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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T for language and mild medical drama

Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans

Genre: Hurt + comfort

Summary: Bela is somewhat unprepared to deal with a soulmate who has no clue about her condition, her family, or any of the village's secrets. Thankfully, her sister Cassandra is more than willing to be a bad example. Also there's some fluff.

Notes: For reference, each of my soulmate stories take place in their own contained timeline, since they each involve different types of soulmates. So in this one, Cass doesn't currently have a soulmate.

Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow

2: Tangled Strands

A gentle humming fills the space around you, as fingers slowly run through your hair. As far as you can tell you had fallen back asleep, for several hours, and you were just now waking back up. No longer holding you down, your soulmate is curled up next to you. There’s still a needle in your arm, much to your irritation, but now you can finally see what it’s connected to: An IV for a transfusion. Explains why I’m feeling so much better than before, you think. Then you’re turning your head to the other side, eager to finally get a good look at your soulmate. Instantly you’re blushing, tongue tying itself into a knot, because wow are you lucky.

“Feeling any better?” She asked, as soon as your gaze met hers. You try to stutter out a confirmation, but you’re too distracted by the soft curve of her smile to speak, and barely even manage a nod. That beautiful smile grows wider in response. “Good. I couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering more, after what you’ve already been through.” Now her smile fades, and she looks away for a few moments. Watching it makes your heart ache. So you swallow the lump in your throat, willing yourself to relax, before trying a little comforting of your own.

“I am safe now, am I not? Moreso, we have too much to talk about for us to dwell on the ill circumstances of our introduction. Let us cherish this time, in respite, with our hearts open wide to one another,” you said, donning your softest smile. Somehow your words fulfill their purpose, and your soulmate is once again grinning. Slowly she leans forward to rest her forehead against yours. Then she’s speaking, voice as smooth as the sheets you lay on.

“You are right, of course. I simply wish I could have saved you sooner,” she replied, tone betraying the sadness that her expression otherwise hid. Before you can protest, she continues talking, and you soon forget all about your qualms. “To think I don’t even know your name yet… nor you mine, I suppose. Let’s remedy that, yes? I am Bela Dimitrescu.” Something about her last name feels familiar to you, but not to the point of clear recognition. Instead of inquiring, you return her favor, giving her your own name. She repeats it back a few times, letting the syllables roll off her tongue, and you feel your heart skip a few beats. “A lovely name for a lovely soul, perfectly paired.”

A pause, followed by Bela reaching out to examine your IV. Following her gaze, you turn to the metal hook adjacent to the bed, where a blood bag hangs. Only a few drops remain inside. Just as when you first awoke, Bela gives a soft hum, then rises into a sitting position. Your first instinct is to copy the motion, and you’re relieved when (this time) she doesn’t push you back down. Both of you quietly inch your hands closer until they’re laid on top of each other.

“I wish I knew more about medicine, but unfortunately my family is more experienced in the creation of wounds than the treatment of them,” Bela said, scowling. Confused, you tilt your head at a slight angle, watching her with interest. Am I supposed to know who she’s referring to? My memories of the past couple days are still hazy, you think. “Do… do you remember how you ended up in the dungeon? I know you wanted to speak of happier things, and we can, soon. It’s just… Knowing how you arrived here may help me deal with the consequences of freeing you. Mother will be dreadfully upset that I’ve interrupted a draining, even if we are soulmates.”

“Wait, are you saying…? The intimidating giantess who strung me up and attempted to bleed me dry… is your mother?” You asked, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. This was an unexpected development, for sure.

“You didn’t know?” Bela replied, eyes going wide for a moment. Clearly she wouldn’t have said anything if she realized you weren’t already aware. Suddenly the tension in the room is palpable, with an uncomfortable silence overtaking the two of you. In the moment, you cannot even bring yourself to look at Bela, too stunned by this new knowledge. Eventually she breaks the silence, voice sounding unsure for once. “I realize that this is a lot to take in, if you need time to process it, I… I can go. But you need to understand that our situation is far more complicated than it might appear. We cannot survive without the blood of others- it is what sustains us when nothing else can.”

Now you’re staring at her like she’s crazy, and she’s standing up, moving to the other side of the room. She draws back a curtain, gazing out into the snow covered hills. Every muscle in your body is urging you to run while she’s distracted. Thread of fate be damned, this went far beyond anything you had ever imagined having to deal with. You come so close to ripping the IV right out of your arm. But a gentle tug on your soul string makes you pause, remembering all the times this bond gave you hope in dark times. Had she felt the same way, all these years? What had she gone through, in this absurd castle, on the very edges of civilization? You pull on the red thread, feeling a wave of composure wash over you.

“It appears there is much I need to learn. But is that not the very nature of our connection? We know, simply, that we are bound to each other, though we know not what shapes our souls take so that we might put them together, nor even what roles we must play. I cannot say that I understand your plight, my dear, but I will try, as is my obligation, and my honor,” you said, wishing you could hold her, and cursing your IV. As soon as the first word leaves your mouth, Bela is turning around, watching you with a bittersweet expression. Once you’re done she’s moving closer, as if reading your mind, extending a hand to cup your cheek. Then she leans forward to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Oh, how I have longed for this- to be with you, to get to know you.”

“As did I,” she murmured. You can’t help but lean into her touch, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. “Perhaps I should introduce you to my family? I imagine you’ll be needing breakfast anyway, and bringing human food back to my quarters would raise more suspicion than I’d like.” Well, the moment couldn’t last forever, could it?

“Only if you promise that your mother won’t suspend me by my wrists again. Or by any other part of me. Shall we simply put suspension off the table altogether?” You asked, half teasing. To be entirely honest, you were equally worried about Bela’s sisters. Well, the people you had heard other prisoners whispering about, who were the daughters of the giantess, and by connecting a few dots were also, presumably, Bela’s sisters. Apparently they preferred to play with their food. Unless, of course, Bela was one of the daughters you had heard about, and would have easily torn into you if not for your connection. Let’s not dwell on that concept, you think, glad to be distracted by your soulmate.

“I will not let anyone harm you anymore, my beloved. My mother would not stand so firmly in the way of my happiness,” Bela reassured, though you detected a hint of uncertainty in her tone. Still, there wasn’t much you could do other than trust her. “Now, let me take care of your bandages, then we’ll head downstairs…”

---------------------------------

“Who the fuck is this?” An unfamiliar voice asked, as you meandered down the corridor, arm around Bela for support. As soon as she hears the person speak, your soulmate is freezing in place, casting a worried glance over her shoulder. When you turn as well, you spot someone dressed almost identically to Bela. However, the woman wears a yellow pendant, as opposed to a red one, and her hair is a dark brown. It feels safe to assume that she’s one of the sisters you’ve heard about. Which understandably makes you nervous, to the point where you almost want to hide behind Bela. Instead, you stand tall, attempting to seem unfazed by either her presence or her vulgarity.

“Mind your manners, Cassandra,” Bela hissed, taking more of an aggressive stance than you had anticipated. “This, dear sister, is my soulmate. And if you even think about harming them, or getting in our way, I will tear you apart.” While you’re downright shocked at the intensity of Bela’s statement, her sister doesn’t look at all impressed, and eyes you with minimal interest. Better than looking at you with hatred, right? Apparently not, as Bela moves to stand between the two of you, eyes narrowed. There’s a clear stiffness in her posture that leaves you anxious. Cassandra seems to notice it as well, and laughs, before taking a few steps in your direction. Then your soulmate mimics the movement, forcing you to do so as well.

“They’re human,” Cassandra snapped, pausing to sniff the air and scowl. “Here I thought your soulmate would have to be special, if they’re to compare to your ego. You’re disappointed, aren’t you? Having to settle for this.” With that she shifts, flesh writhing, making your stomach churn as you watch her disintegrate into a cloud of… flies? What the hell is wrong with this family? Can Bela do that too? I hope not, you think. Soon you’re pulled from your thoughts, however, as the swarm circles around you, single insects occasionally surging forward to cut at your skin. But Bela is grabbing you by the sleeve and tugging you to her chest, moving against a wall so that her body shielded your own. Your eyes clamp shut as you shake in her arms. When the buzzing stops, it is quickly replaced with cruel laughter. “That fragile, hmm? I can’t wait to see what mother thinks. See you at breakfast, sister!”

Then the two of you are alone, still pressed against the wall, staying still until the sound of footsteps fade. You’re stunned, unsure of how to react. The fact that a few drops of blood roll down your cheek only makes things worse. Still, Bela managed to prevent you from getting too hurt, and the few wounds on your body are negligible. Ever filled with gratitude, you hold her close as you try to stutter out a few sentences.

“Is she always this hostile, or am I truly not what you had expected? No, pay me no mind, it hardly matters. Thank you for protecting me,” you whispered. In response, Bela gives you a little squeeze, then pulls back enough to wipe the blood from your face. There’s a hint of something odd in her expression, which you interpret to be related to her apparent ‘need for blood’. Thankfully, she is in perfect control, and does not frenzy the same way you had read about fictional vampires doing. But she does hesitate, words dying on her tongue, like there are a thousand things she wants to say, and no words to say them with. “It’s alright, my dear. Let’s just go to breakfast, like we planned, and hope your sister behaves better when supervised.”

Bela nods, quickly, before taking your hand in her own. Whatever awaited you in the dining room, the two of you would be ready. Hopefully.

#babe why aren't you this nice to ME #bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #soulmate au #imagine bela's soulmate meeting cassandra's #they'd be very unlikely friends #cassandra would HATE how well behaved her soulmate would be #like #tumblr keeps rearranging the order of my tags???#I'll fix that later

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forever-rogue · 3 years

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Hi Patricia <3 i saw only 1 Pero Tovar on your list but I love it. I'd like to send a request. Pero taking care of you when you're sick/injured (cold, twisted ankle, something minor) full worry mode and a bit in over his head.

This is just some softness 🥺💕 I hope you enjoy!

Pero Tovar x Fem!Reader ; warnings: none

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

You sighed heavily as you listened to the roosters and other nesting birds start to rustle around. Your whole body was tired and acting, your nose was stuffed, a deep cough lingered in your chest, and you just felt so run down.

It was likely just a cold, something you were often plagued with during the colder months, but usually worked through them. Today was no exception - there was much to do around the farm and the house and it allotted almost no down time. A storm was coming as well and you wanted to make sure that Pero had as much help as possible.

Reaching for the glass of water at the bedside table, you quickly downed it all in go. You hadn't remembered leaving it there the night before, meaning that Pero must have heard you tossing, turning, and sniffling throughout the night. Taking a moment to close your eyes, you willed yourself to gather up all of your strength to get out of bed and go about your day.

"What are you doing, mi amor?" at the sound of its warm, soft voice, your eyes snapped open and met the gentle, brown eyes of your husband. He came over and knelt at your side, his large hands finding your face as he looked you over, "you must go back to sleep and rest."

"I can't," you insisted meekly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "we have work to do, and I don't want you to do it all."

"Nonsense," he insisted softly as he tried to push you back into bed with a firm, but gentle touch, "you are exhausted and you need to rest. You won't do anyone any good while you feel and look like death."

"Thank you for your kind words dear husband," you managed to laugh momentarily before it turned into a coughing fit. He raised an eyebrow as if to say 'see' and you rolled your eyes dramatically, "fine. I will stay in this bed only until I feel better since I appear to look like death."

"Even in such a state you are more beautiful than all the stars and moon," he pulled the thick down blanket over you before tucking it around your shivering form, "now I just want you to feel better. Please rest for me?"

"Are you going to dote on me like a mother hen the entire time?" you teased lightly as it was his turn to roll his eyes. For how rough and gruff he appeared to be, he always managed to have a soft spot for you.

"If that's what is required for you to rest so you can get better, then yes," he brushed some of the stray hairs off your face before using the back of his hand to feel your forehead, "now get some rest. I will fetch you some breakfast and then tend to the chores. There is no rush, but you must take it easy to get better. Yes?"

"Yes Pero," your eyes felt like they were already getting heavy as you laid against the soft pillows and relaxed, "I love you."

"I love you," he replied with a gentle touch to your cheek, "I'll be back shortly."

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Come on," he whispered softly when he came back with a tray of breakfast in his hands. You offered him a sleepy smile before sitting up and scooting over so he would have some room. He placed the tray on your lap before giving you a curious look, "what are you doing?"

"Join me," you insisted as he laughed lightly before getting into bed next to you. Normally you'd be nervous about him catching whatever you had, but if he were to catch it, he would have already done so. The man had a strong immune system it appeared, unlike you, "eat with me."

"You're the one that needs to eat," he reminded as you scoffed and took a piece of bread, and stuffing it gently into his mouth before he could argue.

"As do you," you grabbed a spoon of porridge, "and don't argue with me. I know you have not yourself broken your fast."

"And just how do you know this?" he grinned through a mouthful of bread layered with butter and jam.

