation that is now seconds away from happening is going to be one he didn’t ever want to have. “I think we should talk about what happened last night.”

“What happened?” He tries to brush it off like he didn’t remember, but his voice wavers just a bit and he can’t meet your gaze and he knows that you don’t buy it for a second.

“We have to.” Your voice is soft, gentle, and he hates it because he feels like you’re trying to be as kind as possible, and that didn’t bode well for how the conversation was going to go. “Did you do what you did because you were drunk, or because you were drunk and wanted to?”

Your gaze has him pinned to the seat, his own eyes wide and brain trying to stutter through any excuse he could think of, and when that didn’t work, trying to think of some way he could play it all off as a joke, or as him just being an overly friendly drunk.

You won’t believe anything but the truth, he can tell, and he was a shit liar even when he wasn’t hungover and panicked.

“I –“ He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, probably something stupid like ‘I love you, and I don’t know when I knew that but I’ve always wanted to kiss you, I was drunk but it let me do what I always wanted to do’ but he’s saved by Hyunggu walking into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes and looking a bit less like hell than Hui felt.

“I think I’m dying..” The maknae grumbles, and your attention shifts to him and getting him something to help his headache. Hui tries to feel relieved that the conversation had been dropped, but the look you send him once over Hyunggu’s shoulder says, ‘We’re not done talking about this’ and he feels sick all over again. He was so fucked.

.｡..｡.

It isn’t until he escapes to his studio later that day, having basically inhaled an entire cup of coffee to try to fight off both his hangover and his exhaustion, that he realizes that aside from all his personal problems with how the night before had went he had essentially pushed himself on you and then not allowed you an avenue to talk to him about it.

And that makes him feel even more sick, because there had been a chance you’d just wanted closure of some kind considering he had basically drunkenly assaulted you, and all he’d done was avoid the issue entirely when you tried to talk to him about it.

Fuck. Fuck, he was the worst.

He’d been so worried about rejection that he hadn’t even thought about the fact that you’d never consented to being kissed – or, fuck, being propositioned for sex – in the first place.

He runs both hands through his hair aggressively, ruffling it in the slightly painful way he usually did whenever he did something he wasn’t happy with – he feels anxiety sitting cold in his stomach, fear that not only would you hate him but that he’d ended up hurting you or breaking your trust in him all because he’d gotten stupidly drunk.

Pushing down the steadily rising nausea, he reaches for his phone and almost calls you, deciding at the last moment to text you a simple ‘You’re right, we need to talk’ instead. He’d already fucked up once, he didn’t want to force you into the conversation by calling you unexpectedly. As an afterthought he adds a quickly typed ‘I’m sorry I tried to avoid it before’, because despite how nervous the thought makes him, he is genuinely sorry. (Sorry for everything, in fact.)

He tries to busy himself with unfinished tracks while waiting for you to respond, listens to the same snippet of some demo Yuto had sent him six times without really ever hearing the notes, does his absolute best to ignore how one of the last times he was in here he’d ended up touching himself to the thought of you. With everything that had happened since he feels fucking disgusting at the thought of it.

When his phone vibrates he essentially lunges for it – it wasn’t like he’d been making progress on anything anyway – heart hammering in his throat as he opens your messages.

‘It’s okay. In person or by a call?’

He wants to fucking cry at how nice you’re being, at giving him the option to choose a less personal route – but he knows that you were the one who’d taken the brunt of the incident, that all he was really worried about was rejection and being embarrassed. His fingers tap out ‘I’m embarrassed, but it’s up to you’ before deleting the first part before sending. He didn’t want you to feel like he was trying to pressure you into one choice or the other at this point.

‘Knowing you, and seeing how you reacted this morning, I think you’d die if we did it in person lol I’ll call you’

He tries to fight the weak smile your text causes – you always make him smile, and this is no different, but he can’t tell if you’re genuinely okay or not through text and it worries him. You’d seemed fine this morning, almost painfully nonchalant – too nonchalant? He wasn’t sure if he was overthinking things now or not – but he’d been hungover and tired.

You don’t call right away, and he resigns himself to waiting out another five or so minutes in this sickening state of anxiety, selecting and re-selecting the exact same clip of audio over and over just so he can pretend he’s doing something, so he can try to occupy his brain.

When his phone does ring he slams his knee into the table in surprise, high-strung and nervous. He barely even feels the tingling pain.

“I’m so sorry.” He blurts out the instant he answers, muttering a soft fuck under his breath afterwards. He’d wanted to give you time to speak, but he was buzzing with an anxious and guilty energy that had him speaking before he even realized he was.

“What?” Your question sounds more surprised than legitimately confused, like you hadn’t expected him to just start talking immediately. He rakes a hand through his hair again and then keeps it there, fisted, trying to ground himself with the tiny bit of pain as his breathing speeds up.

“About last night – I’m so sorry, I just – I was drunk, and that’s no excuse for what I did, I wasn’t thinking and I’m so fucking sorry. Are – are you okay? Am I allowed to ask that?” He feels like he’s right on the verge of panicking and he hates it, because you were the victim here, not him.

“I –“ You only pause to collect your thoughts for a heartbeat, but he feels the moment stretch on endlessly, sees ninety different scenarios play out and discards every positive one immediately. “Hui, you’re – god you’re so sweet.”

“What?” It’s more of an exhale than a word, because you didn’t sound angry, or hurt, you just sounded slightly amused and grateful, and he doesn’t want to get his hopes up but you didn’t sound upset.

“You’re right, what you did was wrong and shitty, and you suck for doing it.” You pause to breathe, and it reminds him he needs to breathe, his gaze darting along one of his computer monitors without really seeing anything. “But it’s sweet of you to apologize. You should, but most people wouldn’t.”

“I should have this morning.” He murmurs quietly, fingers gripping his phone so tightly they’ve begun to ache. “I was selfish and didn’t even think about it. I really am so fucking sorry.”

“I know, Hui. I believe you. You suck at lying anyway, if you weren’t sorry then I’d be able to tell.” You’re laughing again, and he tries to join you, but it sounds weak. His entire body feels like it’s melted into nothing – he didn’t even care if you rejected him at this point, you didn’t hate him and that was good enough. “But I kissed you back, Hui. Multiple times, actually.”

“…..what?” He can’t think of anything else to say – he had remembered you kissing him back, of course he did, but it all sort of blurred together at one point and he wasn’t sure that any of it had definitively happened. “I – I know – I mean, I thought you did, but you could have just, I don’t know, been trying.. to.. get me to go away by not resisting..?” Some drunks became irate when told ‘no’, and while he knew he wasn’t one of them – and he had a feeling you did too – that didn’t mean you hadn’t just been trying to protect yourself.

“God you’re sweet.” Your sudden, repeated statement is quiet, almost like you hadn’t meant him to hear it – he doesn’t say anything, doing his best to just breathe, doing his best to act his fucking age and not like some kid who needed instant reassurance. You were the one who deserved reassurance in this situation. “I kissed you because I wanted to, Hui. It’s very kind of you to be so concerned, but you’re about the least threatening drunk I’ve ever encountered. I could have probably pushed you off me with one hand – actually, I did push you off me with one hand, when we were in the kitchen.”

“I – you – you wanted to.” It’s a statement because he’s stuck trying to process this new information, because this wasn’t a rejection (he thinks it’s not, at least), because you didn’t hate him, because the way all the anxiety induced adrenaline had leeched out of his body was leaving him feeling even more exhausted than before.

“I actually wanted to tell you that I was sorry – since I kissed you back and all, but you were drunk so it wasn’t really like you were –“

“I wanted to – I wanted you to.” He says the words too fast, trips over them, but he knows you understood by the way you went silent on the other end. He appreciated the apology, really, he did, but not only did he not think it was needed, he also couldn’t stand listening to you apologize for kissing him back when he had been dreaming about this moment for way too fucking long.

And he wants to tell you that, but you’re still silent and he’s beginning to wonder if he somehow read this entire situation wrong.

“..I don’t know what to say now.” You admit softly, and he lets out a silent exhale when he realizes you’re just being shy. He wasn’t used to that side of you, but already he knew he found it adorable, just like the rest of you.

“You can’t be more embarrassed than me, if you are then neither of us will be able to talk.” He’s laughing quietly now, feeling.. not quite comfortable yet, but definitely on the way there. You hadn’t really made any declaration of love for him, but you had reciprocated his kiss, at the very least.

“Oh, you need me to be confident?” There’s a teasing tone in your voice that is more commonplace than the shy one from before, and he already knew just by the sound of it that whatever you’re going to say next is going to affect him in some way.

“It’d be helpful.”

“Then I’d say we need to try that whole kissing thing again, but without the alcohol. It really ruined the experience last time, don’t you think?” He suddenly can’t breathe again, mouth opening and then closing at your statement – not that you care about his lack of a response, since you continue without him saying anything. “It could have led to so many fun places if you hadn’t been drunk.” A pause, where his heartbeat pounds in his head and his mouth has gone dry. When you speak again he can tell you’re doing your best to keep up your confident façade. “..Is that okay with you?”

“Yes.” He says this on a relieved breath, face still hot but body covered in excited, adrenaline filled tingles. You were really putting him through an emotional workout this morning, but at this point he wouldn’t dare complain. “Please. I’ve wanted –“

He cuts himself off before he can say anything more embarrassing, about how long he’s wanted to do something like that, to hear you say something like that, how he’s fantasized and day-dreamed about it for way too long. He flushes even more when he can hear your gentle laughter on the other line.

“You mentioned something like that last night. I wanted to ask about it actually –“

“Oh, wow, I am super busy right now doing leader things, just.. so busy. I couldn’t possibly talk to you anymore, I’m just so extremely busy.”

“Jerk.” This time when you laugh he laughs with you, a real laugh instead of the weak one he’d offered you earlier. “Okay, fine, go do your suddenly important work – but I’m definitely interrogating you about that later, it’s just too interesting to pass up. Bye Hwitaek.”

“Bye.”

It’s so like you to cut the conversation short whenever he mentioned his work – you never wanted to genuinely distract him, and it was one of the things he liked about you.

Loved about you.

Fuck. Fuck.

He can’t contain his laugh of disbelief and giddiness, setting his phone down on his desk so he can cover his face with both of his hands, running them through his hair and pushing it back away from his eyes.