"I know my husband," you reminded him, "am I wrong?"

"Of course not," he said softly as you laughed at him, "you always did know me like no other."

"That's because I am your wife - and I love you," you grabbed another spoonful and continued eating. It didn't take long before you were done and there weren't even any crumbs left. You hadn't realized just how ravenous you were, but apparently your illness had really taken everything out of you.

"Have you had enough?" Pero offered you a questioning look as you nodded, "even though I took half of your food?"

"You made plenty and then some - don't worry mother hen, I am adequately nourished."

"Good," he kissed the top of your head, "now back to rest, I am going to bring you tea and water. Later we can have a hot bath. How does that sound, mi amor?"

"That sounds perfect," you mumbled as you burrowed into the pillows and blankets, "thank you for taking care of me."

"I would do anything for you," he promised as you gave him the sweet, saccharine smile he had fallen in love with, "now stop talking, and go to sleep!"

»»————-　♡　————-««

Pero spent the next several days closely tending to your every need and whim. You felt bad that he had to deal with everything around the house and small farm on his own, but he didn't even complain for a moment. It was hard work, surely, but he didn't mind doing it. If nothing else, it reminded him of how hard both of you worked.

He'd get up before the sun, start work and then stop to prepare breakfast for the both of you before going back to work for the day. Pero would make it a point to come in and check on you and see if you needed water or anything else.

Because of all the rest and careful looking after, it wasn't long before you were feeling better, and far away from death's door.

At the end of the long week, you finally felt well enough to get up and around to tending to some of the house chores. You spied your husband outside, feeding the goats and sheep as he appeared to sing to them. You'd heard it before, well aware of his soft and gentle demeanor, but he'd never admit it. It was still endearing.

A warm settled over your heart as you started to gather items to make his favorite meal for dinner; it was slightly more tedious and sucked up lost of your energy, but you were glad to do it. He had looked after you so well, you wanted to give him a little something in return.

»»————-　♡　————-««

"What in the heavens?" Pero was hit by the smell of delicious cooking as soon as he walked in and found your busy setting the small table, "my sweetest wife, what are you up to? You should be resting!"

"I am feeling much, much better, mi amor," you beamed as he pulled you into his arms and pressed a kiss to your temple, "all because of your wonderful care. I couldn't help myself - I wanted to do something special for you too."

"You didn't have to," his expression softened as his eyes crinkled in the corners in the way you adored, "this is…"

"I wanted too, Pero," you insisted with a soft kiss to his plush lips, "you always take such good care of me, let me take care of you too. And don't argue with me for once in your life!"

"Alright," he agreed with a quick peck, "but tell me what I can do to help."

"Since you are so insistent," you pointed at the small stove, "start plating up the food. Afterwards, I have one more surprise for you!"

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Pero? Where are you my love?" you'd just finished pouring hot water in the tub and perfuming it with soft oils. Your own body was aching and screaming for the relief, but you wanted your husband to join you first.

"Coming!" you heard his quick footsteps coming towards the bathroom, hoping he wasn't worried that you'd done something to hurt yourself. He almost burst into the small bathroom, a worried expression that quickly turned to surprise coloring using features, "what's this?"

"A surprise," you grinned, pointing at the tub, "for both of us. I thought we could both use this."

"A perfect end to the day," he melted under your watchful gaze. You started to pull off your dress, feeling his eyes on you. He motioned for you to come closer, to which you easily complied, before tenderly helping to strip you of your garments, "such grace and beauty."

"You flatter me," you sighed contentedly as he kissed along your bare shoulder, "I'm starting to feel tired again and the hot water is calling my name. Here - your turn."

You turned him around and slowly - reverently - started to strip him of his clothing. Bit by bit until all clothes were on the floor and the two of you were as bare as the day you were born. He held your hand and helped you into the tub, quickly stepping in after you.

Pero laid against the back of the tub before pulling you against his chest. You eagerly settled against him, and he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you. Moments like this, where it was just the two of you, quiet and gentle, were your favorites. Because they didn't happen incredibly often, you'd learned to cherish them.

"I love you, Pero," you whispered softly as your eyes closed you listened to the soft beat of his heart, "thank you for everything. You always take the best care of me and you mean more to me than you will ever know."

"I love you, mi amor," he agreed, "I've always got you. Rest now, my sweetest wife."

And so you did; it wasn't long before your eyes were closed and you were fast asleep. Pero let you sleep for a little while before he gently washed your body and hair; you were half aware of what was going on, a small smile tugging on your features. When he was done and you were dried and dressed in clean clothing, he brought you to bed, tucking in you before getting into his side and doing the same. Before he did anything else, he pulled you into his arms and you fell asleep on his chest.

"I love you so much, mi amor," he whispered as he started to fall asleep, listening to your soft snores, "always."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#Pero Tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the great wall #forever-rogue's follower celebration

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warmau · 3 years

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love languages x day6

*this post was commissioned | commissioner asked for something loving + warm.....so here is something overly cheesy indulgent and hopefully warm

sungjin

acts of service

doesn’t think twice about peeling all of the tangerines himself and sharing the halves with you without a word - just one slice for you, one slice for him

can’t leave you alone when you’re cooking or cleaning.

you tell him he’s busy from all of the bands schedules and he should just let you do it for once but a moment later

he’s standing beside you and chopping vegetables or he’s snatching the broom from you before you can even get started

you don’t complain too much though, he does look really cute in the kitchen apron

a man of little words he literally does all of this because he wants to say he loves and appreciates you but the words don’t come out easy like they might for other members

so when you’re alone and you tell him you love him you cant really get worked up over the fact that he barely mumbles something into your hair

because he’s shy about it - but he’s not shy about getting up first and bringing the cup of coffee to you in bed

people don’t give him as much credit as they should, which frustrates you, because sungjin is the kind of boyfriend and just the kind of friend who will bend over backwards for the people he cares for

from lugging all the instruments around, helping members with suitcases, or volunteering himself for the short end of the stick in bad situations

sometimes it gets so bad you have to put your hands on his face and steady him and be like sungjin, no. the boys can handle it without you.

and he’s like but im the leader-

and youre like shhhhhhhh before i kiss you so hard you cant breath for the next five minutes

and sungjin stares at you with those big brown eyes and hes kinda like well now im just gonna say something so you do tha-oH

you and him get like an hour alone before he has to leave on tour and it is supposed to be full of sweet words and i miss yous

and sungjin just comes in with a bag full of groceries and you’re like is that for your tour

and he’s like oh no this is some stuff that i noticed you needed from last time

and you’re like babe you’re leaving in like thirty minutes stop thinking about things to do for me

and he just looks at you and says; “i can’t stop, im always going to be thinking about what i can do for you.”

just another way of saying ill miss you and i love you suppose LOL

jae

words of affirmation

will never admit it out loud but if someone isn’t telling him he’s doing a good job. he will die.

and guess who gets that job? you - the second jae fell in love with you (and he do so very clumsily) you have been hired

jae does this kind of little look over his shoulder at you whenever he does something he thinks is cool or fun and you have dated for a while so immediately you’re like

“that was amazing come here” and he trots over with literal hearts spinning around his head (youngk gagging in the distance)

but if you miss the little beat then jae just looks like a puppy that got left out in the rain until you rush over to do damage control LOL

with work or anything like that it’s this sort of playful thing between you two

where you’re like jae you are the best at skateboarding. singing. playing guitar. all of it. and he’s like am i the best? really? and you’re like YES THE BEST

but the real affirmation he chases from you is the guarantee that you ........ love him

some people like to be close without words, some people can talk with their hands or gestures

but jae wants it said - and you are happy to oblige

kiss him all you want and not like he’s gonna not enjoy it but when you say something about how he makes you the happiest person on earth well some things are just better you know?

when you say this stuff to him while you’re ontop of him and jae just - eyes rolling back but let’s move on

when days are really bad or jae is not in a good mood everyone has learned that the cure for him is your voice

so sungjin calls you and even if jae tries to be like IM FINE sungjin puts you on speaker and is like “please cheer him up and be as gushy as possible in front of all of us”

you: “jae you know i adore you and you’re my pumpkin pie sweeti-”

jae skidding across the table to take you off speaker: “I WILL TALK TO THEM IN THE OTHER ROOM-”

he scurries out to listen to you coo to him privately and the rest of day6 is like waiting

and jae comes back, shining like a sunbeam until dowoon is like

“so pumpkin pie sweetie are you feeling ok?”

jae about to fling the phone at dowoon before sungjin is like HEY-

youngk

quality time

seems like a total homebody hermit who is like leave me be im ok living in solitude like a monk on a mountain

but the reality is that if he loves someone, and he loves you, if you two cant have that time together - he just feels wrong

like the gravity around everything else he is doing is just off centered

and everyone can tell because it is like a raincloud just starts following him around

and also - he gets very grumpy

jae teases him and is like awwwwwww do you miss your s/o are you getting all saaaaaaaad

and youngk is like shuttup no im not im fine

sungjin (who has a brain) is like no he’s literally going through withdrawal and then hits your number on the speed dial

he’s ok with group dates and being around the band and your other friends but there is really nothing like one on one intimacy to him

and that could literally be as innocent as sitting in the back of an empty bus, holding hands and sharing each other as pillows

to locking the bedroom door and falling over onto his sheets

tries to be slick about it though and texts you like “wanna come over?” and you’re like “oh ;)” and he’s like “........jae will be in the other room don’t lose your mind in the gutter”

but plot twist jae is not in the other room actually youngk has bribed everyone to be gone for an hour or two and you well

you pretend not to notice for your easily flustered boyfriends sake

gets the softest when you are alone ........ he puts up a front around others but if it is just you

running your fingers through his hair and listening to him sigh happily in your neck

that’s when the tender words like “i can’t live without you” come out

funnily enough he’ll say something so beautiful just for you to hear and when you kinda hear a similar sound lyric in day6s next album you’re like oh? was i inspiration?

youngk getting red down to his neck: NO?

wonpil begs you guys to do more PDA or something because he’s a sucker for love and sometimes he feels like you guys hold back

and youngk is like if you want to live another day-

jkjk

you just hold youngk’s hand and tell wonpil not to worry, once everyone is gone and it’s just you two, it is actually quite romantic

everyone is like we cant imagine youngk being sweet

but he really is, he cherishes you so much and he needs you to himself far away from the world and all its stress

what im saying is yes he seems like he’d be like leave me alone but like dont leave the room im in and actually just stay right here in his lap

wonpil

receiving gifts

and not in a materialistic kind of way but in a “im always thinking about you” way

there is no feeling like seeing wonpil after a long time and the first thing you do after running into his arms is going “i got you something while you were away!”

and as nice as big, expensive, frilly gifts on holidays are - what wonpil really loves the most is when you drop something in his hands and tell him you noticed he needed it

“oh, i remember you said you didn’t have anymore bandaids at the studio” “you should take sunscreen with you - here i got you some” “you’ve had that old jacket for so long, let’s go get you a new one for the winter.”

everytime you say something so casually to him, it just makes the inside of his heart burst because

you are always listening to him, observing him, thinking about his needs

and if that’s not love then. well.

you staring at a bunch of tickets and receipts in a box in wonpils room: what is this.........

wonpil: it’s from all our dates! they’re the gifts of the good memories!

you trying not to cry because he’s the cutest person on earth: o-oh

lmao jae will sometimes have to stop wonpil if they’re packing for a tour because wonpil could fit a suitcase full of stuff you’ve either given him or he got with you like

wonpil: im taking the blender. me and my love bought it at ikea three months ago

jae: im sure the hotels will have blenders...........

he attributes sentimental value to anything you touch really and wonpil can be overwhelming in all aspects of love

he likes touching you, he likes giving you uplifting words, he likes doing things for and he of course wants to spend every second with you

but something about having things that are shared

or just his because you gave it to him ............ another level

but don’t be fooled. he showers you in twice as much because he wants you to feel that same thing he feels everytime

dowoon

physical touch

hand is on you. on your shoulder. on your waist. on the top of your head if need be.

he will try to inch down from your waist when he thinks no one is looking before sungjin is grabbing him by the ear like boy - i taught you better

you: it’s fine i dont mind

dowoon: *:P intensifies*

but really he is like an overactive puppy when it comes to you because wow you are tangible and you love him and he loves you why cant he touch you every. second. of. the. day.

the funny thing is when you first started dating it was nothing like this - dowoon can be shyer than most and so it took him close to two weeks to gather the courage to hold your hand first

but now that it is comfortable and established it’s like he cannot live without it

kisses? gotta have them, before the set. after the set. when you wake up together in the morning. before you go to sleep.

you pushing his face away like you have morning breath and he’s like i will kiss you if my life depends on it

you also have noticed that if you are in a situation together where touching would be super inappropriate or something

dowoon will find a way to make contact. he will either play with the fabric of something you’re wearing or he’ll bump your hands together when you reach for something

part of you assumes he’s just being cheeky, but the reality is that touching for dowoon does so more than any words or gifts or anything

because you cannot lie through a touch - he either feels your warmth or he doesn’t

and when he doesn’t, life just sucks plain and simple

youngk: “jesus you’re on each other like a bad rash”

jae: “you sound jealous”

dowoon and you: “true youngk you do sound jealous.”

youngk grumbling: “young people....................”

there probably hasn’t ever been a moment where you’re ordering something at a fastfood place and dowoon is like order for me too and youre like do it yourself and hes like im busy and youre like busy doing what and hes hugging you from behind and hes like idk im busy holding my entire world now can you tell them i dont want pickles

#day6 scenarios #day6 au #day6 #jae au #youngk au #dowoon au #wonpil au #sungjin au #writing commissions

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 3 years

Note

Hello! I really love your work! If you still take requests, can you write how would the companions act when they are sick and how would sole take care of them? Thanks!

Cait:

•Coming from a home where she was never taken care of, only to move through life in places where signs of weakness would've gotten her killed...let's just say she doesn't like showing that she is sick. My girl could be half way dying and she would do everything in her power to make you think that she just has a hangover or something of the sorts.

•She's going to be stubborn with everything too. Rest? Take it easy? Fuck right off, hon.

•She is going to have to fight this off herself, don't try interfering..it'll only upset her and cause her to snap at you if you don't stop.

Curie:

•She has no clue what's happening. HELP.

•She knows sickness very well, already recognizing the symptoms off bat- it's just that well..her new synth body makes it to where she feels all of it and it's quite overwhelming.

•Nonetheless, Curie will politely let you know that she's "got this" and pesters you about staying away in case she is contagious.

Danse:

•He gets really grumpy when he's sick. It's actually the best way to tell that he isn't feeling well. Don't get me wrong, he won't outright be especially rude or anything. He more or less is just more irritable, more apt to complain too.

•It'll take some convincing, but seeing as you are one of the very few people he implicitly trusts..he'll let you take care of him. And by take of him, I mean he's gonna gripe the entire time.

Deacon:

•You'll know when Deacon is sick. He won't be as witty, as "ready-to-go"..he won't really be much like himself in this state. As a matter of fact, he's going to be pretty down in the dumps. Catch him laying in one of the old dusty sarcophaguses in HQ, feeling sorry for himself.

•You can do small things for him, maybe bring him some Nuka-Cola or something..leave the medical stuff to Carington so Deeks can harass him later when he feels up to it.

Gage:

•Honestly, you probably won't even know that he's sick unless it gets too bad. If and when it ever gets to that point, Gage will be honest with you and admit that he can't keep going on- spouting about how "can't be making y'all sitting ducks or some shit".

•It may come as a surprise to say that Gage doesn't really mind being taken care of. Now, it's no super tender moment with the raider but..eh, what really is in the wasteland? Anyways- he'd do the same for you. You both gotta look out for each other.

Hancock:

•It isn't often that he gets sick, but when does..oh does he milk it. If the two of you are good friends, he is going to pretend he is just about dying. Sometimes you may even find you asking yourself if it's all worth it. It is.

•Although he may be annoying, he truly is appreciative! You'll know just how much Hancock cherishes what you do to make him feel better, and he'll keep it in mind to repay you sooner than later.

Macready:

•Whiny rat man.

•No, for real. He may have grown up in little lamplight where kids got sick all the time, but a piece of him just never got over that immature way of handling sickness. So..buckle up, buttercup. Every single ache and pain, you will be made promptly aware of.

•He uh, he fully expects you to take care of him if you are his friend. Especially if you are his lover.

Maxson:

•Arthur tries and miserably fails to hide his sickness. Really beats himself up over it as well. He's supposed to look as invincible as the brotherhood thinks he is- having a coughing fit during a briefing sure doesn't seem too indestructible. Least to say, he will be wallowing in self pity and bugging the living shit out of Captain Cade for hurried test results.

•You can try your best to take care of him, but his mood isn't going to improve until he finally feels like his normal self again. That's just the way he is.

Nick:

Don't really think he can get sick tbh...

Old Longfellow:

•Being an old man like himself, you probably expect him to take it easy when he gets sick, right? Well, aren't you sadly mistaken. This sack of crap is downing liquor left and right whilst fighting off whatever the fog throws at him like he normally would be.

•He fears no sickness. Sickness fears him.

Piper:

•She's pretty chill...depending upon what kind of sickness she is plagued with. Anything respiratory? Cancel Christmas- she is in a tizzy. She'll be constantly uncomfortable and feeling gross, so she won't exactly be a happy camper while the sickness runs it's course.

•She's amongst one of the most easy going ones when it comes to being taken care of. Just give her some tea and she'll be grateful.

Preston:

•For a lack of batter words, being sick makes preston very nervous. He can't help but think of all the things that might happen just because he's under the weather. What if raiders attack? What if you need him? Oh good sweet lord, it's a catastrophe.

•Please just calm him down..

X6-88:

•Is honestly just confused when he falls ill. It doesn't happen often. Even more distressed if it happens while away from the Institute. No Institute means not-so-easy access to medical supplies, and there is not a chance in hell that he would shoot up chems to numb the pain.

•Be warned. He is going to be one angry courser.

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Photo

“On the surface, Gordon Tracy is a simple man. A sunny smile, always likes a joke, give him a body of water and you can lose him in it.

“Any body of water.

“I once lost him in the bath.

“Though, you could probably relate that back to point number two and the liking a joke thing.

“Yes, Gordon is a simple man.

“On the surface.

“But only on the surface, because really, he is anything but.

“Meeting that smile under those laughing brown eyes and strawberry blond hair, you could be forgiven for thinking he is a joker out to make fun. You could miss the assessing eyes, the grace with which he walks, the hidden tells of experience and trial. You can’t see the scars; you can’t see the knowledge or the training.

“You could shake his hand and share that laugh and not know how many times that hand has reached out to grab another, to offer another chance, to save a life. You’ve never watched it dance across a control panel leagues under the ocean surface in the dark. You’ve never seen it push down on a ribcage to keep a heart beating.

“You’ve never seen it gently cup a handful of seawater to save a tiny fish caught in a drying rock pool.

“If you shared that joke, you would not know its history and how such jokes kept him from the edge during some of his darkest days.

“You could know of his brothers and the billions, of International Rescue, the Olympic Gold Medal, the party scene he played for all of six months in his teens. You may even know of his military career with WASP.

“But you won’t know Gordon.

“Because the laughter and the jokes? They are only his facade, a method to cope, a philosophy to guide his life. They are a reason to laugh rather than cry.

“Underneath there is a man of great feeling, a young mind full of wonder that has been slapped back so many times that now getting back up is the default.

“You could look at him and think ‘a billionaire, what does he have to worry about?’ But really, it only takes one life changing disaster to crush a man. Gordon has faced so many more.

“He has four brothers, a sister and a grandmother all of which it is obvious he cherishes deeply. He has friends and heroes and a growing love that needs nurturing like a flickering flame. But he is ever aware that these things are temporary, that they can be taken away suddenly and irrevocably. He has seen the glassiness of death and faced down the reaper himself.

“So.

“The laughter.

“The dye in the shampoo.

“The pillow in the pool.

“The itching powder on the bath towel.

“The hell let loose on April Fool’s Day every damn year.

“They are but a symptom of the man you are facing, and yet so why you are going to regret what you are doing.”

Virgil blinked and as if on cue, his brother stepped out of the shadows behind Virgil’s tormentor and, with a move Kayo would have applauded, wrenched his arm behind his back, took his knees out from under him and pinned him to the floor. Another blink and the man was restrained and gagged.

A pair of russet brown eyes swam into his vision, dark in the sharp shadows of the harsh lamp light. “Hey, Virg, that was some speech. Who knew you could be so eloquent under pressure.”

“He’s strong. He’s going to kick your ass.”

“Hey, hey, Virgil. I’m Gordon, remember? The joker guy you said was going to save your ass.” There were fingers fiddling with his restraints. “C’mon, we gotta get you out of here. Won’t be long before they discover I escaped.”

“Don’t underestimate my brother. He’s funny, but he’s so much more.”

“In any other circumstances, I’d be lapping this up, but Virgil, we need to get you onto your feet. I’m strong, but not strong enough for your heavy lifting. C’mon, up you get.” He was being pulled up. His body creaked.

“Gordon is going to come. You’re going to regret it.”

“Yes, yes, help me here, Virgil. I did come. I’m here. It is time to go.”

“You’re going to regret it.”

“Okay, arm over my shoulder, we gotta move!” A grunt. “What the hell did they give you?! Some kind of truth serum?”

“You want to know the truth?” Oooh, the world was wobbling. “Gordon can be scary. You’re going to regret it so much.”

“Ah, yeah, you’ve mentioned that, Virgil. Um, you’re going to have to be quiet for a bit. We have to sneak past some bad guys.”

“Bad guys want to hurt Gordon. Can’t let them hurt Gordon. Tried to kick their asses, but I’m not like Gordon or Scott, couldn’t do it. Too many. Now they want to hurt Gordon. Can’t let them hurt him. No, no, can’t...”

“Shit. Virgil, shhh! Just be quiet for a minute, please.”

Quiet. He blinked. Augh, the world was even wobblier. Gordon was coming. Gordon was coming. “Can’t let them hurt Gordon-“ There was suddenly a hand over his mouth. He panicked and struggled. A muffled yell and he found himself falling, the world spinning until his head hit something hard and he saw stars.

The world became only sound from then on. Voices, more yelling, the thud of flesh hitting flesh, a gunshot. Virgil jumped at its sharp crack. Someone swore. A snap that could only be bone. A thud and then silence.

The world began to drift away.

“Virgil?! You with me? C’mon, bro, please.”

A slow blink. Blurry images. “Gordon?”

“Yes. You with me?”

“Knew you would come. Kick their ass.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that.” A sigh. “Can you stand?”

Another slow blink. “Don’t mess with my brother, he’ll kick your ass.”

“I’ll take that as a maybe.” Gordon was tugging on his arm, so Virgil tried to stand. Woah. The whole world tipped on its edge and swung him around. “Shit!”

“Sorry, bro, but we gotta move now. You can throw up on my shoes later.” And then he was in motion.

The blurs burred together. He squeezed his face shut and clung to the man holding him, desperate for it all to stop.

Make it stop.

“Not much longer, Virgil, I promise.” It was little more than a whisper.

Another stomach churning drag across a blurry room and suddenly everything went green.

Oh.

He knew that green. That smell. Oh, his beautiful ‘bird.

“Sit here.” He was being lowered onto a hard surface. “I’ll be back in a moment.” And Gordon was gone.

Gone.

“Gordon?”

A yell, followed by a scream and a thud. A litany of curses he didn’t know his brother even knew.

“Gordon?”

“It’s okay. I’m here.” Hands on his. “We’re okay, but we need to be fast.” He was pulled up again, his arm wrapped around shoulders and they were moving.

He lost a moment only to find himself sitting in a chair. A familiar chair with a familiar roar building in his bones. “Two.”

“Yeah, Virg, we’re on your ‘bird. Hang tight, because I’m afraid I might have to scratch her paintwork.”

“You wouldn’t do that. We only joke about it.”

“Well, I’m not in a joking mood right now.” The sound that followed that statement cut through the roar.

Her laser. He was using her laser.

He forced his eyes open and yes, he could see the red glow through the blur. “What are you doing?”

“Cutting our way out of here.”

“Where?”

“They stole your ‘bird, Virg. Remember?”

Voices on the edge of his hearing. Yelling. Another gunshot. Men.

It had been a trap and they had been caught and Virgil had been separated from his brother. His little brother. Please don’t hurt his brother. Please!

“It’s okay, we’re escaping. Another five seconds. Hang in there, Virgil.”

But Gordon was strong. He would kick their asses.

Oh god, please don’t hurt him. Please don’t. I tried. I really tried. Not enough. Not enough. Please don’t hurt him.

A loud crash and his body was shoved back into the seat. His head spun again.

His Thunderbird roared. Her rear thrusters kicked in and sung in his bones. His body lifted from the Earth and tore into the sky.

He let out a gasp, the sudden familiarity heart-stopping.

“Thunderbird Five, you there?”

“Gordon! Thank, God. What happened?”

“Brief you shortly. I need to get Virgil to a hospital, but first I want to put some distance between us and the bastards who hurt him. Please advise Wellington that we will be...”

His brother’s voice faded out, taken by the blur and the hissing of blood in his ears.

-o-o-o-

“C’mon, Virgil, I know you’re in there. Time to wake up.”

What?

“Viiiiirgiiiiil.” Gordon. It was Gordon and he was singing his name.

Ugh.

He shoved his eyes open and glared at his brother. “What?!”

“Ooh, welcome back to the land of the living. Nice entrance.”