You said you’d wanted to kiss him. You had kissed him. He hadn’t imagined it.

You’d said you wanted to kiss him again.

His phone vibrates and he lowers his hands to glance at it, sees it’s a text from you, and already he can feel that warm, lightweight feeling in his chest just at the sight of it.

God, he was so fucked – but with how this had turned out, he really couldn’t complain at all, nor did he want to.

.｡..｡.

Trying the ‘kissing thing’ again, as you had put it to him on the phone, turned out to be a nebulous concept – not that Hui really expected anything else, but it was a bit disappointing to finally get an answer (a positive one at that) only to be unable to meet up with you again. Not that getting to text you often wasn’t wonderful – it was, and he felt the need to make that abundantly clear (though he was pretty sure you knew that, considering he actually paid attention to his phone now just so he could respond to you) – it was just a bit frustrating to finally have permission to do the things he’d been dreaming about, like kissing you, and then be barred from doing it by forces outside of his control.

As it was, it was nearing the end of the second week since the ’confession’ had happened, and he was only just now finding time to head over to your place after working all day. It was late (nearing four am, he noticed with a groan) and his muscles ached from practice and his eyes ached from composing all day but he would be damned if he’d let another chance to spend time with you slip by him without leaping for it.

“You look so attractive.” It’s the first thing out of your mouth when you see him at your door – Hui laughs the soft sort of laugh he does when he’s a bit nervous, bending to unlace his shoes. It’s not rare of you to compliment him – in fact, you usually did, because it was true and he deserved all the kind words you could heap on him – but something about the circumstances makes it feel different this time, charges the air with a sort of excited, nervous tension.

“Really? I came over right after practice, I can’t look that good..” He trails off, shy, and you look him over again. It’s true that he looks a bit tired and run down, but the dim low lighting of your entryway paints his skin golden and throws his profile into a mix of soft shadows and gentle lines, illuminates his silver hair into a gradient of golden blonde to dusky gray.

“You look good, trust me.” It’s all you can say – everything else gets stuck in your head, muddling itself before it can get to your tongue. You hope to one day be able to properly put into words just how beautiful he is to you, but you’re in no rush to do it now, you have time. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay tomorrow?”

“If I passed up on this chance then I might legitimately die.” He says it so seriously that you laugh, and the way his expression smooths out into a warm smile has your heart beating erratically. God, he didn’t play fair at all.

“Well, if you’re sure..” You take the chance to step closer to him during the slight lull in conversation – he blinks at you once, still smiling, but the smile freezes on his face when you nonchalantly place your arms around his neck. You can feel the way he’s tensed at the new, intimate position, and it’s absolutely adorable how he clearly wants to reciprocate in some way but resolutely keeps his arms at his sides. “You –“

“Can I kiss you?” He says it all in one breath, interrupting you, rushed and embarrassed but also like he craves it, like he might die if he didn’t get your permission to do so. It’s the cutest thing in the world and a surge of heat floods your bloodstream at the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes. “Please.” He tacks it on at the end, a quiet whisper, so fucking good and sweet and perfect.

“Of course, baby.” The words are barely out of your mouth before he’s surging forward to connect your lips, his hands landing on your waist and a soft sound of pleasure escaping him as a sigh. The pet-name of ‘baby’ is one you learned that he liked recently, and while it had been deliciously fun to tease him with it through text and over the phone it was something else entirely to see the way he responded to it in person, the rich sunset color of his eyes softening into something more gentle and pliant.

The way Hui kisses now is slightly different than when he’d been drunk – it’s more assured, more precise, and while it still holds that level of desperation from before there’s something a bit less rushed about it, something more confident and not as nervous as before.

There's something infinitely better about doing it this way, Hui thinks, better than anything he'd fantasized about or hazily remembered from when he'd been drunk. Every single one of his senses is attuned to you and you alone, and nothing exists outside of the two of you kissing, the weight of your arms on his shoulders, the feeling of your nails lightly scraping at the nape of his neck, the rough feeling of your clothing beneath the pads of his fingers at your hips. Your lips press and slide against his constantly before parting for a few brief seconds, and he chases the faint swipe of your tongue against his bottom lip with his own, whining when you don't instantly give in to his demands.

By the time you nip at his lip he's completely given up on leading the kiss, opens his mouth and moans high and sweet when your tongue leaves a blazing trail of pure fire in its wake. His lips are kiss-bruised and tingling, the sensation imprinting on him that this was real, you were really kissing him, he wasn't going to suddenly wake up and realize it was all a dream.

When you pull away from him he follows you for a moment, stopping only when you cup his cheek in one hand and slide your thumb across his bottom lip. His gaze is glazed and he looks so thoroughly wrecked from simply getting kissed that you feel another surge of heat flood your system.

"Good?" Your whispered question barely makes it through to him, but when it does he blinks a few times to force the haze from his mind and nods, grip on your waist tightening, grounding him. You’ve never seen someone look more adorable.

“Yeah.” His voice is slightly hoarse and you give in to the urge to kiss his throat tenderly – when he tilts his head back with a sigh you trail your lips up to his jaw. “Yeah, it’s – great.”

You can feel the heat of his skin against your face, leave open-mouthed kisses from the spot under his ear (which makes him shiver in a way that you immediately catalogue in your mind) in a line down to the collar of the light-weight hoodie he’d worn for practice.

“I wish I could mark you up here..” Your lamentations are met with a literal fucking whine from Hui, one of his hands coming up to grip unsteadily at the crook of your arm like the mere comment had made him unsteady. “Oh? Is that something you’d want? For me to bruise you up so prettily that there’d be no way you could cover it?”

He nods, not trusting his own voice, head full of fantasies where you could do that, where you’d be able to sink your teeth into him, suck dark marks into his skin that wouldn’t fade and that his members would tease him about. (But even in his fantasies his members are there, a constant, and he knows that there’s no other timeline better than the one he’s currently living in.)

“Hwitaek.” You say his name softly, wrap a hand around the back of his neck to make him look at you – his gaze is disconnected, lingers on your lips before your silence registers as he meets your eyes. “I think we should talk about what we both want out of tonight.”

“Yeah – okay, okay.” Fondly, you watch as he takes a small step back and forces himself to become more present, a bit of clarity re-entering his eyes. You notice that he hadn’t stepped far enough away that either of you had to stop touching one another though, and it makes a part of your heart warm with affection. “That’s probably a good idea.”

He lets you lead him further into your house, glances around in interest but doesn’t stop you – he thinks (hopes) he’ll have more time later to become acquainted with this place.

“So, Hui –“ He perks up at you speaking to him, and it’s so cute that you have to stop just to recollect your thoughts. He peers around your room with thinly veiled interest but keeps glancing back at you like you’re the most interesting thing in existence. It’s flattering and adorable. “Considering we’ve talked about it before you know that I prefer to be more dominant, and you –“

“Find it incredibly hot?” He finishes your sentence for you, a happy little smirk on his face at your surprised expression as he darts in to kiss you once, quick and chaste and filled with delight.

“I – I was going to say, ‘you’re okay with it’, but what you said was so much better.” You’re smiling now too, still a bit shell-shocked – really, what sort of luck did you have for an incredibly attractive and sweet guy to also be down for being submissive for you? – but definitely not complaining. You cup his face in your hands and draw him towards you again for a sweet kiss – it lingers just on the side of ‘too passionate’, but neither one of you have enough self-control to reign it back in. You can feel his flush underneath your fingertips. “How did I ever get this lucky?”

“Should I say the cliché thing about thinking the same thing?” His voice is soft, one of his hands coming up to slip underneath your own, fingers curling around your palm. “Because I was.”

“You really are a hopeless romantic sometimes, you know that?” You couple your rhetorical question with another kiss – you were one hundred percent addicted to them now, you knew that for a fact. “We should really talk about what you’re comfortable with happening tonight, Hui.”

He must not be thinking clearly (he’s not, all he can think about is you and how you keep kissing him and how it’s all he’s ever wanted in his entire life) because he says “anything” in a strained whisper, breathless and needy before anything has even happened.

“Anything?” You can’t hide the surprise in your voice, though you try to soften it at the last second – he flinches anyway, like he was embarrassed with how eager he had come across, his gaze somewhere at your hip now. “’Anything’ is a dangerous thing to say, Hwitaek. What if all I wanted to do was finger-fuck you?”

He knows you were joking – he can hear it in your voice, the way you’ve tried to lighten the mood to make him more comfortable. He appreciates it, but it does absolutely nothing for him considering the effect your words had on him. “…I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Really?” Again you’re surprised, but this time you seem slightly eager – he raises his gaze to assess the situation, and yes, you did look interested. The excited, nervous little fire burning in his core feels a bit stronger suddenly. All he can do is nod, mute in the face of your presence, your power, your effortless aura that has him sinking down gratefully onto your bed at the slightest push of your hand against his chest.

Your fingers press at him, hard, and he feels breathless when they slide underneath his hoodie and t-shirt both in one go, hitch it up to above his navel. He thinks about all the marks you could leave on him there, hidden under clothing between promotions, and the sly grin you share with him when your fingernails rake a teasingly shuddering line down his side makes him think you have the exact same ideas he does.

Those two articles of clothing are lost quickly, dropped somewhere over the side of your bed as you kneel between his legs and kiss him until he can’t breathe, a wonderful feeling that has him drifting along in hazy bliss until he realizes what you’re doing.

“You’re a bit more dressed than I am, suddenly..” He tries to make it teasing but it comes out as something soft and reverent, and your lips when they smile at him are a slash of color that he can’t tear his eyes away from. He can feel your curious fingers dipping under the waistband of his athletic joggers and he does his best not to lose his fucking mind at the connotations of it.

“That’ll come. Later. Let me focus on you first, Hwitaek.” And how could he even argue with that? Why would he argue that? He’d have time to see your body later – and to be completely honest, he was perfectly happy with seeing however much of you that you were comfortable showing him.

(Still, he thinks, as you gently push him to lie down on your bed, he hoped you weren’t too uncomfortable with showing your body. As you drag the fabric of his briefs slowly down his legs he thinks about how much he really wants to eat you out, and what a shame it’d be if you weren’t comfortable with that. Regardless, he’d find some way to pay his respects to you and your body, even if his regular go-to’s turned out to not be an option.)