“Gordon, what the hell? Let me sleep.”

“Nope.” His lips popped on the ‘p’.

Virgil’s eyes closed a moment and it took him a second to realise they had. He shoved them open again.

Ceiling tiles.

He was in hospital.

“Why am I in hospital?” He searched his slowly booting brain, but found no recollection of injury other than...

He sat up in bed. “It was a trap! They stole my-“ And the world caught up with him and whacked him around the head.

Two sets of hands caught him as he fell back towards the pillow. “Shit.”

“Take it easy, Virgil, you’ve been through quite a bit.”

His body sunk into the bed. Scott. Thank god. So happy to hear his brother’s voice.

He frowned. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?”

“Callout. Central Texas. Gas explosion. No fly zone. It was a trap. Nabbed me. Nabbed Gordon. Wanted Two...” He frowned. “Gets fuzzy. A fight. I lost?”

“We think so. You have quite a lot of bruising, a couple of cracked ribs and two head injuries.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, and you also had a bloodstream full of some nasty chemicals. They drugged you pretty bad. Took the doctors some time to identify with exactly what. You’ve been mostly out of it for a couple of days.”

“Days?!”

“You were unconscious for most of it.”

A frown. “Most of it?” He didn’t remember any of it.

“Yeah.”

He eyed his eldest brother and was somewhat unnerved by the fact he wasn’t keeping eye contact. “What did I do?”

“Nothing of importance.”

“Like what?”

“There was some delirium. Look, Virg, you were ill. Don’t worry about it.”

He stared at his brother a moment longer. Perhaps not knowing was a good thing, but then...perhaps he could third degree his brother later when he had more stamina.

“How did we get out?”

Scott nodded in Gordon’s direction. “Gordon got you out. Five couldn’t find you. They had tech enough to baffle our sensors.” And it was obvious that Scott hated that with a passion.

Virgil turned to his younger brother. “You got us out? How?”

“Oh, with my wily skillz and sense of humour.” Gordon grinned at him.

Virgil’s lips thinned. “Does that mean you’re not going to tell me, or that I should nag you until you do?”

“Have at it, big bro, and we’ll see how it slides.”

Augh. He so did not have the energy for this. “Gordon!”

“Yessssh, Massster?”

He closed his eyes and grit his teeth. “Fine. We will discuss it later.”

“Cool. I’ll bring snacks.”

A sigh and he opened his eyes to assess his little brother. “You okay?”

“Yep, just fine and dandy. You’re the one sporting all the bruises this time, bro. You’re the one who will have to be nagged to rest regularly, eat regularly and get tortured by Grandma’s home cooking.”

Virgil stared at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yepper doodles.”

“What?!”

“Virg, don’t you worry your little head about it. Just rest and take it easy.” A hand landed on his arm and squeezed gently.

He was still staring. “Scott, did he get checked over?”

“He’s fine, Virgil. Stop worrying.” A sigh. “He’s just being Gordon...and if he doesn’t stop, I’m going to kick his ass.”

Kick his ass.

Virgil blinked. “You got us out of there.”

“That I did.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, bro.” A grin split his little brother’s face, but something flickered in the depths of his eyes for just a second. Virgil frowned, but it was gone too quickly. Gordon’s grin took over everything.

“Anytime.”

-o-o-o-

This is The Joker. Here is the WIP sequel - The Hero. Sooo much WASP!Gordon.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #nuttyfic reblog #the joker and the hero

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satingrove · 4 years

Text

improper

pairing: protector!obi-wan kenobi x princess!reader, you know the drill

warnings: very intimate, but not exactly smut

summary: your maid has fallen ill and isn’t there to help you out of that difficult dress, but obi-wan happens to be right there.

wc: 2.070k

authors note: now THIS came to me straight out of nowhere, all i know is that it got me really frickin excited. it’s sort of supposed to mirror the victorian era, where dress and corset wearers needed someone to help dress and undress them. i also just picture aotc obi in this fic bc wooow

It's unnatural to ask - isn't it? But it's a peculiar happening as well, and Obi-Wan is nothing but a friendly face, a common face.

He looms in your doorway, looking sympathetic and protective, the place he likes to be at this time of day, or any time at all. It did not matter to him. Midnight or afternoon, he liked to see you.

He leaves the doorway, taking slow, polite steps. His robes sweep the floor and he almost appears to float, arriving by where you sit on the love seat.

"I'm very sorry to hear about your maid, your Highness." He sits down beside you, mentally replaying your distressed voice over the comlink, which explained to him the events of a fainting maid and a frantic medic who simply pushed her onto a repulsorlift gurney and left without a word.

You don't catch his gaze. Your eyes stay set on the floor beneath your feet, but perfect posture is still accounted for; impropriety isn't something you'd like to convey to the Jedi Knight, although you were much more than mere acquaintances.

A vague memory of his sunshiny face dances through your mind; the time he had brought you flowers in the early morning of a hot day. You hadn't forgotten the boyish grin on his face, even though he was far past his Youngling days (he had explained the ranking system to you at a boring banquet - one that you both contemplated sneaking out of, except your manners kept you there). The gesture was remembered in a happy golden tint and centered around a sleepy, lazy kiss to your forehead. More than acquaintances, yes.

He gingerly shifts his robes.

"I hope she'll be alright." You murmur, a minuscule smile managed in his direction.

"I'm sure she will be, although it's strange how quickly she seemed to fall ill. The medics are taking great care of her, I assure you. I checked before I came to you." His words provide relief, but the image of the maid's coughing and pale face before she thumped to the floor confuses you still. "You must be frightened, princess." His gentle hand brushes over your back, modestly, and you draw in a slow breath.

"I don't understand... that's all." The upset returns to you a moment, and runs away quickly by the soothing hand of Obi-Wan. "As long as she will be alright, as you say. She is a great friend to me." You watch him with a melancholy expression.

Obi-Wan hums in comprehension, the tone soft and nearly melodic, never ceasing his calming back-and-forth motions upon your back. It's comfortable. He promises once more that your cherished maid would return in due time, and in his well-mannered reserve, made to bid you goodnight.

It was no different than any other time he had done so; his lips brushing your hand as he held your gaze, softly whispering that he wished you a good night's sleep. It earned him a smile without fail, and the thought occurred to you as he neared the door.

Instead of calling for a Jedi, a protector, you use his name. You could count the times you had done this on your fingers.

"Obi-Wan, wait," You call timidly, speeding fast to catch up to him. He turns, a loose strand of hair falling close to his forehead. He finds you already standing incredibly close.

He lets out a sigh in the form of an "oh", and he chuckles, "Yes, my dear princess?"

The words are on the tip of your tongue, hanging on for dear life and too afraid to be turned into a voice. You stand a moment, looking up at the Jedi who waits patiently. There, you both breathe into an invisible sheet of tension. Chests puff and deflate with the lungs that work hard to stay normally paced.

"Well, it's just that-", you're struggling, your shyness a great barrier between what you need and what you're afraid to request.

Obi-Wan's hands are clasped in front of him.

"I'm listening." He encourages you with a murmur, nodding and feeling fond of you. The sheet of tension thickens.

"My dress..." You continue in segments, incapable of stringing all the pieces together in a smooth sentence. Your palms press against the skirt, wiping down the little perspiration that had accumulated. It's quiet now, as Obi-Wan begins to understand what you're asking him to do. His eyebrows raise a little as it dawns, but he needs to hear the rest from your own lips.

"My maid isn't here to help me out of it tonight." You babble, fast, but steady. Obi-Wan knew the words were coming, but hearing them makes it all the more different.

It's impossible how quick he is to blush, and unspeakable the way his eyes darken.

"You want me... to undress you." It's not a question but a statement, and you can tell that he's not afraid of the prospect. His voice had deepened the way his eyes did, romantic and not without lust.

You find it hard to affirm this, but all the same, a weak "mhmm" noise comes from your throat, pitiful compared to your established and habitual tone.

Obi-Wan looks at you. He's unreadable, blank but still blushing, and then he intensifies. He grows more confident.

"Darling." Hands grace your shoulders and turn you to face the other way, your back against his warm chest and his cream coloured robes. You’re heated and feverish and melding to his body while he ushers you gently forward, creating more space for the two of you away from the closed door.

You thought it laughable, but in your mind you had thanked whoever thought of making clothes that you needed help to put on and take off. It was annoying, up until now, an utter nuisance to have to wear such extravagant pieces.

The thought was cut short by the sensation of his fingers starting at the top of the bodice, washing away any meandering thoughts of apprehension towards the clothing you wore. They skillfully slipped one, two, three buttons and it was enough to tug the sleeves moderately down your arms, exposing your bare shoulders to him.

His breath came hot upon your right shoulder, delicate, fresh, and his lips ghosted from the edge of it, trailing slowly to the crook of your neck where he placed a sultry, loving kiss. The passage of time is changed, the slim hands of all clocks caught between seconds and failing to tick fast enough.

"You're so tense..." His hands sweep the length of your arms to rest on your shoulders where his lips had been, rubbing attentively, cooing the words into your ear. It unwinds you at the same time that it sends shivers from your spine to manifest in your stomach. A whimper is the only manageable response.

"Shh," Obi-Wan hushes you, working circles with his fingers and undoing your stresses, "relax, it's alright."

He can hardly believe what his hands are doing. He's enamoured, wholly and completely, and that's just about all he knows in this moment of intimacy.

The next button slips through the fabric, exposing more of your skin and awakening more of his fanciful thoughts. Obi-Wan leans down again, finding a higher point of your neck between his lips, careful not to leave a mark. He's being delicate for your own sake. You inwardly chastise yourself for how easily he allures you.

Four more buttons are undone, leisurely, Obi-Wan bending to leave kisses where they used to touch your back, leaving a thrilling line of pecks. He reaches the last one and his knee touches the floor. He slips it and parts the fabric to place a final kiss on your lower back. It's thoroughly intoxicating, your breath coming in and out to the rushed beating of your heart. You feel that shyness evermore, though it's being overshadowed by something else, something rousing.

The Jedi is still kneeling when he reaches up to grip your waist and turn you back around to face him. You look down and he appears so sweet, so enchanting and dark. From above is a view you hadn't been graced with until now, but he rises, eyes fixed on yours, and reaches behind you.

The two sides of the bodice are in his grasp.

"Is this okay?" He's earnest and wary, knowing he could be stripping you not only of your dress but the modesty you still held with him. He had served his purpose. The buttons at the back were all that you needed help with.

"Yes." It leaves you in quiet, breathy desperation. Obi-Wan pulls.

Your arms come out of the sleeves and your chest is bare. The garment falls without your body to hang on to, pooling around your feet.

"My, my..." Obi-Wan is lost for his smooth remarks, letting his hands talk as they grace your hip and trail up your back. His lips are parted. To be bare in front of him felt oddly safe, comfortable - normal even.

Then a flow of words comes out.

"That dress was charming, my darling, but you," he sighs, "you're bewitching." He looks ardently to every part of you that he can see, features softening in his awe. A hand moves to cup the side of your face and he shakes his head in disbelief to the beauty before him.

"Will you let me help with the rest?" He's eager but still adamant to be respectful. You nod, gaining poise, and he fetches the silk nightgown draped over the chair sitting in front of the vanity. He sets it neatly on the edge of your bed, upon the fluffy sheets.

Shedding his cloak, feeling too hot for the extra layer, he rests it beside the nightie and pulls back a corner of the blanket on the side which he knows you sleep, and sits there.

"Come here."

You're nervous again, but let your feet take you to him. They whisper on the floor, silent and light, and you arrive in between the spread of his legs. Finding your waist again, he comes forward and spreads his palms over your skin, his touch flaring and welcoming.

His actions are ones you wish would only repeat themselves for the coming hours - so affectionate, tender, encompassing. His lips press dreamily to your stomach. You ruffle his hair and he purrs - he likes it all too much. It's then that he switches places with you, standing to turn, peering at you in adoration, sweet and intense. He gives a ghost of a push to sit you down in his old spot, drawing lines down your arms with his fingers, and briefly gracing your thighs.

The night gown is held high, Obi-Wan watching it fall delicately over your head as he guides it down. You raise your arms to poke through the straps and the length of it gathers at the juncture of your hips and thighs.

Obi-Wan tucks some hair behind your ear, his cheeks red but his disposition suave. Two kisses are placed on either thigh as he bends a final time and his face comes to the level of yours. He stays a moment, burning the sight into his mind. Once he's satisfied that details are right, he aids you to lay, bringing the sheets over your shoulders. Your chest fills to your throat with admiration, swelling and blooming there.

A last, velvety kiss is given to your cheek, where his lips linger, and he wishes you goodnight anew with all the tenderness he can muster.

"I trust you'll sleep well, princess."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan." He closes his eyes to relish the way your hand reaches, touches and falls from his cheek. Humming a dulcet sound as if to say "you're welcome", he retrieves his cloak, draping it over his arm. "I'll see you in the morning, then?"

"If only it were sooner." He replies, disembarking from the presence he so desperately yearned to stay within.

He makes a generous point of folding the discarded dress, and winds up the music box at the vanity, twisting the silver knob. Its lovely tinkle plays a pretty song, a lullaby, and Obi-Wan leaves with a final glance toward you in your bed, wondering why he hadn't kissed your lips and wishing he had more time before the length of his stay could be considered "improper".

#obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan x princess reader #ewan mcgregor #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #star wars #star wars imagine #userkarina

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

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A Place to Belong Chapter 40: A Malcolm

Chapter 39

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The meal that Jenny and Mary MacNab had prepared in celebration of Jamie’s return had been as grand as possible given the limitations of harvest and money. It was indeed delicious and enjoyable, and the table itself was full of life. The children chattered on and on to their long lost uncle, and Claire could tell Jamie was careful to not address a single one of them by name except wee Jamie. There were several points throughout the meal where he became overwhelmed, but all it took was a squeeze of his hand from Claire and a reassuring smile, and she was able to pull him back to Earth.

He gradually became more comfortable, listening jovially to the children’s babbling. Claire noticed that he particularly could not keep his eyes off of baby Ian, sitting in Jenny’s lap, content to gnaw on the bannock in his hands for the entire meal with the occasional spoonful of mashed potatoes shoved into his mouth. Claire made a note to have Jamie hold the baby and play with him; it would do him good to leave an impression on a child that hadn’t yet known life without him. It would perhaps fill at least a small part of the cavern in his heart that missing Brianna’s infancy had left in its wake.

At some point, Mary MacNab had come by to scoop Ian out of Jenny’s lap to take him to bed, and it wasn’t long after that that Jenny was sending the rest of them upstairs themselves. She looked pointedly at Jamie, a strange look that Claire could not place, but one look at Jamie and she gathered that Jenny was coming through loud and clear to her brother.

You’re not going anywhere.

The children did a mass exodus out of the dining room, a cacophony of yells and giggles, and Claire couldn’t help but smile to hear Maggie’s voice above the throng:

“Dinna be so rowdy. Mother said it’s time fer bed.”

Wee Mother Hen.

Claire swept her eyes around the room and then landed on Fergus, who was staring intently at Jamie. She looked to Jamie, who was staring intently back at him. It took Claire a moment to piece it together, but it wasn’t long before it hit her: Jamie was fully expecting Fergus to disappear with the children. He couldn’t yet fathom that the lad had grown up. Perhaps he didn’t want to speak of prison in front of him, and he hadn’t been prepared to have to do so.

“So,” Jenny, never one to beat around the bush, was the first to break the silence. “Care to share how it is ye’ve been alive all this time after we spent eight years hearing of Red Jamie’s death?”

Claire felt Jamie stiffen beside her, and she instinctively reached out to take his hand, squeezing comfortingly.

Claire could see from across the table that Ian put his hand on Jenny’s thigh and whispered a low warning: “Janet. Easy now.”

She huffed indignantly and turned away from him, but she did not shake his hand off of her. It would appear that Jenny’s initial joy of having him back had already been replaced by angry betrayal. Frankly, Claire didn’t blame her. She might have felt the same if she wasn’t so God damned relieved. Perhaps that would come later.

“Well?” Jenny said, looking pointedly at Jamie.

“I ken I’ve got a lot to explain,” Jamie began.

“Aye, ye do.”

“Janet.”

“It’s alright, Ian.” Jamie looked up at them finally, his eyes pained, but understanding. “Ye have every right to be angry. All of ye.” His head turned and he faced Claire, looking her right in the eyes. Claire swallowed thickly and blinked back tears.

“Suppose I should start from the beginning,” he said, shifting again so he was facing Ian and Jenny and able to turn his head to look at Fergus if he so chose. “I was injured in battle, too much to run. Rupert brought me to a hut where other injured men were hiding. But it was hopeless, ye ken. We were all just…waiting to be found. Waiting to be shot.”

Claire gave his hand another reassuring squeeze.

“Well, found we were, o’ course. One by one they took our names and brought us out to be shot. There was nothing I could do but pray that ye’d all be safe when I was gone.” A single tear trickled down Claire’s cheek.

“When it came time fer me to give my name, nothing short of a miracle occurred. Claire, d’ye remember the lad who attacked me near Corrieyairack, before Prestonpans, and we brought him in to be questioned, but he wouldna budge until ye started pretending to be our prisoner?”

Claire’s brow furrowed, but the corners of her mouth involuntarily twitched up at the memory. “Yes…I do.”

“He told me he owed me a debt of honor fer sparing his life. D’ye recall?”

“I…I suppose…”

“I remember as well, Milord,” Fergus chimed in.

Jamie nodded towards Fergus before continuing. “He spoke of a brother, a Lord Melton. Well, this was the verra same Lord Melton who came upon us in that hut. When I gave my name, he insisted on carrying out his brother’s debt of honor.”

“He spared your life,” Claire whispered reverently.

“Aye, he did. But the death of Red Jamie was far too tempting of a feat to brag to His Majesty.” Jamie smirked darkly. “And Lord Melton didna want his reputation sullied. So they spread the word that I’d been killed in battle, and they brought an Alexander Malcom to Ardsmuir Prison.”

“A Dhiah,” Ian breathed in disbelief. “All this time, the one that spared yer life was a bloody Redcoat?”

“Aye. A man of great honor.” He nodded solemnly. “His brother as well. He became Ardsmuir’s new governor about six years into my sentence. Hardly recognized him, but it was the very same lad. He’s the reason I’m here wi’ ye now.”

“He got you free?” Claire’s eyes were wide.

“Aye. He did. He appealed to the crown fer the freedom of Alexander Malcom, and he won it.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” Claire breathed.

“Why the Devil would he do such a thing?” Jenny fired. “There must be some catch. Does he ken who ye are?”

“Aye, he does ken the truth.” Jamie nodded. “But there’s no catch.”

“A bloody Redcoat who knows ye’re the most famous Jacobite traitor sets ye free and there’s no catch?” Jenny spat. “Ye must be mad, brother!”

“He’s a good man, Jenny, I ken it.”

“How? How d’ye ken it?”

“I just…I do! Alright?” Claire noticed he was trembling, red in the face. “Murtagh was ill, and he — ”

“Murtagh?” Claire gasped. “He’s alive…?”

“Oh, aye, didna mention that, I suppose.” He grinned sheepishly.

“Where is he?” Claire stammered. “Is he alright?”

“Sent off to the colonies wi’ the other prisoners when they closed the prison,” Jamie said. “That’s how I was able to be set free. No prison anymore, and John petitioned my freedom rather than indentured servitude wi’ the others.”

“Oh, ye’re on a first name basis wi’ him then?” Jenny said incredulously, her eyes wide.

“Janet,” Ian admonished again.

“No, I dinna like this one bit!” Jenny waved him off. “What in God’s name was so special about ye that ye were the exception out of every other prisoner? Why did he spare you? How do we ken we won’t be raided in the night and all of us killed now that ye’ve led them right to us?”

“That’s no’ why, Janet — ”

“Then why, Jamie? Help me understand!”

“He is — !” Jamie raised his voice frighteningly, but then he bit his tongue, letting his body relax for a moment. Claire squeezed his hand, waiting patiently, though she, too, was more than eager to find out this man’s motives.

“He’s…fond…of me,” Jamie said quietly, avoiding everyone’s eyes and staring into the grain of the table.

Claire immediately felt panic sear through her chest, her breath catching in her throat.

Someone has hurt him again. The bastard used his power to take advantage of him.

“Jamie…” Claire choked.

“No, Claire,” he said firmly, turning his head in her direction, but still not looking at her. His voice dropped to a whisper as he said: “He didna.”

Claire let out a trembling sigh of relief.

Jenny and Ian looked hopelessly confused. Neither of them knew the depth of what Randall had done to Jamie. No one did, save Claire, Murtagh, and the few men that had helped in his rescue. Claire looked over at Fergus, and he looked like he was in pain. He knew all too well what Jamie was referring to, what Claire was afraid of.

Claire reached under the table to squeeze Fergus’s hand, now holding tightly onto both of her dear lads.

“He’s an honorable man,” Jamie said again, loudly enough now for everyone to hear. “We spoke a great deal and he…he kent I had a wife waiting fer me. Ye were all I could speak of Claire, every breath I took was fer you. And he could tell; he could see how deeply I loved ye. When he granted me my freedom, he shook my hand and he said to me: ‘Cherish that wife of yours, Fraser.’”

Another tear trickled down Claire’s cheek. Jamie looked deeply into her eyes, his pupils dilated, and she could hear him without him having to say it:

Cherish her I will.

“Alright.” Jenny exhaled and crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s all fine and good, then. So where was any word from ye that ye lived?”

“I couldna put ye in danger like that,” Jamie said. “Don’t ye understand? If I had asked them to deliver letters to Lallybroch, they’d know straight away I wasna who I said I was. They’d ken that Claire was the very same wife to Red Jamie. ’Twas my face on the broadsheets, aye, no’ hers, but to send letters to where she lived would be as sure as putting her face on one.” Jamie shuddered. “I ken what they’re capable of, and so do you, Janet.” He stared at Jenny darkly, and she blanched, slumping over in her chair slightly, likely remembering what Randall had almost done to her all those years ago.

“I dinna wish to think of what they would do to Red Jamie’s wife if they found her here wi’ his family.” His voice was tight with emotion as he squeezed Claire’s hand. “And now that I know that my child dwelt here as well…I…I canna bear to think what they’d do to her.” He shuddered. “As much pain as it caused ye to hear no word, I dinna regret any of it. I’d do it again if it meant keeping ye safe. All of ye.”

“You were right to think that way, Jamie,” Claire said softly, reassuring him. “They already suspected. They came by many times asking where I was when I had time to hide, and trying to question me when I didn’t. Letters from you would have been my death sentence. You’re right.”

“It’s true,” Ian chimed in. “Trying to hide that she was English when they came by was quite the feat. All they needed was the slightest bit of confirmation, and I ken they’d be dragging her away. Her and perhaps wee Brianna as well.” Ian smiled gravely at Jamie. “Ye did the right thing, lad.”

Ian turned to look expectantly at Jenny, who had significantly deflated “Aye,” she said finally, not looking him in the eye. “Suppose ye did.”

“All that matters is that ye’re back, Jamie, and that none of us are in danger because of it,” Ian said, raising his glass to him. “Slaínte.”

“Slaínte,” everyone echoed.

A loud shriek suddenly echoed through the house, causing everyone to jump.

Claire smiled. “That wasn’t mine,” she said teasingly, knowing by now what her daughter sounded like.

“Oh, aye, sounds like Janet.” Jenny sighed. “Michael is probably tormenting her again. Excuse me.” She rose from the table and quickly strode out of the room.

Jamie also couldn’t help but smile. “Ye’ve had a great many blessings,” he said to Ian.

“Aye, we have.” He smiled. “But a great deal of hardship as well.”

His face fell a bit. “Aye, I’m sure.”

“She’s just hurt, Jamie,” Ian said gently. “She’ll come back around to ye soon enough. It was hard fer her, losing ye so suddenly like that, all of a sudden having to raise wee Jamie to fill in yer shoes as Laird someday. She took on the responsibility of keeping this land safe, keeping yer wife and child safe.” He looked pointedly at Claire. “She carried the weight of the world on her shoulders to honor yer memory. She’s just hurt that it’s all been a lie.”

Jamie nodded, his jaw hard, his eyes misting over. “Aye. I…dinna blame her.”

“She will come around, Jamie,” Claire said . “She always does. Which reminds me…”

“Ah,” Ian said, grinning a bit. “Suppose he doesna ken that we ken?”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “I dinna ken that they ken what?”

Claire almost laughed at the absurdity of the conversation. “I told Jenny about my being from the future. Shortly after Brianna’s birth.”

Jamie’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Aye, then Jenny told me,” Ian said.

“And I demanded to be let in on the secret about a year later,” Fergus chimed in.

Jamie nodded thoughtfully. “Right. That makes sense. What about the bairns?”

“No, they’re too young to understand,” Claire said. “I suppose we’ll have to tell Brianna eventually, but when she’s older.”

“Aye…I suppose…” Jamie looked to Claire. “How did she take it? Jenny?”

Claire smirked. “Not too well, at first. Her first thought was witchcraft, of course, especially because of Brianna’s seizures and this century’s association of epilepsy to the Devil.” Jamie smirked as well, picturing all-too-clearly his sister on a tirade against his wife. “But eventually she let up and we came to an understanding.”

“I didna understand it at all; still don’t, truth be told,” Ian said. “But I believed Claire’s heart to be true, so it had to be the truth. Simple as that.”

“Aye, I told myself the same thing.” Jamie looked deeply into her eyes again, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles gently.