“You’ve done this before?” He doesn’t sound nervous, just questioning, having slung a forearm across his eyes. You let him leave it there for now, knowing he must feel a bit vulnerable in his current position.

“Mhm, I have – and you?” It’s almost laughable how casually the two of you are speaking, like you hadn’t just been feeling him up and wasn’t currently in the middle of warming lube on your fingers. When he nods you hum and use your clean hand to grip him under the knee, pulling it up high enough you can place a kiss on the inside of it. An amused laugh leaves him in the form of a surprised exhale at the surprisingly tender action.

“I have – don’t worry, I’m not new to all of this.” You can’t see his eyes but you can see the rest of his face, see that he’s still smiling – you keep a close eye on his expression as you circle his rim teasingly, watching with rapt attention the way the smile disappears as he tenses with a soft sound that’s not quite a gasp before forcing himself to relax again.

“With women or men?” You keep it casual, careful to keep your voice unaffected, and he laughs again but it’s more disbelieving this time, pulls his legs up so his knees bracket you on either side.

“Yes.” Hui simply answers, and it’s your turn to laugh, your free hand smoothing soothing circles into his bare hip. You think he looks absolutely beautiful like this, spread out just for you and you alone, a small notch in his brow from the way his expression has twisted as you carefully slip your first finger in.

“You’re really cute like this, all vulnerable and naked for me.” You’re teasing him, testing the waters – from the way he flushes though, the little hitch upwards that his hips make, you think you might have just discovered something fun. “Hui, do you like me talking to you like that?”

He doesn’t answer you right away, moves his arm so he can look down at you between his legs. Something about it must get to him, because he just looks at you for a moment or two, like he was trying to imprint the visual in his mind.

“You can add another.” He says instead, all breathy and soft like you’d already ruined him, wrecked him into pieces. It’s incredibly endearing, you think, dropping your gaze to where his cock sits red and shiny and untouched against his lower stomach, a small mess of pre-cum already smeared onto his skin. That was also endearing.

“I’ve barely even stretched you yet..” Your disbelieving murmur is clearly heard by him, and you raise your gaze to meet his as you test the waters with a second finger. It’s definitely tight (tighter than you would have preferred, if only for his own safety), but Hui just moans and shifts his hips more towards you, digging into your pillow as he tips his head back. “Oh – Hui the size queen, huh? Is that it?”

He laughs, but it tapers off into a sound closer to a moan than anything else. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.”

“Does it suit you?” You keep one hand splayed flat on one of his hips – he’s doing a wonderful job at not moving overly much, but by doing this you can feel every small tremor that goes through his body, can feel his muscles tense each time he forces himself to stay still. “If I end up fucking you one day am I going to have to make sure it’s sized big enough to totally wreck you?” Your question is coupled with an inquisitive upwards quirk of your fingers, and he nearly kicks you in surprise at the liquid arousal that floods through his body at the feeling. (You teasingly bite at his lower calf for it, and the soft sound he makes as you press your teeth into him is definitely something you file away for later.)

“I know you’re just teasing me, but -“ He licks his lips, tries to gather his focus again as you add a third finger. It burns in such an exquisite way that it’s hard to concentrate on anything else except for the current points of contact between you and him.

“Do you want me to stop?” A pause. “Hui, look at me.”

He obeys, meets your analyzing gaze and offers a slightly strained smile as he thinks about your question – though he doesn’t think for very long, a burst of wonderful, embarrassed heat curling across his chest and through his stomach when he lets his upper body drop back down to the bed, shaking his head ‘no’.

“Oh, Hwitaek..” You sound vaguely pitying, and he hates it, but he loves it. “You’re just a little boy who likes to be teased and humiliated, is that it?”

He feels so small with you talking to him like that, like his body was three sizes too big for his skin and he was burning up from the inside out – whenever the heat becomes too much all he has to do is open his eyes and see you looking at him (you’re always looking at him, and it takes his breath away because the way you watch him makes him feel like he’s something special, something that should be treasured) and suddenly everything was okay again. It was like you were the one stoking the flames of his desire, but you could also cause that blistering heat to ebb away whenever it became too much.

He realizes he hasn’t answered you yet and frantically nods, heart threatening to dissolve into something sticky and sweet at the way your expression softens.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we’re not going to delve too deep into that tonight without talking about it in more detail later.” He nods, because he really does understand (despite the slight burst of disappointment) and he appreciates that you want to talk out what his limits are first. “Besides, how am I supposed to talk to you like that when you’ve been so good for me this entire time? So pretty and vocal.”

He can’t help the whine that tears itself from his throat at your phrasing – it didn’t matter what you were saying to him anymore, every single word embedded itself into his skin and worked its way through his body like an electric shock.

“Oh? Sweet boy - are you an adorable whore for both degradation and praise?” He doesn’t even bother saying anything this time, just shuts his eyes tight - he knows you already know the answer, can read him so well it’s almost like his desires were written out on his skin in black ink. “That’s so cute. You’re just so responsive to everything, aren’t you? I love that - anything I say or do I’ll get a direct response to, won’t I, Hwitaek?” You wait until he nods, his eyes still shut, before taking the opportunity given to you. Your lips press a teasing kiss into the line of his pelvis, giggling softly against his skin when he gasps above you. “Yeah, just like that. So beautiful, Hui, and all for me.”

Yes, all for you he thinks, and even his thoughts are getting mixed up and hazy now because you’ve wrapped your fingers around him loosely and he is so slick already, the feeling of your thumb swiping across the head of his cock, tracing the lines of precum down the shaft to where they’ve collected on his skin causing his entire body to twitch in a mess of stimulation.

“Oh, baby, you’re so wet for me already.” He can’t focus on anything, can’t think of anything, hears your voice through the haze like it’s faraway and he’s drifting underwater. He tries to force himself to be more present, tries to physically drag himself out of those depths, but you’re cooing at him sweetly and running your fingers over his cock softly, and any amount of shame he might have felt at having fallen so far into this headspace is eradicated by the sugar-laced kisses you press into his side.

“You really can’t keep quiet, can you?” Your voice is sweet but laced with amusement, and you can feel the way he throbs in your hand at the slightly degrading comment. “You sound like you’re going to cum just from three of my fingers – are you, baby? You going to make a mess of yourself before we even get to do anything?”

“Fuck..” Hui’s entire body feels like it’s on fucking fire, and when you duck your head to suck a bruise onto the inside of his thigh it’s all he can do to keep from crying out even louder. You were right, he couldn’t keep quiet, his head swimming and his fingers curled so tightly into your sheets that he could barely feel them anymore. “I’m – you’re –“ He can’t concentrate, can barely speak, and he knows his words come out more as whines anyway.

“Do you think it’ll be okay if you cum now?” You’ve stopped moving entirely and his whole body feels like it’s buzzing, his hips trying to rock back onto your fingers or up into your hand with no real success as the haze slowly recedes from his mind enough for him to be able to form full sentences

“Y-yeah.” He pushes himself up onto his forearms to be able to look down at you, groan catching in his throat when he sees the way you’re peering at him openly, watching him with beautiful eyes and a graceful flush on your face, one of your hands slick with his pre-cum and the other still wickedly deep. He’d never been more sure of the fact that he loved you than this exact moment. “If – if you give me a little bit afterwards, it’ll be fine.” He knows he sounds breathless and wrecked already, but you smile so sweetly at him anyway, like he was something precious to you, and he feels like the ground and the bed he was lying on had just suddenly disappeared at the sight.

And then you’re lowering your head and wrapping your lips around him and it’s all he can do to keep his eyes open – you hadn’t eased him into it, hadn’t given him any indication of your plans at all. One moment you were asking him about his refractory period and the next you were doing things with your tongue and mouth that he couldn’t even begin to fathom, your fingers once again brushing against that spot deep inside of him that has him keening.

He’s not going to last much longer; he knows that with a sudden certainty that has him trying to warn you but is more disjointed pleas for you to not stop than they are anything else.

One of his hands grasps for your shoulder blindly when he hits his peak, fingers curling into your skin as he spills himself onto your tongue. It’s blindingly hot and you can see the way he fights to keep his eyes open to watch, brow furrowed and mouth open almost like he was in some sort of pained ecstasy as you continue to finger-fuck him through it until he’s trembling.

When you stick your tongue out at him tauntingly and show him the mess he made Hui groans from deep within his chest like you’re torturing him, sits up abruptly and crashes his mouth into yours. It’s messy and dirty and he licks into your mouth aggressively, chasing all essence of himself off your tongue and onto his own with a moan that rattles your bones. You do your best to withdraw your fingers as gently as possible but he whimpers at the feeling anyway, drops his head to begin kissing a sloppy trail from your jaw down to your neck.

“You’re so dirty..” Your head is spinning and you feel short of breath - each time you inhale his chest knocks against yours as he heaves his own breaths, though he refuses to pull away from your skin for long enough for him to be able to recover as quickly. You think you feel him murmur a soft sound of agreement to your statement against your collarbone.

As soon as you can wrest a big enough part of yourself back under control you lean back, holding him securely away with your thumb and forefinger gripping his chin. Hui looks at you with an expression of wrecked reverence, the perfect picture of debauchery, and you know that right here, right now, at five something am in your bedroom, he would do literally anything you asked – that at this point in time it was no longer your room, with the window showing glimpses of the outside world, the sounds of cars going past. This place, this moment in time, it was now something disconnected and intangible, where he had given you explicit trust (perhaps foolishly, considering how inchoate your relationship was) to control and lead him. To take care of him in whatever way you see fit.

And you know that right here, right now, in this nebulous place that the two of you occupied, you would strive to make sure he never regretted giving you that permission.

“Hwitaek.” Your voice is breathier than you expected – you sounded like you’d been kissed hard. You sounded like you were in love. “Hwitaek, you are messy and crude – you are such a dirty boy, and you’ve hidden that from me for years.” He is hanging off your every word and you suddenly feel like you have a choice to make.

It’s one you don’t think about for more than a second, because you realize that you don’t need to.

“And, Hwitaek – you are so perfect for me.”

.｡..｡. .｡..｡.