“I think I perhaps took it better than anyone,” Fergus said with a crooked grin. “I learned to not ask questions when it came to Maman. I’m still not convinced that she isn’t La Dame Blanche.” He raised his eyebrows at her playfully.

Claire rolled her eyes. “Right.” She grinned back at him. “Anyway,” Claire continued, looking at Jamie again. “I only bring it up because she did come back around. Even when…after Caitlin.” Claire’s eyes flicked to Ian, not wanting to reveal anything he didn’t wish to speak of.

“Caitlin…?” Jamie looked back and forth between them.

“Aye. Our wee lass. Born and dead on the same day.”

Jamie looked like he’d been punched in the gut, and I squeezed his hand tighter.

“Christ, Ian. I’m…I’m sorry…”

“Dinna fash, Jamie,” Ian said, though his voice was twinged with sadness. “We’ve healed the best we could.”

“Aye…but ye…ye never truly heal from…from that.”

Claire looked at him, another tear trickling down her face.

I know, love. I thought of her, too.

She allowed a brief silence to pass between them and sent up a silent prayer for her lost Goddaughter and her cousin.

“Well…Jenny was angry with me then, too,” Claire finally continued gently. “Even more than when I first told her. She blamed me for losing Caitlin because I…because I had the power to be in a safer time and I didn’t use it to save her. She was…very cold. For over a month.”

Jamie wet his lips and nodded in understanding.

“But…she came back around. We talked things through, both apologized…and we’re all the more closer and stronger together because of it.” Claire released his hand so she could touch his shoulder. “It will be the same for you. Just give her time to process.”

Jamie nodded solemnly.

“Ian!”

The woman in question suddenly loudly called out, likely from upstairs.

“Get up here and give yer son a thrashing!”

A little shriek shortly followed, and Claire had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

Ian rolled his eyes. “Suppose I should take care of whatever that is.” He stood up and made his way around the table. He clamped a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “It’s good to have ye back, a bhalaich.”

Jamie craned his neck and turned slightly, firmly grasping Ian’s hand atop his shoulder. “Thank ye…it’s…it’s good to see you too, Ian.”

Ian smiled warmly before releasing him and making his way out of the dining room.

And then there were three.

“Fergus?” Claire said softly after a brief silence. “How are you feeling over there?”

Fergus leaned back with a sigh, his eyes widening. “How you would expect, I suppose. I thought I might faint like a woman when I saw you in the parlor, Milord.”

“Aye, thought I might as well, seein’ my mirror image in Brianna, and seein’ you so grown,” Jamie said. Fergus chuckled, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Jamie’s eyes flicked over to Claire, asking for guidance, permission.

“Just say what you’re feeling,” she whispered, quietly enough so that only he heard. “I can — ”

“No. Stay,” he said softly, but firmly.

Claire nodded gingerly before turning back to Fergus.

“I uh…I missed ye, lad,” Jamie began. “I thought of ye every day.”

“And I of you,” Fergus said.

“Ye see, I didna ken about Brianna, so I couldna picture her at all. But you, Fergus, I’d sit in that damned cell and I’d picture you and Claire, together. I pictured ye both taking comfort in one another, bringing each other joy. Since I didna ken about the bairn, I told myself that leaving her a son was the best thing I ever did. Ye gave me that comfort, Fergus. And I’m grateful fer it.”

Fergus’s face was impossible to read. He’d always been a very sensitive child, but as he'd grown, he’d gotten a handle on it, as was expected for young men. Claire hadn’t seen him truly cry since he’d thought she was dying in childbirth, and even then he was trying to be brave. He looked very much like he wanted to cry now, but Claire knew he’d never allow the floodgates to open, especially not in front of the man that she knew Fergus had come to see as a God.

“I uh, I knew full well that time had passed,” Jamie went on, fueled by Fergus’s lack of response. “But even still, I couldna reconcile that ye werena the same wee lad I sent off with the deed on that day. It breaks my heart that I couldna raise ye into a man myself as I wanted to.”

Fergus nodded slightly. “Maman raised me into the man you would want me to be, Milord. She was mother and father to me. For you.”

Claire thought she would burst into tears at any moment.

“Aye,” Jamie’s voice sounded tight. “I’m sure she did. Ye’re…ye’re a fine young man, mon fils. I’d be proud to still call ye my son. If ye’d have me.”

Fergus abruptly stood up, and for a moment, Claire was seized by the panic that he would dash out of the room. Instead, he stood there silently, and Claire could see several emotions warring with each other on his face. Jamie stood then, too, releasing her hand. She could see his arms trembling.

Without another word, Fergus closed the small space between them and threw his arms around Jamie, and Jamie exhaled heavily, crushing the lad to him. Claire covered her mouth to stifle a sob, silent tears trickling over the back of her hand.

“You have always been my Papa, Milord,” Fergus whispered into his shoulder.

Claire could not stop herself; she stood up and approached them, gingerly touching Fergus’s shoulder. They both welcomed her into their embrace, and Claire was so overwhelmed with love she thought she might faint. She was reminded of a moment that she’d never forgotten, a moment that she’d cherished as deeply as the moment she held Brianna for the first time:

The last time she’d held both of her boys together, right before Jamie had sent them away, when Fergus’s wee head still fit under her chin, when she and Jamie had cried into his hair, together.

A real family, for the first and last time.

But she knew now that it had not been the last time.

“Oh…my boys,” Claire murmured, craning her neck to kiss Fergus’s cheek, and then Jamie’s. “My darling boys…”

“We are together again, Maman,” Fergus kissed the top of her head. “All is well now.”

And despite her uncertainty, her inability to let go of those eight years just yet, Claire could not help but agree.

All is well now.

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naitiaclo960writings · 4 years

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Day 8 - Heartless

(Warnings: Past major character’s death and quick mention of disease / grief. It’s an happy ending tho)

September

When Castiel fell asleep in the operating room on the morning of September 14, he was prepared to never wake up again. He had never been a religiously committed man unlike his parents, and yet he knew that he had prayed before closing his eyes.

It has been more than 3 months since he entered the list of organ recipients to replace his heart tired by illness. Unfortunately, he had inherited a heart malformation from birth and had survived to the age of 28 without being too disabled, but the congenital heart disease had caught up with him midyear. After a whole series of tests and a permanent hospitalization, the doctors had been very clear: either he had a heart transplant or he had only a few months left to live.

The hardest part was seeing his friends and family coming to see him every day with a darker face as nothing moved on the side of the organ center. Castiel was aware that he was not a priority among the thousands of people in need of a heart in the United States, but he tried to remain optimistic for the people he loved. His fight was rewarded a few days ago when he was told he had found a match donor.

For medical reasons, Castiel and his family weren’t allowed to know who the donor was. It was obviously not the priority in the eyes of all, but Castiel had insisted on knowing more and he had simply been informed that a heart had become available following a fatal road accident in the nearby city. There was something macabre about celebrating someone’s death, but that person had been generous enough to help other souls struggling to live and he could only salute that gesture.

"Take a deep breath." The nurse intimated, securing a mask on his face.

Thus the day of the fateful operation had arrived and Castiel was terrified. There were so many things to consider, so many factors that could tip the scales one way or the other. After one last thought to his family and, surprisingly, to his donor’s family, Castiel did as he was asked.

* * *

October

The operation was a success. He opened his eyes after said surgery. There was nothing more to say except that Castiel was grateful every day for the new beating heart in his chest. It was with this heart that he could now embrace his loved ones, laugh with his friends and discover a world he thought destined to disappear beyond the doors of this hospital.

Castiel was still in hospital and in the recovery phase, but he was doing well and could be out very soon according to his doctors. He had seen the scar on his chest last week and he couldn’t help but cherish it. This mark was the sign that he had survived. The sign that he had the right to live longer and to continue to build his life away from the health problems that had accompanied him all his life.

He was currently distracted by the television channels in his room — the afternoon programs were truly deplorable — when the nurse came in to serve him his meal.

"Hi Clarence. How’s my hottest patient today?" She exclaimed.

Castiel turned his head towards her with a small awkward smile as usual. He stood up gently in bed.

"Hello Meg." He said politely. "I’m fine, my scar doesn’t even itch anymore."

Meg was definitely his favorite nurse and it seemed to be mutual. She had told him one day that she always arranged to be assigned to his room, for she liked their conversations, and Castiel could only agree with her. Despite her bad girl tease, Meg was now a good friend, always listening and present to support him in addition to being a good caregiver. Her honesty had helped Castiel to carry on in his fight against the disease and during his remission. They sometimes spent long minutes discussing their respective lives before Meg’s pager rang and she was called away. In addition, she sometimes smuggled him chocolate bars to make up for the hospital food and Castiel calling it "a survival aid".

"I hope so!" Meg said, setting up his lunch tray with a small smile." But at least it has the merit of giving you a little adventurous side. Did I ever tell you I have a thing for guys with chest scars?"

Castiel laughed softly, playing the game they both took pleasure in maintaining. Despite everything, it didn’t go any further than that: a game to brighten their days. Both knew how to settle for their already atypical friendship.

"At least twice a day." Castiel joked while leaning in his pillows. "Did anyone leave a message for me today?"

Meg could not help sighing and Castiel pinched his lips with sympathy.

They both knew what that meant. Castiel had insisted on registering on a site that put organ donor families and recipients in contact. However, the process was complex and if the family of his donor did not post any message on this site, then Castiel would have no chance to get in touch with them. Yet he was almost obsessed with this situation. He had this need, no, this irrepressible urge to thank the family of the one who had saved his life. It was something so important and, although he respected the choice of some to remain anonymous, he felt that he would not be able to leave this all behind until he had put a definitive end to this chapter of his life.

"No, Clarence, squat" Meg shook her head. "And even if they did, you know very well that you will not be able to contact them. The site does not allow any personal information or too intimate exchanges between families."

"I know." Castiel replied, abashed while planting his fork in the mashed peas. "But perhaps they will make an exception? I just want to know them and thank them for the gesture of their loved one".

Meg clicked her tongue while pushing the wagon towards the door.

"I know you want to do the right thing, you’re a damn angel with a halo over your head." She gave him a small grin of disgust that made Castiel smile. "But what if they didn’t want to meet you? They are probably—"

"Living a difficult situation and I would only remind them of their loss, yes, I know." Castiel mumbled without being able to help it. "But… Maybe that they also would like to know that the death of their loved one helped other people cope. It’s possible Meg. And maybe they just don’t know how to contact me or-"

Meg shook her head again with a little compassionate pout.

"Even if they knew, handsome, they couldn’t. It’s against the law. Medical confidentiality and all that crap." She sighed before she came to sit on the chair beside him and put her feet on his bed.

Castiel let out a groan of frustration.

"Yes… But there are necessarily registers somewhere, a way to find a contact." Suddenly, something seemed to light up in his eyes and he turned his hopeful face towards Meg.

"Oh no, don’t give me that look." She groaned, knowing that it was not good news.

Castiel ignored her.

"Could you have access to organ donor records? You told me the heart came from the next town."

"And just by doing that, I’ve already told you too much." Meg said, raising an insolent eyebrow.

"You must be able to find an address, right? There must be even a name or maybe a phone number. I mean, if it’s a medical secret then the information has to be somewhere. If I could just put my finger on a semblance of something, it would be…" He moistened his lips, thinking. " It would be incredible."

Meg grumbled again, throwing her head back with exaggeration.

"Let’s say I have access to this information, and I mean maybe. Just giving it to you could cost me my job, Clarence. Why is it so important for you to find the name of a dead guy?" She snapped.

At these words Castiel’s face slumped slightly. He remained silent for a moment, seeking the right answer to this question. Meanwhile, he felt his heart squeeze in his chest and the blood it sent to his brain was enough to formulate his next words.

"Because it is unfair that I survived among so many others." He said." My donor had relatives, maybe siblings, a dog, friends and all lost something too valuable to be replaced in this car accident. Yet that’s how organ donation works. Someone dies and allows others to live. But I know that, if I had died on that operating table, my parents would have liked to know through whom I would have continued to live. I feel responsible Meg."

Castiel took a shaky breath before gently biting his lip while his friend welcomed his words with contemplative silence. Television continued to gossip in the background, but Castiel no longer heard it, lost in his thoughts.

"And yet, you are not." Meg said gently, leaving aside her usual sarcasm this time.

Castiel nodded slowly.

"I know." He sighed again before returning to his plate. "I’m sorry, you’re right. I can’t ask you anything like that anyway, it was selfish of me."

Following this, only the noise of the cutlery against the ceramics as well as the television journalist was heard in the hospital room. Meg didn’t move, didn’t open her mouth either, while each of them thought about their commitments in this story.

Finally, after several minutes of silence, the nurse sighed dramatically.

"What the hell wouldn’t I do for those beautiful blue eyes." She said under her breath. "Okay, I’ll see what I can do about the address." She says while rolling her eyes before standing up.