“You know something?” Hui says it casually, out of nowhere, hand still rubbing nonsense patterns into the skin of your lower back after having crept underneath your shirt some twenty minutes ago just for the skin to skin contact. He’s not focused on anything else but relaxing in his bed at the dorm with you, thoughts about producing and writing lyrics and being a leader far from his mind.

“Hmm?” Your head rests on his chest, listening to his heartbeat – it’s a comforting sound, if not slightly faster than average, and when you close your eyes you can hear it mix with the soft (and sometimes not so soft) sound of some of his boys arguing or laughing or just living somewhere else in the dorm, outside his shut door.

He still hasn’t spoken so you lift your head and gaze at him, admire his features as he looks back at you with an expression so tender you’re almost afraid to have the weight of it on you. His hair is back to brown now, cut a bit shorter than before, and you stretch an arm out to run your fingers through it lazily, watch as he leans into it but keeps looking at you.

“I think you’re perfect for me, too.” His voice is warm, probably what sunshine would sound like if it was an auditory thing, and you blink at him in confusion for a few moments before you understand what he’s referencing, press your smile into his until it turns into a gentle, surging kiss.

It’s not quite an I love you, something adjacent to it, almost there but not exactly.

And neither of you say those words yet, just smile and look at each other and press kiss after sugared kiss into each other’s skin, interlace your fingers and marvel at the way affection seems to blossom for one another in both your ribcages at the simplest of actions.

The two of you weren’t in any rush. You had time.

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unsaidholland · 4 years

Text

best years | s. holland

the third fic from the calm series!!! i hope you guys like this one as much as i did :)

this is lowkey also one of my favourite songs off the album

warnings: mentions of drinking and intoxication

sam knew that you would be at the wedding. paige had warned him in advance that you were going, and that if he wanted them to change anything about their wedding so things wouldn’t be awkward, they would. but sam decided that it would be okay, he decided that he would force himself to be okay seeing you happy. it had been a little over a year since the two of you broke up, but he was still hurt over the multiple relationships that you had during that time. he wasn’t completely sure how he felt about you, but he knew he still loved you. to what extent? he was unsure.

you knew that sam would probably be at paige and bryce’s wedding, they were the ones who set you two up almost five years ago, and the breakup didn’t stop either of you from being friends with them. it had been more than a year since you both had called it quits so you thought you would be okay seeing him. no one said the two of you had to talk.

it was during the reception where everything changed. you found out that you and sam were sitting at the same table, but luckily all of your shared friends were there. mid-dinner, they pulled paige to the dance floor for the bouquet toss. all the single women gathered in a group, the ones most excited at the front. you were somewhere off to the side, not really wanting to catch it, but paige was one of your best friends, so you played along just for her. she had her back facing the group of girls, and as she threw it back, you ended up catching it. ‘how ironic’, you thought. the one thing you didn’t want happening, happened. you didn’t believe that you were going to get married next just because you had caught the bouquet, but part of you hoped you would find someone, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

sam watched you catch the bouquet, how could he not? everyone was staring, but it gave him the chance to get a look at you. he thought that you would’ve brought someone along with you, and was surprised when he saw you participating. you looked the same as you did when you broke up, just a little more tired. he could tell. he spent four years of his life learning how to read you, and he never lost any of his skills. he could tell that as you caught the bouquet, something he knew you never intended to do, you secretly were excited. there was something else about you that he couldn’t pick up on. he watched as you stood there in shock, holding the bouquet of mixed flowers, your pale pink dress hung still around your body. there was something there, something he couldn’t pick up on.

the dinner continued, music playing as everyone conversed at their tables. the wedding reception wasn’t quite large, but it wasn’t a small reception either. everyone seemed to know of each other, but they didn’t necessarily know each other the way that friends did. you and sam sat at the same table, a table that consisted of all of your shared friends. it made sense why you two sat together, despite everyone knowing that this was the first time the two of you had even seen each other in more than a year.

“wait, y/n, what happened to nick?” alex asked. he was one of your first friends out of the whole group, then introducing you to bryce, and the rest of the friend group. things got awkward after you and sam broke up, but alex still tried to keep everything the same. he watched as you put your wine glass down, then tapping your fingers against the stem of the glass.

“we ended it a few weeks ago, it wasn’t working out,” you said. you didn’t want to talk about an ex while sam was right there. yes, life went on and you were allowed to have other relationships after him, but it was out of respect. it didn’t seem right to talk about your most recent relationship right in front of your last long-term boyfriend. “anyways, enough about him, what about your boyfriend alex?” alex blushed, and continued to talk about his boyfriend, ollie. everyone at the table smiled seeing alex go on and on about ollie. you all thought that they would get married, but you all also thought that you and sam would get married. maybe not all of your predictions were correct.

you smiled as alex continued to gush, but all you could think about was nick. why did you end things with him? things weren’t working out was what you had said, but there had to be more to it. your eyebrows furrowed a little, something sam had caught out of the corner of his eye. even though it had been more than a year since he’d seen you, he couldn’t help but note every little detail about your body language. he couldn’t help but realized he was still madly in love with you, and seeing you only made it worse.

dinner finished shortly after, and everyone proceeded to dance. you were at the bar, getting another glass of wine, while sam was in front of you getting a beer. you had spent all night avoiding each other, but as the two of you were alone at the bar together, you couldn’t help but strike up a conversation.

“sam, hey,” you said as he was about to walk away after getting his bottle of stella artois. “i just wanted to make sure we’re okay. i know our break up sucked for both of us and i wanted to say sorry.” it was the very least you wanted to do. you wanted to make up with him, you wanted to be on good terms with him. he was your best friend before you two started dating, and losing him hurt more than any breakup you’ve ever been through.

“uh, yeah. honestly, we’re good,” sam said. he smiled and nodded, then worked his way back into the crowd of people, leaving you alone. you knew it was going to be awkward, you knew it was next to impossible to get him back as your best friend. but what you didn’t know was that as he walked away, everything started to make sense. why you couldn’t stay in relationships for too long, why none of the guys you dated ever made you feel the way you wanted to feel - you wasted so much time looking for sam in all of those guys.

paige noticed you standing at the bar alone, and she could tell your emotions and thoughts were washing over you like a tsunami. she walked over to you, saying nothing as she engulfed you into a hug. you melted in her arms, feeling understood by her despite not saying anything. she somehow just knew that something was happening with you and sam, but she couldn’t place her finger on what.

“tell me everything.” was all paige said, and it was all she needed to say for you to voice all your thoughts. everything from your first relationship after sam, to how you never felt like you fully clicked with the guys you dated. you talked about how even though you never realized it, you looked for sam in all of those guys. you tried to fill his shoes but were never able to. you would never be able to replace sam, and seeing him walk away from you the way he did less than half an hour ago was enough to make you realize this.

“oh honey,” paige said, then ordering more drinks for the two of you. “he hasn’t been doing too well either.” you looked up at her in surprise, and she just gave you a sympathetic look. “he’s been trying to get over you, but sam just can’t.” you furrowed your eyebrows at your bride friend standing right in front of you. her words confused you. he seemed happy, he seemed like he was doing alright, but you remembered that looks can be deceiving.

“pai, what should i do?” you downed the rest of the wine that was sitting in your glass. the slightly tart liquid flowing down your throat, the alcohol that was there prior helping you relax.

“i think you know what you should do,” was all paige said in response. with that, she left you alone with the bartender. you ordered another drink, needing more liquid courage. you had to go talk to sam. what you were going to say was still unknown to you, but you sat there until you figured it out.

when sam walked away, he walked over to bryce and alex. they immediately knew what he was thinking. the two boys had watched him briefly talk to you and walk away. they had watched as he had an internal battle with himself and his thoughts, wanting to talk to you but also feeling that you didn’t need him anymore. but unbeknownst to him, you needed him more than you needed air in your lungs, or blood flowing through your veins. you needed him like the ocean needs the pull from the moon to create waves. he was your other half, and if soulmates were real, you were certain that he was yours.

“you know you have to talk to her, right?” alex said. alex may not have known that you secretly were still hung up over sam, but you didn’t realize it until that night either, but he knew that there was still something there.

“mate she’s had so many other boyfriends after we broke up, she doesn’t care about me.” sam sighed as he voiced his thoughts. sam genuinely believed that he was easy to replace. he ran a hand through his hair, pushing the few pieces that fell around his eyes towards the back of his head.

“don’t close any doors before you’re fully sure.” bryce said. the other two boys standing in that group smiled at him.

“so you’ve only been married for an hour and a half and suddenly you’re really wise. okay bryce,” alex said, causing everyone to laugh.

paige walked over to stand beside bryce, him instinctively putting his arm around her waist. they shared a look, one that the other two were unable to read. they had been speaking through their expressions, speaking a language that only the two of them were able to understand. bryce smiled, and excused the two of them, asking alex to join them, which he did. sam and alex knew something was up, but they didn’t know what. as sam was left alone, you looked over at him standing there.

“it’s now or never,” you said quietly to yourself. you got up and walked over to him. “can we talk? please?” was all you said. not knowing what to do, sam just nodded and followed as you lead him to a quiet part of the venue. a little seating area outside, away from everyone in the reception hall. the two of you sat together, on either sides of the bench. an awkward silence fell over the two of you. suddenly you were frozen, not really remembering what you wanted to say.

“i won’t lie, i am a little bit drunk right now. but i just wanted to say i’m sorry for everything that happened with us. you were my best friend and our breakup hurt more than anything i’ve ever experienced.” you avoided making any eye contact with him, looking down at your hands while you were talking. it made it hard for sam to read you, but with every bone in his body, he knew you were being sincere.

“it’s okay i guess. people just grow apart, it’s just life,” he said. he internally kicked himself for saying that. he wasn’t okay, he missed you more than he misses harry when he’s away.

“no, it’s not okay. i spent the past year wasting so much time on people that reminded me of you, and i only realized that now. our breakup was the worst thing that happened to me. i subconsciously tried to replace you, but i was never happy sam. i needed you, and i still need you.” you looked up at him for the first time in more than a year. you studied his face. you looked at his freckles, some were fading since he hasn’t been in the sun for a while, but they were still all mostly there. you looked up at his hair, still cut the way you liked it. his hair fell over his forehead, split in the middle, some of the curls falling just over his eyebrow. you then briefly looked at his lips, looking away to study the rest of his features. his chocolate brown eyes were the last thing you went over, looking at how they reflected the moonlight. you could tell that he was still processing what you said, so you two sat in silence.

sam felt like the world was spinning around him just from your words. yes, he knew you were drunk, but drunk words were sober thoughts, right? it wasn’t as if your words could be that far from the truth, you were best friends before you started dating, and despite him being your boyfriend, he was also your closest friend at the time. the breakup ended an almost four year long friendship, and losing a friend as close as you two were hurt more than any other relationship.

“do you really mean that?” sam mustered out after what, to you, felt like hours. you nodded.

“i meant everything i said.” your confirmation was enough for sam to let down whatever guard he had put up. he had made eye contact with you, keeping it. he always knew your eyes were beautiful, but actually studying them in the moonlight for the first time in less than two years made him remember how in love with you he was and still is. “sam, i know you may not feel the same way, but i still am in love with you. i hate that it took me this long to realize it, but our breakup was a mistake.”

sam’s heart stopped. he had been waiting for you to say those words. those words changed everything.

“i still love you too y/n.” your face lit up, a sight that sam had missed seeing. his words brought you immense hope, hope that you could get back together. sam watched as you suddenly tried to put everything together. he knew you were wondering why he still loved you if he watched you go on and date other people. “i know you’re thinking i shouldn’t still love you, but i really do.” it was as if he could read your mind.

he gently grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers together, in an attempt to help you relax. his touch felt like sparks had spread across your skin. the feeling of finally holding his hand satiated a fire inside of you, one that you had tried to put out with other people but was never able to.

“what you did when we were broken up doesn’t concern me, you’re allowed to live your life y/n/n. i just care about you still loving me.” sam’s voice was soft. although you could still hear the music playing from the reception hall, all you heard and focused on was sam.

“i’m sorry it took me dating other people for me to realize that you’re all i want.” he pulled you closer to him, your thighs and knees touching. he cupped your cheek with his hand, making you look up at him and only him. sam gave you a small smile, a smile that said, ‘it’s okay,’ a smile that reminded you that everything was going to be okay. your eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips, wanting nothing more than to feel them on yours once again.

“kiss me,” you breathed out. he leaned down to kiss you. his lips met yours softly as if he was scared that the relationship would crumble more with how delicate it already was. you wanted nothing more than to pick up the broken pieces and build something else with them, you wanted to fix everything.

you pulled away first, a smile forming on your face. you moved your hands up to play with the curls at the nape of his neck as he brushed some of your hair out of your face and behind your ear. he pulled you closer, finally wrapping his arm around you, and you melted into his touch, laying your forehead on his shoulder. you closed your eyes, finally feeling at peace. it was that moment, sitting alone with sam, when you realized the best years of your life were always spent with him. the bouquet turned out to be right, he was going to give you the best years.

anything and everything taglist: @hollanderfangirl @hxrryhxlland @ohmy-moonlightx @musicalkeys @notsosmexy @writertoo18 @icyhollands

#sam holland #sam holland x reader #sam holland x y/n #sam holland fluff #sam holland imagine #sam holland fic #sam holland x you #sam holland x reader fluff #sam holland x reader imagine #sam holland imagines

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crowleyellestair · 4 years

Note

Headcanons on how the wolves + Jaskier would react to a s/o who is due for their period soon and thus very testy/wheepy? I have just been an atomic bomb this month and it’s driving me and everyone else nuts 😖

AN// I’m sorry it’s rough right now, I feel you 100% I hope you can relate and feel just a touch better through this by laughing or feeling some fluff

The thing about the boys at Kaer Morhen is that they weren’t really aware of what was happening. Triss had explained it a winter prior due to Ciri’s first cycle, but that hadn’t meant that they were used to it. Sorceresses don’t have these problems, and that was the type of women they were around most of the time. Close friends were always invited to the keep, and when Y/n was invited, it stirred the castle into territory most people wouldn’t think it would go.

Vesemir was the first to notice, being the soft dad he was

-Being as old and as trained as he his, he could simply tell

-He had been quite the gentleman as a young wolf, and was familiar with what to do in general

-Not wanting to truly treat you differently, he still asked for certain chores to be done, keeping you up and walking, but not having to move too much

-Honey and black tea would be specially made for you in the morning, as well as having your seat warm by the time you came down for breakfast

-He made certain your clothes were washed separately and more frequently, wanting to help you feel as clean as possible. The scent of sweat or musk never helps on that front

-Since he also cooks, as well as take care of laundry, he plates your food before taking the large pots to the table. The others thought it was because you became his favorite, and while that was true, he made sure to add extra ginger as that helps with cramps. He had regrets for not growing fennel this season, but he was glad to know that his ginger stock can help make you feel comfortable

Lambert was the first to experience it

-There were pranks to be had between you two

-While Jaskier can take what has been dished, his revenge pranks were never as funny

-He was the one who wasn’t afraid to be rowdy with you, and he found out the hard way that you weren’t up for it

-The witcher had been stalking you through the rafters, waiting until he could pounce

-Cramps weren’t necessarily terrible when approaching time, but you had stopped to rub your lower stomach for a moment, trying to sooth anything before it started

-That was the cat-wannabe’s time to strike

-He slid down the wall behind you, though close enough to whereas he landed, his arms wrapped around your shoulders and he wrapped his legs around your torso in a piggy-back formation

-You immediately went off, turning and falling against the wall

-He evacuated before he would be smashed and as he rounded to the front of you, smirk plastered on his face, you cuffed him as hard as you could

-The tears didn’t come, but the unnecessary adrenaline mixed with the already foul mood

-“Not today, Lambert, I swear to Melitele.”

-His eyes went wide, and he truly felt bad.

-You had never raised your voice, even after that one time he glued your mug of ale to your hand

-He threw out a quick sorry and practically flew down the hall in the direction you had just come from

Geralt had noticed next

-It had been the smell

-Not that you smell, but with the extra mutations, he could sense something

-It had been a familiar thing with Ciri, but he simply couldn’t place it

-He walked in on it as your room was on the way to his

-You had a plant, one Vesemir entrusted you to grow, but unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t really important. He just thought you might like a little life in your room. The plant began to wilt however, and leaves started to fall. You were in mourning, resting and crying against the wall

-The White Wolf stepped in to ask if you were ok, not realizing the situation before, but quickly stepped out when the real water works started. You clutched the plant to your chest and wept

-He made a swift and silent exit, trying to not interfere with your grief nor the scent in the air

Eskel, the soft soul, hadn’t noticed anything

-The brunette had either been held up in the library trying to fit his new finds into the shelves or he was with Lil’ Bleater

-You had made contact with him in the area where the goat roamed, fawning over the dear

-He had simply thought you shared the same kind of bond with the animal as he did

-It actually pleased him thoroughly to see it, a small grin plastered on his face

-You even went as far as picking the lil’ guy up and holding him

-He hadn’t noticed it then, but looking back, you were certainly too into it

Jaskier found out through the three younger witchers asking

-“You’re fully human, so what’s happening?”

-“What do you mean?” The three other men sitting him down in the main hall’s table. Lambert looked hurt and uncomfortable, and in the smallest voice any of them had ever heard from him, he said,

-“She yelled at me.” Geralt nodded, also noting the difference in behavior

-“Her smell is different. Not bad, just off. I also found her with a plant, crying.” His tone was rough and almost angry, upset with himself for not knowing what was going on, nor knowing how to fix it

-“Now thinking about it, she did seem aggressive in her coddling with Lil’ Bleater.” Eskel’s hand flew to his scarred cheek, a habit he developed whenever he thought something was very wrong

-It took the bard a moment to think of ideas, but the realization still came quickly

-He felt confident in his knowledge, though he had certainly been lucky in his life, never really being in contact with the disastrous side of a period

-Being dramatic, but also very out of his depth in this area, he told the men to leave it to him

-He shouldn’t have

-Jaskier ended up on his ass for trying to give you a massage and for making a mess of your bed by putting frozen wildflower petals over it

-Vesemir stepped in finally, overhearing the conversation, and explained that it wasn’t a voluntary thing. That Geralt could sense the intense shift in hormones, and you were lashing out, but not because you wanted to. He, being logical and a great dad, exaggerated how much you didn’t mean it, and how you most likely felt bad. Subtlety was needed for the situation, and no one needed a grand gesture. It was simply another week in the life of someone with ovaries, and you shouldn’t be treated too differently than usual, simply with a little more care.

The boys understood, but still felt bad for whatever reason. Jaskier was the first to think of a discrete apology, realizing a surprise massage was definitely not the way to go about it. He had come up to you late the same night, a hot rock wrapped in the nicest towel he could find, in hand. His same bubbly atmosphere stayed with him as he gently handed it to you. There wasn’t an actual conversation between the two of you, but he explained somewhat,

“I’ve heard that heated pads where better than massages anyways.” He knew that when he received a soft smile that it was okay.

Eskel was the next to think of something you might appreciate. He had a favorite book, despite reading many titles over his time. Embarrassingly enough, it was a smaller romance novella about a noble woman falling in love with a dwarf that worked in her families mine. You didn’t need to know it was his favorite, but he left it in your spot as an offering, knowing how he becomes so wrapped up in the book that he looses a sense of reality while reading it. He simply wanted you to lose yourself or whatever you felt, even just for a moment.

Geralt had become spoiled on his travels with Jaskier and Ciri. He fell in love with chamomile oil and honey exfoliation soap. The scent wasn’t overbearing, and the small grains in it from the oat really made one feel clean. There was a bathing order for everyone, his lining up right before yours. Geralt had extra bars, leaving one for you one night. It was like the others, just with a hint of orange zest. He knew you wouldn’t smell or sense what he could, and again, it wasn’t bad, but he knew how you appreciated feeling clean before this.

Lambert was the last to think of something. This had been traumatic for him, the young witcher taking a liking to you more than he had with someone since Aiden. He never thought he had to apologize for anything, nor has he ever had to come up with something to make someone more comfortable. Of course, he knew he didn’t have to, but he truly cared, and wanted to do something nice. And that came in the form of fur a week after the boys’ realization.