Castiel turned his head so quickly towards her that he was afraid to break his neck.

"What?" He asked, stunned.

"But I can’t guarantee you anything, Clarence." Meg told him while sighing. "You don’t access their organ donor files like that, but… I may have a couple of people I could contact. But it’s just between us."

She glared at him, and Castiel nodded, mouth open.

"I... of course."

Meg swore softly.

"One more thing." She said." I’ll try everything, but if I don’t find anything, you have to promise me you won’t try to get a name anymore. Do we have a deal?"

Castiel closed his mouth in a discreet snap before taking his friend’s last words into consideration. Finally, he nodded again.

"I promise you." He said seriously.

"Good." Meg sighed. "You’ll owe me one, angel."

A smile appeared again on Castiel’s face, more tender this time, his heart still playing up its own behind the scar of his chest.

"Thank you, Meg." He whispered.

"Shuddup." She grumbled with a wink before her pager rang in the room.

In no time, she waved at him and disappeared in the corridor, taking the empty wagon with her. Castiel went back to his bed with a light smile on his face. Yes, Meg was a good friend.

* * *

November

Meg’s research had still not yielded anything even a month after Castiel left the hospital. Although he was now alone again in his large apartment, there was something exhilarating about being able to live normally as if he had not nearly died a few months ago. Finding a job at the florist in his town had been the first step in his new life as he slowly resumed a normal social life with his friends and family.

His own search had also given nothing and the inbox of the website that could put him in contact with his donor’s family remained hopelessly empty. Nevertheless, Castiel did not get the idea out of his head. He often dreamed of meeting these strangers, of the words he would say to them if they had the chance to do so.

It was during a cold November evening, while he was bundled up in a plaid on his couch in front of a TV show, that Castiel’s cellphone rang. It was not something particularly unusual, but the late hour of the evening immediately gave this call something special. When he reached out to his phone, he could see Meg’s name on the screen.

"Hello?" He said, picking up, his heartbeat accelerating.

"Hi Clarence." Meg, a net of excitement in the voice, hastily replied. "Tell me you’re sitting, handsome, I’d hate to hear you fall on your ass because of what I’m about to tell you."

At this, Castiel straightened up in the sofa, his heart going up his throat.

"I’m sitting." He simply said, his fingers tightening around his phone.

"Okay, because I have something for you!" Meg hummed. "The info cost me at least three boxes of chocolate and the promise of a date to the shady guy in the operating room. You know, the one who keeps wearing Britney Spears t-shirts under his blouses? He’d be doing karaoke parties with the girl from the fourth floor that I wouldn’t even be surprised at-

"Meg." Castiel impatiently cut her off.

"Yes, yes. All this to say that he knows who approved your transplant application. So…" She said with pride, leaving a second of silence to settle her effect. I know where your little heart comes from and how to reach out to the family!"

At once, Castiel felt the air blocked in his throat. These words, he had waited for them for months while everything gradually turned into a crazy and inaccessible hope. Suddenly, through a simple phone call, Meg had just remade his world.

"Are you certain?" He finally asked, with a short breath.

"Oh, Clarence, please! Don’t you trust your favorite nurse anymore?" Meg laughed immediately.

Castiel shook his head, a bit stunned. Meg resumed.

"I sent you everything by e-mail, you must have received it." She said with malice. "But remember: keep it under your hat pretty boy. You don’t know me."

"Yes, I... of course." Castiel stuttered, rising to rush towards his computer.

"Hey." Meg called him through the phone, her voice softer. "I know it’s important to you, but… take the time to assimilate the information, okay? You don’t have to contact them tonight."

Castiel knew she was right, but the excitement was in his chest. However, he took the time to thank Meg warmly and invite her to dinner next week before hanging up. A few minutes later he had his eyes fixed on a brand new e-mail in his inbox. Castiel took a great inspiration. He had waited so long for this moment that, now that he was faced with a fait accompli, he was almost afraid to go for it.

Finally, he found the courage to click on the screen. His eyes quickly passed over her friend’s introductory text before fixating on a name written in bold as well as a lot of personal information listed just below. Reading these few lines, Castiel felt his heart racing again.

Samuel William Winchester

Born: March 2, 1983, in Lawrence, Kansas

Died: September 13, 2006, in Des Moines, Iowa

Cause: Head injury, road accident

Blood type: O negative

Applicant for organ donation: Yes

Organ removed: Heart

The data sheet thus continued in a professional coldness that affected Castiel slightly as he felt his throat tightening. His donor was only 23 when he died. He read every piece of information carefully before he got to the part he was most interested in.

Contact person in case of problem: Dean Winchester

Donor affiliation: older brother

Castiel felt his hands become sweaty as his gaze slid over the address and telephone number of Dean Winchester. A heavy silence filled his apartment, Castiel still unable to detach his gaze from this decisive email.

That’s it. The family of his donor was only a phone call away and he could finally thank the entourage of his savior. However, with this crucial information came a bitter feeling that Castiel had not apprehended. He remained all night pacing in his living room, his eyes regularly returning to the phone number taunting him from the screen of his computer.

* * *

December

Three months. Three long months since his little brother had disappeared in a car accident, leaving him and their parents in the grip of nameless sadness. He could barely breathe most of the time thinking of that youthful face he would never see again.

Dean passed a tired hand over his face as he walked past the windows of an umpteenth shop decorated with trees and garlands. Celebrating Christmas seemed absurd, totally meaningless in such a context. What’s the point if he can’t see Sammy’s jaded face in front of his usual porn magazine that he buys especially for him every year, for the joke? His world has been tasteless for far too long now.

Mary managed to keep her head above water half the time, calling him every day to hear from him, to which Dean responded with as many reassuring words as he could. Everyone knew that most of them sounded empty, but they could only pretend to be okay these past few months. Dean was wondering if the pain would eventually go away. He was told yes. He doubted that. John, on the other hand, drank a little more every day and Dean felt guilty about leaving his mother with him all day, regardless of Mary’s reassuring words.

The ground seemed to collapse under his feet as Dean looked for a way out. The truth is, he didn’t know how to do it without breaking everything around him. His days passed one after the other in a sickly similarity: work, eat, reassure, start again. He no longer had his stupid little brother to listen to his stories, no one to share his Friday night evenings with and who would be there to support him in any situation. He had his friends left, but, honestly, no one could understand him like Sam did for 23 years.

An umpteenth sigh passed through the barrier of his lips when a rock-like music rose out of his pocket. Already worried that it was still his mother, Dean took out his cell phone. Unknown number. He raised an eyebrow and picked up.

"Hello?" He said in a hoarse voice.

The line remained silent and Dean frowned. He could hear a breath at the other end of the line, so he tried again.

"Hello?"

"Oh, uh, yes! Hello, sir, uh, Dean?" An uncertain voice immediately answered with a short breath and tangled words.

Dean raised an eyebrow. Had he given his phone number to anyone recently? Not to his knowledge in any case, he very rarely went outside the garage in which he worked. Curious, Dean turned into a quiet street to concentrate on his interlocutor.

"Who am I speaking with?" He asked with a hint of sarcasm.

The man on the other side of the phone seemed to take a breath before resuming in an equally nervous tone.

"I’m sorry, we don’t really know each other. I am aware that my call may be unwelcome, in fact I hesitated for a long time before contacting you." The man stuttered.

Dean sighed.

"Well, listen, if it’s to sell me something then I’m not interested, thank you."

"No!" The man quickly added. "No, I don’t want to sell you anything. I…" Another inspiration."My name is Castiel Novak. I live in Waterloo. I know this is going to sound weird, but… I received your brother Samuel’s heart."

Dean remained silent for a long time, trying to assimilate each of the words he had just heard. At the sound of Sam’s name, he thought he was dying a bit more. A kind of thud rose in his ears, so that he thought he had fallen into a pool while he was not paying attention to his steps. Besides, Dean wasn’t even sure where he was, now standing still in the middle of the street. Only a deep and sizzling voice gradually emerged from his torpor.

"I am sorry." Castiel went on after a long silence. "I’ve taken the liberty of contacting you, but I can assure you that I don’t want to cause you any more trouble than that." He seemed to be searching for his words for a moment." I know I could never thank Samuel for his gesture, but... your brother saved my life. I just wanted to let you know how grateful I was, even though I couldn’t replace what you lost. If there’s anything I can do to help, it would be my pleasure. However, I also understand that you would never want to hear from me again... But I can assure you that I will take care of his heart. Samuel really did a lot of good in my life and with my loved ones."

Castiel started to mutter, as if he was suddenly deeply embarrassed by this phone call. Dean was convinced that he had to send back the image of a man ravaged by grief right now, his arms swaying and his gaze lost.

"Sam." He finally replied in a trembling voice. Dean took the time to clear his throat before continuing. "He preferred to be called Sam."

"Okay." Castiel said after another moment of hesitation. "Well… Sam really is a hero to me, Dean, I wanted you to know that."

Dean nodded stupidly, no matter how Castiel couldn’t see him. He felt that the sky had just fallen on his head, he felt completely disoriented. Of course Sammy was a hero, the rest of humanity didn’t even know how lucky they were to be around him. Dean knew that Sam had donated his organs, he had even given everything he could, because he was like that. But knowing that the heart was beating in someone else’s body, giving them a chance to continue to live and breathe… It was something he hadn’t really thought about until then.

"I’m going to leave you, I’m sorry I interfered in your life like this." Castiel apologized again. "I will not call this number again, I promise. I hope everything will be all right for your family, sincerely."

Dean’s heart skipped a beat and his muscles began to move, pushing him to almost scream on the phone.

"No, wait!" Realizing that Castiel had still not hung up, Dean quieted down, a shiver in his voice. "I don’t even know how you found this number, but… Well, it doesn’t matter. You’re from Waterloo? Iowa?

"Yes." Castiel said. "I’m about a two-hour drive from Des Moines. I don’t know if you live nearby, but-

"Des Moines, yeah." Dean replied, stunned. How did this guy know so much about Sam, he thought that the organ donation was anonymous? "Would you be available to meet in the week?"

An umpteenth silence answered his question and, frankly, Dean himself did not know why he had asked it. Maybe he was holding on to a ghost, a hopeless, senseless hope of finding something that once belonged to Sam. But what else did he have to lose now?

"… Are you going to punch me in the face if I say yes?" Castiel asked with distrust.

Surprisingly, it snatched a small laugh from Dean who barely recognized the sound of his voice. He hadn’t laughed that easily in weeks now.

"No." He answered. "I just want to talk, if that’s okay?"

He didn’t know what to think of this situation, it was too surreal. Was he angry with this man? No, not really. Sad? Maybe, but nothing new. Curious? Certainly. There were so many questions that now turned in his mind, almost stunning him. Never before had he heard a similar story and, yes, he was driven to the unknown by the despair of that mourn which he had never ended. But to hell with it, he needed to feel Sam’s heart beating against his hand again.

"Okay, I’d love to, then. What’s your schedule?"

Dean felt a piece of his soul warming up.

* * *

January

Their first encounter had definitely been strange and completely atypical. They had arranged to meet in a café halfway between their two cities, and despite a tense start, Dean and Castiel had talking much of the afternoon. Dean had been biting his tongue all along so he wouldn’t ask the fateful question of "excuse me, can we stop talking so I can put my hand against your heart?". But Castiel had finally come to the point by asking him if he could tell him about Sam and things had been done naturally. It was as if someone had opened the floodgates and quickly, Dean was unable to stop the incessant flow of words about his little brother. He told him the most important thing, from his childhood memories to that weird tic that Sam had every time he was upset.

Castiel had then smiled softly at each of his anecdotes and, when Dean had finally been allowed to feel this pulsating heart against his hand, Castiel had not moved. Dean was almost certain that he had let slip a strangled exclamation, but Castiel had just contented himself with that sweet and understanding look. At the end of their appointment, they had agreed to meet again. They both needed it.

The month of February began on another encounter at the park this time, at Des Moines. The winter was still rough and persistent this year, so they had decided to go and enjoy a hot chocolate near the pond. Dean hadn’t told his parents about it, not yet, but this meeting with Castiel did him as much good as the first. When he returned home, he found himself feeling much lighter than before.

They did not wait until the following month to meet again, and their third meeting took place in Waterloo this time. Castiel had invited him to dinner at a restaurant he called "the best in town" and Dean could not possibly say no to the prospect of a good meal.

March hosted their first meeting in a private place. Dean had taken care to clean up the mess from top to bottom before Castiel rang his doorbell and, seeing the huge bouquet of flowers that his friend had brought him, an easy smile spread over his face. Easy. It was the right word to define Castiel. Everything was easy with him, obvious and sweet. He never judged him, no matter what topic of conversation he decided to share with him. Castiel listened and supported and Dean had not felt so free and understood since at least 6 months now. One evening, he even wildly wondered if Sam’s heart had not completely taken possession of Castiel to make him this radiant and exceptional person. Until then, Dean had never known anyone but his brother who could read him like an open book.