He was always freezing, and always wrapped in fur blankets. He had made sure he had the best furs, scratchy furs being uncomfortable. His favorite was a black and grey wolf pelt he had taken from this overly large wolf he found in the Skellege mountains. No matter where he dragged it, how many times he washed it, or overused it, it continued to be the softest thing he’s felt. Lambert would be spotted frequently at night being wrapped in said fur as he would pad down to use the bathroom. The fur had been cleaned and placed on your bed one night, though when you ventured to his room to ask about it, he was hidden. He was watching of course, and only relaxed when he watched you shrug and wrap the blanket around your shoulders. They all wanted your pain to leave as you mattered to them. They all wanted you safe and secure, but none of you can help it. They all swore they would try their damndest to make you comfortable in caring ways

#witcher imagine #witcher x reader #witcher lambert x reader #lambert x reader #lambert imagine #eskel x reader #eskel imagine #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #papa vesemir

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ancient-day · 3 years

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Thoughts on Goro and his plans post-Shido

Goro was a person willing to do anything it took to accomplish his goal, and it's incredibly impressive how much he was able to achieve by his own merit and hard work. Yes, he was chosen by Yaldabaoth, and yes, he was given things he never would have had access to otherwise from Shido, but there's no denying his own personal victories and feats. He was an ambitious person with strong conviction, and he stuck to the path he's chosen no matter how risky it’d been.

But where did that leave him when his goal was stripped away? When he lost his life's fight against Shido and everything he thought he knew, what did he have left at the end of everything he'd done?

( under a read more for length )

His plan was to thrust Shido into a living hell (not necessarily take his life), and in order to expose or shame him, Goro would also have to risk exposing himself to the public. And that would have likely resulted in his own arrest, which Goro would have been prepared for. After all, what would a private revenge be worth? After causing so many accidents, injuries, and death, allowing the man to fall as a victim or martyr behind the scenes wouldn’t work, and he’d understand better than most how necessary it was to have proof of those actions. It was the only way to really knock down a man who prided himself on reaching the top and being adored by the masses.

He must have known Shido's destruction through a plan like this was going to be both his freedom and his sentence because he could not intertwine himself in Shido’s web without suffering any of the consequences of his downfall. Unless he fled the country beforehand, which could have been part of his plan with those hints he's dropped about wanting to travel the world in the future and/or lay low after Shido was elected. But even then, what would be next?

What did Goro want, aside from Shido’s suffering?

He said it himself: he wanted to be wanted, needed, and loved.

So in a hypothetical scenario where he had succeeded in bringing down Shido, what he would be left with would either be imprisonment or a life on the run, alone. His deeds would catch up with him, and despite what he may say otherwise, he had shown signs of regret and uneasiness in his actions (examples: post-Okumura’s death, he visited Leblanc looking pretty damn miserable before Akira got his attention, as well as when he told Akira he regrets that they didn’t meet sooner). With those weighing heavily on his conscience, as well as his life of lies and secrecy, how would he ever obtain those desires of being wanted, needed, and loved?

How could he ever trust those feelings from anyone who didn’t know who he had been until that point?

Goro must have thought about it, at least to some extent. If he thought about his plan and got to the point of having sincere remorse at not having met Akira before it all happened, then it’s likely he had to acknowledge that his plan did not leave him with a happy ending for himself, either. And whether his regret came from wishing he’d never done any of it or regretting the ending he’d chosen for himself now that he had someone who made him want to stick around, it’s hard to say for sure.

But with all that being said...

Everyone’s pointed out how his sacrifice seems silly when he could have taken that step back and joined the thieves on the other side before the wall rose, but the truth of the matter is that he stayed behind intentionally.

So why would he do that?

True, the PT extended their hands and spoke of second chances, but for someone like Goro, those ideas were completely nonsensical because he did not believe that people could change. He was not exempt from this, and he held himself accountable for the things he’d done as both a way of feeling in control of his situation, as well as strengthening his resolve to do what he felt needed to be done no matter the cost. Again, at his core, he was someone with drive and ambition to do so.

And with that belief that people could not change, he was able to justify killing them because they dug their own graves and deserved it. Holding himself to the same standard would align with his justice. In Goro’s mind, he deserved to die alongside everyone else; however, before facing his own justice, he believed others deserved it first. If he’s going down anyway, might as well take them with him.

I would even argue that his challenging the PT even after they’d beaten him with Robin Hood was him resigning himself to his fate. Using Call of Chaos on himself was not a guaranteed victory, and he even expressed to Akira that they would fight and fight until one of them was dead. It’s honestly no surprise that at his defeat, he was dumbfounded that they didn’t just kill him. He didn’t think they should trust him to change, and he may not have been sure of himself to do the same, either. (He may have also internalized Shido’s threat where failure/losing was met with harm or death).

So as a final act of free will, he took himself out of the game and trusted Akira to finish what he started in the way he never could.

In the original version of P5, that would be where the argument ended; however, Royal presented a couple more alternatives for his fate.

First, when he reappeared on Christmas, he immediately turned himself in. Going back to the previous discussions of where his revenge may have put him, this made sense as something he may have already considered to happen to him anyway had he survived his plan. And at least this way, he could once again repay his debt to Akira by ensuring his friend stayed free.

And when that proved to amount to nothing, he was visibly agitated that he’d been released and immediately wanted to fix the oddities that were happening so he could get back to where he felt he deserved to be. There’s no way to know for sure when it clicked that there was a huge possibility he was dead in their original reality (although we can surmise it was early enough after seeing both Wakaba and Kunikazu), but he remained firm in his resolve the entire time.

Conversations at the Jazz Club gave a bit more insight on his feelings toward himself, mostly resulting in admissions to knowing the others didn’t want him around, indirect ways of saying he found people like himself disturbing, and suggesting that he’d been reading up on the topic of happiness in philosophy “for fun.” In Mementos, he also expressed his awareness that the team did not enjoy working with him and that they were put off by how he acted when he fought. To his face, both Haru and Futaba said that they were happy to have him so long as he didn’t do anything to hurt them and to be grateful they were so open-minded, but in the saferoom with Akira, they expressed their true feelings of not wanting him there (where he could still potentially overhear them).

Simply put, he was once again aware that he was unwanted, but he was at least needed. The idea of being loved probably felt so outlandish to him that he didn’t even want to entertain the idea, hence why he continuously pushed Akira away and called his affections brainless or a waste of time. One out of three wishes was probably more than he ever thought he’d get.

Because when he faced death in the engine room, he’d shown himself vulnerable, desperate, and pleading for Akira to fulfill that final promise. He’d sounded like the person who admitted all he wanted was to be wanted, needed, and loved, but by the third semester, he closed off that side of himself entirely as if resigning to the truth that he’d never have those things, so why acknowledge them? Why bother working toward them? Especially if he was just going to disappear again anyway?

So after once again having something to actively work toward, Goro could delay having to think about his future because the possibilities he’d left himself with were either prison or death. When Akira asked him toward the end of the 3rd Semester what his plans were, he dodged the question saying it was none of his business, but he knew there was nothing waiting for him after defeating Maruki. No point even coming up with a bullshit answer when he didn’t even have a future at all.

And he held onto this come February 2, despite having his suspicions confirmed and needing to persuade Akira it was still the best possible option for them to return to their true reality where he might be dead because his life was just a trivial thing anyway. This was also the first time he openly admitted to having been manipulated his whole life and being done with it all, even if it meant giving up the other parts of his dream (being wanted, and possibly even being loved).

Of his three potential plans for himself, he’d chosen death, prison, and death again. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually dead; he believed he was, and he chose it again.

Which brings us to the final scene where he was seen accompanied by men in suits while wearing his typical uniform. While helpful for the player to recognize him, it also gave the impression that he wasn’t trying to hide in public since he would be just as recognizable to anyone else. So whatever he was doing with them is up for debate, but a fair assumption would be that it had to do with Shido’s case, putting him back in the possibility of arrest, or he was able to find a new goal to work toward that he never disclosed on-screen during the few months he was presumed dead. But that goal involved him needing to be escorted, presumably out of town since he’d been at the station.

[ Ideally, the unused scene where he checked himself into the Rehab Facility (or Women’s Shelter) could be treated as canon, and it would mean that working toward making things right and recovering were his new goals (and ones that wouldn’t require a deadline). ]

So did Goro want to die, or did he deem it necessary?

In true Akechi Goro nature, both were just as likely. Even if he craved companionship, he never allowed himself to fully embrace or accept it, even with Akira. He’d made up his mind that they were unattainable goals he’d never truly reach, and thus had nothing left to truly live for outside the goals he felt were obtainable (goals that included taking down the most powerful man in the country and stopping a man with enough power to alter reality and become a god). And once those were over and done with, he was once again left with nothing but a dream he’d never have and a conscience caught up with him. Death probably felt like a comfortable option to not have to face and deal with those thoughts since he’d lived all eighteen years of his life miserable enough already.

His sense of justice mingled with his low self-worth would dictate that he deserved to die; however, Akira’s impact on his life had the power to shift this ever so slightly from being definite to something he’d have to at least consider a bit more. Meaning that he may not have been actively suicidal right away, should he survive, but he would potentially pick up or continue self-destructive tendencies and struggle with those feelings even if he never reached the point of attempting. The possibility would be there, and he could be pushed to that point again.

This is where I slip into explicit interpretation and headcanon territory, but given everything he’s been through and the potential for inheriting his mother’s depression, I do think it dangerous for him to be left alone with himself without any sort of help (therapy, friends, colleagues, etc.) because he’s shown signs of how these things have seriously affected him and the way he thinks. I think he could easily fall into the mindset of not wanting to die, but not wanting to be alive, either, and some days the scale would tilt in favor of one or the other a bit more heavily.

It’s how his sacrifice could hold so much impact because it didn’t feel like a lazy attempt at redemption; he chose to die even after he struggled all his life to make it to where he was. He chose to die when he’d finally been given a chance to live freely. These weren’t just simple solutions no matter how much he’d argue otherwise, even if he saw his life as trivial and disposable.

The short answer: it’s complicated.

I have no idea what Atlus has planned for him from here, but I do hope that he has the opportunity to start over and truly live a life free of Shido’s and Yaldabaoth’s influence. He still has his promise to duel Akira again, as well. So whether he turns himself in, travels the world, takes those steps to heal through therapy/rehab, or spends some time laying low before his rematch, he has more options now than he ever did before.

#hoo boy this is ~2000 words SORRY #mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts #akechi goro #goro akechi #jest ramblings

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thecandywrites · 3 years

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Blood For Gold Part 7

So, I’m still in pain, yes that nerve is still pinched in my back which means my right hip is still numb/in A LOT of pain. But inspiration doesn’t care if the rest of my life is dumpster fire.

That’s my inspiration telling me all kinds of stuff while I was waiting for my chiropractors this week, thank god for google docs so I can write down stuff while I get tens treatments. Also, after doing some research into British currency, a crown is less than a pound, I thought it was more. so from here on out, Audra’s dowry is fifty thousand pounds, also we’re going to still be at the ball because there are some developments in the plot and some easter eggs to bury. Have fun hunting. Also all the thanks to @kriskukko for letting me run with this, it’s so fun. And thank you @punkhorse96 for your amazing feedback. It’s my life blood. Enjoy.

Blood For Gold

Part 7

At dinner you found yourself sitting next to the Dauphin Ramsey while Demsey sat across from you, Callellea on one side of him and Benyana on the other side of him with his brothers on the other sides of them as his brothers Sierge and Tzane being immediately absolutely smitten, having practically fallen for the jewel orcs already and knew that while both had been sent for their brother, that meant that they had, at least in theory, a chance with the other. But both didn’t want to admit that their preferred girl would be for Demsey, if they could get their preferred girl to go for them, the faster the better. They were falling helplessly and hopelessly for them and even as you sat across from them, you could see this.

But you could also see how Demsey, while polite and friendly, was rather unaffected by them and dare you hope? Uninterested? Surely if Demsey, by all accounts would want an orc for a wife, no finer prospects could be found in the world and they were presently on either side of him. But he was acting like they were barely aquaintances that he had no interest in getting to know better, it gave your heart a small, glimmering speck of hope that maybe, just maybe, you had a chance. His declaration that he wanted to get to know you better had given your heart to soar like an eagle, you knew there was now an obstacle in your path. The Dauphin, Ramsey. However you did get to meet Lady Whitesale and she was...a piece of work. You could tell she was used to being one of the prettiest women wherever she was, but upon meeting Calla and Bennie and having their beauty eclipse hers and once she learned that they had been invited there by the royal family and to see them both talk at length with Demsey and his brothers, much less the rest of his family, had her glowering from across the room as she soon gathered the other orc ladies within the court to “talk” and you couldn’t help but overhear them as you passed them, they were trying to find dirt on the new comers and bring up every hurtful rumor and slanderous slur about mouras out of pure jealousy and spite and now knowing the truth that Demsey didn’t like her had you feeling relieved that he didn’t because she was just...awful. But that had not stopped her from trying her luck with Calla’s and Bennie’s brothers, if only to try to pump them for information.

By dinner though, what really got your interest, was the way Calla and Bennie were treating Tzane and Sierge respectively. You knew Calla well enough that she was genuinely taken with Tzane and they were acting like long lost best friends getting reacquainted, eagerly chatting and gesturing while they tried to eat.

Bennie though, she was working Sierge practically up to a foaming froth and she was taking delight in the fact that Sierge was practically drooling over her while eating out of her hand metaphorically speaking. Bennie had a way of behaving and emoting in such a way that you would never know what she was really playing at, much less really thinking or feeling until after she played her hand, no matter the situation, a skill you had lost over the last few years but one you knew you would have to rebuild and sharpen anew if you were going to compete for Demsey’s attentions while dodging Ramsey’s.

Because, while mouras could charm crowds of thousands, if not tens or even hundreds of thousands, mouras were never more devastatingly charming and alluring than one on one. You remembered when you turned on the charm for Edward when he was the best option available to you, Edward didn’t stand a chance then, and now you could see that Sierge wouldn’t either against Bennie, she could practically get him to propose if she went at it much harder tonight. She was practically bewitching him, the same way you had bewitched Edward a lifetime ago. But such knowledge left you feeling ashamed for a behavior that had been taught to you in youth by your superiors. You had always just thought it was the moura bride way, an art form. Now it just felt as it was- dishonest.

But Calla though, she wasn’t being charming just for the sake of being charming, she was being genuine and it was like comparing bright sunshine to the light of a candle to you as you realized, no wonder the rest of the Morrigan family could barely stand you, they could tell you were disingenuous and in this moment, you couldn’t blame them for that impression. You could still blame them for the extreme actions they took after though.

“Is what you wish to retrieve from your house your moura contract my dear Audra?” Ramsey asked in marinai from a murmur into your ear as you instinctively bristled at his closeness, at feeling his hot breath on your skin almost made your skin crawl while his sister Charlotte sat on the other side of you, she was lovely, but you could tell her parents kept her purposefully naïve as most English women were at their age, but that was simply the difference in culture you supposed.

You agreed to be Ramsey’s friend, however it was almost painfully obvious that he was wanting more than friendship from you but right now, you were not inclined to give him what he wanted. But you were curious to see what he was willing to give for it. Morbidly so.

“It is, since Calla and Bennie are my friends, I wish for them to read it. I want them going into a future they might enjoy here with their eyes wide open, and not be blindsided as I was, but since I have signed the contract I can not speak of it, but nowhere is it written that I can not have other people read it.” You answered.

“There is no need. I have a copy of it at my own residence at Windsor and if you truly wish for them to read it, I can provide it for them without you having to expose your own hiding place for it, I have been going over it in detail for the last week since your coming out into society was brought to my attention, if you’ll forgive me, I only wished to do my research and upon reading it, it intrigued me, just like you do. However I have had the best moura lawyers go over it and there are so many troubling details and inconsistencies in it, that make no sense and now that I have your permission to investigate the matter further, I will do so with expedition. The Morrigans have done you wrong and while the current situation saw you some justice, more is owed to you, and if you will simply hold off in showing your friends the contract because I do not want them to get the impression that what you experienced is the norm because it absolutely isn’t, in particular the one that Richard and yourself signed, I will do everything in my power to open up every prospect for you that I can, including returning to the stables, if you so choose to return to them, but not as a bride, but as a dowager.” Ramsey offered and you softly gasped as your jaw dropped and you lost your grip on your fork and knife as they clattered on the plate which seemed to garner everyone’s attention from around you, Demsey especially seemed to pause and stare, silently asking with a look to see if you were alright while the marinai word for dowager- halmana seemed to instantly engrave itself into his mind while Bennie seemed pleased as she gave the Dauphin a giddy and excited smile of approval while Calla too seemed excited since they had been lowkey overhearing your conversation while they carried out their own.

“Dowager? How could you possibly elevate my status to that of a dowager?” You questioned as you picked up your wine glass and held the cold crystal to your burning cheeks as you could feel everyone’s gaze weigh heavily on you before you drank what remained in your glass and got it refilled.

“Oh ever so easily, because as a dowager, your own possibilities to who you can remarry would be limitless, whereas now, you may only remarry who you wish within the nobility in England, which is not necessarily that promising, otherwise you may lose what little bit of security you currently enjoy. But as a dowager, that security may be paid out to you whether you chose to get remarried or not, whether you have a hundred children by a hundred different men or not and I want to make sure that when and if you ever do decide to have children, in or even out of wedlock, that they will also be provided for. Would this please you?” Ramsey inquired, mentally dangling every carrot he could think of because while he could see Calla and Bennie work their charms on Demsey’s brothers, he knew that at any moment, they were going to turn to Demsey and Demsey, besides being spoiled for choice, will be hopeless to resist them, they were simply gaining speed and a foothold with his brothers before they went in for the kill.

But for now- Ramsey reasoned that he must tempt you into not doing anything that would ruin that before he could fully dazzle you himself. He needed to get you into a spectator state of mind, instead of a contender, that Calla and Bennie clearly were. Because once you chose him, your own dazzling charm aimed at him after you’ve taken in all of his greatest sides, then it will be seen as you trying to court him, and your choosing him since that is the only way the contract would be satisfied, it was your choice, but he had to make himself the best choice, much like Edward had done for himself.

“It would.” You tentatively answered, trying and failing to not sound weary of him.

“However I fear that if you have the power to lift me up so high, then that means you have the power to tear me down so low, lower than I am now. And I would be better off without your interference to begin with then. If anything, especially your mood or whim were to decide one way or the other. We are friends are we not? How can I give my friends, ones that I have only known for a night so much power over myself and my situation? Since you have read my contract you know that I have suffered from a power imbalance before. And this time around, I refuse to give such power to anyone, even to a friend.” You began as Bennie’s jaw dropped in almost horror at your words while Calla seemed to weigh that over as well as Demsey noticed their reactions to your words and never before had he needed to know what in the world was being said.

“Oh no, you misunderstand me completely my dear Audra, I would never dream of tearing down something I helped build up, especially you, no I would never dream of meaning you any harm, no I want to protect you from all harm, from all others and even if you chose to have nothing to do with me, I would still choose to intervene to try to get you justice, you are moura as I am moura, and there must be more protections in place for all mouras. How could I in good conscience have not just yourself but three mouras here and not have safety nets in place for all of them?” Ramsey quickly reassured you as Demsey frowned, something about what he said, you clearly took offense to. He just needed to figure out what that word meant and why you’d have a bad reaction to it.

“Then I will hold you to your word and I will wait and see how you follow through and deliver then if you can truly make myself, Calla and Bennie all dowagers, and none of us owe you anything in return and once it would or could be done, it would never be reversed for any reason, so that it would be written in stone as it were, or I will have to retract my permission.” You firmly insisted.

“Oh absolutely, I would expect nothing less.” Ramsey assured you as that seemed to satisfy you as Calla and Bennie seemed pleased with that as well.

“So how long would you prefer I wait for my friends to read my contract?” You asked.

“At least a week, but no more than a month, tops.” Ramsey suggested, figuring that was more than enough time to court you so well, you would feel inclined to return the favor of him doing all this by marrying him and your yearly thirty thousand pounds a year will go straight to his pocket along with whatever stocks and shares in the Morrigan companies will also pay out too.

“While I do trust you Ramsey, I have also learned to get everything down in writing.” You suggested.

“Of course, I shall have something for you by the end of the day tomorrow.” He readily agreed.

“So what do you want in return for such endeavors?” You asked him.

“Only that I at least have a viable spot in your heart to be able to court you properly.” Ramsey answered.

“Does or rather- would any of it hinge on me accepting your offers of courtship?” You asked.

“No, whether you chose me or not, you are royal moura, such efforts are owed whether I stand to gain anything or not.” Ramsey lied rather convincingly but you could see his falseness in his eyes.

“Then I want that also in writing and signed by the highest judges and courts in the land who can hold you accountable for it.” You proposed.

“Oh of course.” Ramsey agreed, because he doubted he would really have to follow through, you were going to be his by the end of the week, he was sure of it.

“So, since you’ve looked into my contract, have you seen the evidence of why I was deemed unfit to return to the stables?” You asked him.

“I did not need to, I read the report myself.” Ramsey reassured you.

“Then you should know that I will never again tolerate that kind of treatment. If anyone dares to mistreat me again, I will have no qualms or hesitation to fight back using whatever means necessary, laws of decorum or decency be damned.” You leveled as Demsey did his best to keep composed but he knew a threatening tone when he heard it and to hear you threaten the Dauphin was thrilling and exciting. He didn’t know what the Dauphin did to offend you but he was incredibly proud of you for returning it to the Dauphin’s face, he had to fight not to agree with whatever you were saying in marinai because he had no idea what you were saying but he was willing to bet that whatever it was, you were right about it.

“Oh of course, anyone who dares mistreat you is to court death.” Ramsey readily agreed and the victorious grin you gave him was particularly beautiful.

“Then we have an understanding, so if you will give me a piece of paper, I will write down what can be brought from my home and taken to the Windsor Palace so that I don’t have to miss any of this ball after all.” You suggested before he readily hand you his little notebook from his breast pocket and opened up to clean pages as you used the pencil from your dance card to fill out what you wanted from home.

“By the way, did you like your dress?” Ramsey asked in English as he watched you write things down, noting your gorgeous handwriting.

“I did, it had more moura touches than I was expecting.” You answered back in English as you wrote down what you wanted from home.

“Oh good, when I saw you dining with the Morrigans at the Savoy from my private box a couple of weeks ago, which is what initially piqued my curiosity and intrigued me, seeing you look like a sparkling jewel among the dreary cobble of the occupants, I inquired where you had gone that day and to find out which dressmaker you used, I couldn’t help but make sure she added more moura details, in particular more Kilani and Kalinish touches, so that you didn’t feel so divorced from your homeland. I understand that the Morrigans have done all they can in that endeavor.” Ramsey offered as Demsey nearly choked on his food as he realized that’s how Ramsey knew of his partiality to you, he saw it for himself, while also kicking himself that he didn’t think to do such a thing, he was too busy paying for his sister’s new dresses, while he also knew that such a move would probably be inappropriate, for a gentleman such as himself to do such a intimate gesture for a woman he wasn’t married to, let alone a lady in society that he was not married to, his sister Kiera would have thrown a proper fit. Demsey was only partially listening to the conversations the Czarina and the Princess were having with his brothers as he watched your own interaction with Ramsey closely, he didn’t know what you were talking about but he knew the tones of a negotiation when he heard them, but he also wondered what you were negotiating. You didn’t have any ties, at least in business to the Dauphin but his gut was screaming at him that something big just went down right in front of him and he was keen to discover what it was.

But a thought did occur to Demsey. The Dauphin knew no bounds, if he was allowed more power in the House of Lords, he would be an unstoppable political force, and the only ones to keep him in check was the royal family itself. The Dauphin was always happy to curry favor of everyone around him and was a natural political figure and even though he was connected to the royal family, he was also heavily tied with the common man and was seen as a down to earth, working man’s man even though he was born a blue blood himself. The Dauphin practically fed on popular opinion and loved to bask in the public’s adoration. But also had the ear of practically everyone in any position of authority. Including the judges and the courts. If what the Czarina had said was true, he could and most likely be talking to you about your own contract with the stables and with the Morrigans.

Demsey had actually looked into it himself, but because he didn’t have that many friends in law only because his soap business didn’t need that much involvement in it and he had little nerve for the arguing of court in the house of lords only because he was a new lord and therefore didn’t have that much sway or power other than his one little vote and would rather just stay in his office all day and do something productive. But when he tried to look into you from that aspect, he had been firmly dismissed from even looking into it and was reminded that his own hold onto his own nobility was always a delicate hold, and that to question the dealings between a moura and her stables, was too dangerous a game, even for kings.

“Are you alright Duke Demsey?” You asked him when he started coughing and sputtering while Calla and Bennie both turned and started patting his back.

“Yes, the partridge is so delicious, I tried to inhale it instead of eat it.” He answered as he beat his chest with his fist to get a normal breathing rhythm going again before taking several long pulls of wine from his glass before it was readily refilled as you also realized that your own behavior towards Demsey was also clearly observed, by the Dauphin and who knows who else and it was that- that was the reason Calla and Bennie were here. Because of you. You would have to be more careful from now on, especially at Windsor, when every servant could be Ramsey’s eyes and ears. But if the Dauphin delivered, then at least Calla could be with Tzane if she genuinely liked him as well as you could discern she did, and for that you would put up with this. But having Demsey so close for however long, would give you a chance to get to know him better too and if you could at least show him that you were interested in him, but you would have to be discrete about it, but maybe you had a chance.

After the ball, on the way to the Windsor palace Demsey sat with his brothers as they both eagerly looked out the windows of the carriage as Tzane and Sierge were bragging about their jewel orc companions and what they were eagerly looking forward to seeing of them at Windsor because their companions had talked about all the things they had wanted to do while they were there, like griffin riding and a moura’s version of sword fencing.

“Did either of you find out what halmana means?” Dempsey asked them after both of them seemed to take a breath.

“I do! It means dowager in marinai, it’s a classification for moura women. Very few moura women have that classification because it means that they can do whatever they want and marry whoever they want without anyone’s input or approval, even the stables have no authority over a dowager, in fact it’s the stables that have to listen and obey dowager moura women.” Tzane readily offered as Demsey’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Demsey was expecting it to mean something along the lines of a ‘whore’ or ‘bitch’ or something offensive like that. Not...dowager as in queen dowager, dowager empress, kind of thing.

“That doesn’t make any sense, why would Audra act like that was an insult? When the Dauphin said that to her, she...” Demsey thought aloud as he frowned and shook his head no.

“I asked Calla that and she told me that the conversation was actually about Audra’s contract with the stables and the Dauphin was telling her that he was looking into it and was going to be trying to get her that status because she is currently has the status of shakan, which means lowly outsider- one not welcome back because you have little to no value as a bride, that you’re ruined beyond repair and is the lowliest of moura’s classifications. Calla said that there was almost a revolt in Kilan, which is the prefecture, or state, county kind of thing- her family rules in Dorierra when she was branded as a shakan because she left as a nescia, which basically means princess because she has more royalty in her pedigree than our own royal family from dynasties all over the world but mainly in the middle east, her family line was one of the first original moura lines in the stables when the stables were developed. She’s as original of a moura as mouras can get and had she not married Edward, she should have married an emperor or something like that. Calla said that it would be like a prince being stripped of his nobility and royalty and branded a commoner of a foreign country, a great humiliation, since then, no other moura bride ever set foot on English soil for fear of their own standing would suffer. Calla said that the royal family had to put up an enormous sum just to get them here and make all kinds of promises that their own status would only increase if they came. Because since Audra’s demotion, the price for a moura bride to come to here has been sky high, way too high for anyone but royalty to pay, the royal family had to pay Calla and Bennie seventy five thousand pounds each, just to come here for six weeks.” Tzane explained as Demsey could only cough as if he got sucker punched in the gut as Sierge whistled lowly.

“But that doesn’t explain why Audra would be weary of such a thing being offered to her.” Demsey frowned.

“That’s because Audra pointed out to the Dauphin that if he had the power to lift her up so high, he would also have the power to bring her back down on his whim and that she would be better off having him not interfere at all much less have nothing to do with him.” Tzane revealed.

“Oh! That makes sense, that makes so much more sense now.” Demsey nodded in understanding.

“Well you got to applaud her for realizing that, most women would be so distracted by the prospect of becoming a dowager, she wouldn’t think that what could be given could be taken away just as easily, which knowing the Dauphin, is sadly a possibility. She’s smart, I’ll give her that.” Demsey nodded.

“Yeah but if she’s a lowly shakan, that doesn’t explain the Dauphin’s interest, he would think her beneath him.” Sierge argued.

“Except, Audra told me that Edward provided a living for her after his death, it must be of some great worth and her dowry of fifty thousand pounds, if he succeeded in elevating her to a dowager, not only would she be a lady of great wealth, but also that of high class. She would be, relatively speaking, perfect for him. And with his ties to the courts and to the royal family, he could push for the Morrigans to pay out her yearly allowance for the rest of her life, even when she was remarried, and if he succeeded, she would be the most eligible bachelorette in all of Europa, and the stables would even bid for her to return. It’s a gamble that’s worth the risk for the Dapuhin. Just her dowry alone could set him straight from all of his gambling debts. But the real question is, is the gamble worth it for her?” Demsey realized.

“It will be, Bennie told me that Audra negotiated for Bennie and Calla to be dowagers as well and that Audra demanded that the offer be in writing signed off by the highest judges and courts in the land, ones that would hold the Dauphin to his word and to the letter of the contract and that she didn’t owe him anything in return for his interference and that once it’s done, it can never be undone, even though the Dauphin only asked for a chance to court her in return, not that she’d say yes or accept the advances. Which for her, shows incredible insight and forethought, almost as if someone has warned of his character.” Sierge noted with an amused grin.

“You two do realize, that there’s no way this family could ever afford a moura, much less a jewel orc moura from the stables, if their fee for six weeks of their time was seventy five thousand pounds, which is three times as much as our family makes in a year, we can’t afford them.” Demsey pointed out.

“But if they become dowagers, they could, in theory, waive their fee if they really, genuinely liked us and wanted to stay with us, Calla said so herself.” Tzane pointed out as Sierge seemed pleased to hear that too.

“Why do I get the feeling that we’re in water over our heads?” Demsey asked his brothers.

“Because we probably are.” Tzane shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s a really good thing all of us can swim.” Sierge grinned triumphantly just as they were pulling up to the palace of Windsor, their family’s other carriage that had their sisters and parents ahead of them.

“True.” Demsey murmured to himself.

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