In April and several appointments later, however, Dean understood that it was not really a fraternal connection he shared with Castiel. He learned to dwell more on the looks and gestures exchanged. Everything was crazy, insane, but once again, everything had always been crazy between them, and this from the first day.

May marked the beginning of a mental breakdown for Dean. He was definitely falling in love with his now best friend and that terrified him. What if he was wrong? What if the fear of losing sight of the only thing that still connected him to his deceased brother led him to feel faked feelings for Castiel? He had no right to be wrong here, he could not make his friend suffer, for he was too stubborn and miserable to properly analyze his own feelings. His cowardice pushed him away from Castiel — "to avoid making him suffer," he said — and the deep despair that this created in each of them was almost as hard as a second mourning. Almost.

Despite his best efforts not to hurt his best friend, June began with a considerable argument. Castiel felt rightfully unfairly rejected, and Dean could not bring himself to pronounce the words that burned his throat. However, neither of them expressed themselves more when Castiel, after a final overwhelming exclamation, brutally kissed Dean’s lips. The latter greeted him with a sob before deepening their kiss. No, Dean did not only love that beating heart in his chest… He had fallen in love with so much more.

July and August passed at an alarming speed as each of the two men discovered another facet of the other. Castiel had met Dean’s parents and Dean had not seen his mother so happy for a long time now. However, the one-year date of Sam’s accident was fast approaching and Dean could not ignore the weight it added to his shoulders. Little by little, Sam’s heart had become Castiel’s one in his eyes and his boyfriend was gradually filling the void that he felt deep inside him, but this dammed month of September was now taunting him every day on the calendar.

"Would you like to put your head against my chest?" Castiel once proposed as they both prepare to go to bed.

Dean froze, air jammed in his lungs.

"What?" He asked, stunned. He wasn’t sure if he heard correctly.

Castiel smiled softly, as always, before taking his hand in his.

"Just tonight." He replied, as if that explains everything.

And without really understanding how, Dean nodded and lay down with Castiel. Docilely, he had let his companion draw him to himself until his ear rested against the scar of his chest. Some breathing later, Dean was able to discern the beats under the mutilated skin and the world stopped spinning. He remained there for hours, his eyes open but lost in nostalgia and stifling emotion. He was alive and well, determined not to disappear. Not this time. When Dean began to cry silently, Castiel simply hugged him harder to comfort him, without a word. This was so precious to him. It quickly became their favorite position, Dean kissing the scar whenever he could.

September passed by in a bitter sweet atmosphere that neither Dean nor Castiel regretted sharing together. One evening in October, bundled up under the duvet to fight off a new winter, Dean could not take his eyes off the blue gaze smiling back. He thought of what his last months had been, what he had lost, but also what he had found. In front of him, Castiel squeezed the hand on his chest while breathing the same warm air as his partner. Their heart rate was calm and painless.

"I love you." Dean huffed at the bend of another tender smile.

At his words, Dean felt Castiel’s heart miss a beat under his palm and maybe, just maybe, was this the way his brother told him how happy he was for him.

* * * @winchester-reload

I hope you enjoyed it! I would really like to develop other moments like their first meeting or the evolution of their friendship until they become a couple. However, I had only one day to write and I had to make choices :). I am proud of this work but also rather doubtful of the final result so, if you liked it, please take the time to leave me a quick review in the comments. It would mean a lot to me. Thanks again for reading to the end, see you tomorrow!

You can find the whole series on Ao3

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taeyohonic · 4 years

Text

Just a Taste – Chapter One

Summary: Being asked to take a blood test just to work at a merchandise booth should have been the first read flag for you. But you just gave them a sample of your blood in exchange for a very much needed paycheck and a summer job during BTS’ world tour. After the youngest member of the popular kpop band finds himself in a difficult situation, you come to realize that this wasn’t the last time you shed blood for your idols. or: You becomes the new donor for seven bloodthirsty idols, who seem to be way too interested in their new food source.

Pairing: OT7xfem!Reader

Genre: Fantasy, Smut, (Fluff)

Warnings: blood, they aren’t very nice to you...

Words: 2.7k

Chapters: Prologue, Chap. I, Chap. II, Chap. III, Chap. IV, Chap. V, Chap. VI, Chap. VII

“What do you mean ‘all the bags are gone’?”

Your supervisor does not look amused. The girl with an abnormal amount of glitter on her face does not look amused. Hell, even you don’t look amused. The stadium hasn’t even begun to let the fans in and your merch booth ran out of the official “speak yourself”-bag ten minutes ago.

This job is in the top three most gruesome things you had to do for money. But money was tight, and you didn’t want to survive another summer on ramen and cheap wine. The job ad was harmless at first glance. Just another sales job. But they promised good pay and international traveling, which was enough to let your eyes linger. There was no company mentioned, just a post box.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when BigHit responded to your application a week later. With Bangtan’s rising popularity and the massive size of their tour, extra staff had to be hired. Still, the ARMY in you couldn’t contain her excitement. This was a big deal for you. Touring with one of your favorite kpop bands, traveling to Japan and getting first dips on all the merchandise? This was a no brainer. Hell, you would have even paid them to tag along. So you dressed to impress when you attended the interview, keeping your giddiness locked behind a professional smile.

“You want what?”, you ask – disbelieve coloring your voice.

“A blood test”, the interviewer repeats nonchalantly without looking up from her questionnaire.

Was this normal procedure? You had only ever worked in your aunt’s bookstore during senior year of high school and at a fast food place all through undergrad. Neither asked for your freaking bloodline.

“What? Do you discriminate certain blood types?”, you say in mock humor. A laugh disguised as a cough rings through the room, as the cute guy in the back of the room tries to hide his amusement. His eyes are locked on your features.

“We just want to make sure all our employees are healthy. You’ll be travelling to a foreign country, working long hours.”, the woman in front of you replies, ignoring your bad attempt at a joke. She continues: “You don’t have to – of course.”

“But then I won’t be asked back for a second interview, am I right?”

The woman looks you in the eyes for the first time since entering the room. She doesn’t look as evil as she sounds. “No”

So, you guess you’ll leave with a bit less body fluid than you anticipated.

There wasn’t a second interview. The test results came with a pre-signed contract.

***

“What the fuck is up with this boy today?”, Joo-Won swears as his eyes are glued to the screen in front of you. Your shift is officially over. Most of the merchandise is packed up, all the sold-out item IDs are sent to the head quarter and you already got a notification that the next delivery will be arriving first thing tomorrow morning. Now you’re sitting together with some crew members, a half-finished soju bottle in your hand and an empty carton of take-out on your lap. The guy at your job interview turned out to be quite fun.

Joo-Won introduced himself during the briefing on your first day in Japan. He is responsible for the ARMY Bomb stands, which seems to be a very big deal around here. This is his third tour with Bangtan and he seems to know nearly every henchmen in this operation. So it came to no surprise when a stage assistant invited you both to watch the concert from one of the twelve monitors backstage. Of course, you didn’t look too out of place with your name badge and the Love Yourself-hoodie you may or may not have purchased with your employee discount.

The stage assistant, whose name you can’t remember, is fuzzing with screen number five as you take another sip of your afterwork drink. You stare not really focusing on anything. Just blank nothingness.

“You did see this as well, right _______?”, Joo-Won asks breathlessly.

You can only nod. The Fake Love performance just ended. And even though all seven idols were on fire, the youngest was just out of control.

“What did we just see?”, the boy continues.

“Rudeness”, you answer and empty the bottle with a hefty swing. You knew Jungkook would lift his shirt. You were prepared as you had seen their comeback stage more times than you’d be comfortable to admit. This was not news to you. But the aggression in his stare, how dark he growled his verses, the hard edges on his mouth, not even hinting a friendly smile, was making you uncomfortable.

Before your new friend can respond his headset beeped. Joo-Won answer, his eyes still on the screen.

“Yeah?” After a beat his eyes flash to you. You squirm uncomfortably in your seat.

“_________ is with me”, he says and you need a second to register your role in the conversation.

Joo-Won’s stare lingers on your face – a silent question in his eyes.

“Sure, sir. I’ll bring her to you right away.” Then he ends the call sifting, so your knees are brushing against one another.

“Care to explain, why Bangtan’s prime management wants to speak with you, _______?”, your friend asks, no judgement in his voice. What?

***

“So, I have to sign another NDA?”, you ask the manager in front of you, trying to swallow your nervousness. This is the Sejin, Bangtan’s right hand advisor. Every fan knows him from countless Bangtan Bombs and can easily recognize the fathering care in his work.

“This one… is more specific”, he explains and moves the stack of papers to you. You try to calm your excited fingers as you grab at the legal document, flipping through it.

“And it’s time sensitive”, Sejin adds and searches your eyes for attention. You give it to him.

“Time sensitive?” The papers abandoned on the table. “Is something wrong with the boys?”

There will come a time and place when you reflect on the choice of calling these men “the boys” as if they were your closest friends. But it’s not today. Today you just see a glint in his eyes.

“Yes, it’s Jungkookie”, Sejin starts and your memories flash to their concert an hour prior. How Joo-Won and you both discussed how beastly the youngest looked – how aggressive.

“Wh-what?”, you answer in question. The manager’s hands move on top of yours.

“He is ill and … you might be able to help him. We can’t transport him. And we are not sure he’ll survive an ambulance ride.”

Your brain blanks as you stand up in a swift move. This is simple: One of your most cherished idols is ill and his trustworthy manager tells you that you’ll be able to help. This is a no brainer.

“Take me to him”, you order, not even caring that Sejin’s words are not making any sense. How can a twenty-four-year-old college dropout help the golden maknae? What even is his illness?

Sejin’s smile should have been another red flag. “Slow down, _________”, he sooths and moves around the table so he is standing in front of you. “This is important. You have to sign the documents. You’ll have to transfuse blood to him.” He is handling you a pen. “There are health risks. This isn’t … the most optimal environment for a blood donation.”

Jungkook needs your blood – memories of your job interview come back.

You sign the contract, not even reading all the small-printed clauses on the pages. Before the ink is even dry, Sejin is moving you through a long corridor. His hand rests on your neck – squeezing reassuringly. A glimmer travels across your body and you try to ground yourself. Of course you are nervous. This is reasonable. You’ll donate blood to one of your favorite idols. Maybe you’ll see him, when he gets better. Hell, maybe he’ll even thank you in person! Meeting Bangtan is the closest form to aspiration you have at the moment.

“When is the nurse coming?”, you question the logistics as you move towards the farthest door labeled “BTS”.

“Which nurse?” You look at Sejin in surprise – if not a nurse, who’ll take your blood?

“Then a doctor?”, you ask and Sejin shakes his head, a humorless chuckle escaping him while you both come to a halt in front of the door.

“There is… no time I’m afraid”, he answers – with remorse in his voice. There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, some of the fog lifted. How the hell should you give Jungkook your blood if there is not even a transfusion station here?

Sejin knocks at the door, ignoring your thumbing heartbeat and opens the door, softly pushing you into the room. “I’ll explain everything; I promise.”

***

The starving vampire smells your sweet blood as soon as the door opens – Sejin a mere decoration in his vision. Jungkook’s whole body turns towards you while your eyes nervously shift across the room. Time slows down as the maknae swiftly moves straight to you. His muscles ache and he cannot even recognize his swallow breathing. His stare is fixed on the nap of your neck – deliciously soft, milky. Not even the slightest imperfection in this human before him.

You do not even sense Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s presence as your eyes take in the predator advancing towards you. The older ones seem frozen as their youngest stops just a breath away from you. You look mouthwatering – clad in one of their merchandise hoodies, hair pinned in a mess at the top of your head, some bold eye make-up, but otherwise barefaced. You look… just right.

Before Jungkook’s grin spreads across his face, Jin takes action – trying to move between the sarved vampire and this … girl. What the hell was Sejin thinking just throwing her in here? Did he want this human dead so badly?

But the oldest is too late – Jungkook growls aggressively as he snatches you against his firm chest. All the air leaves your lungs – your breasts pressed painfully against solid muscle.

“Ahh”, you groan. As soon as the noise leaves your mouth, his lips descend against the white of your neck. The maknae hisses in pleasure; and then he is biting – hard.

Your scream misses the volume and you feel tears on your cheeks as you gaze into Seokjin’s overwhelmed eyes – hands outstretched.

Blood flows freely into Jungkook’s mouth and you hear a sickening slurping sound. The pain is blazing against your skin, every fiber of your body vehemently trying to get away from the maknae. But your fingers don’t push him away. No, the curl around his biceps – acting against every rational though inside your brain. You cling to the man sucking your blood as if he’s merely leaving a love bite.

The pain in your body slowly ebbs and you feel a bright bliss surrounding you. You’re not even sure if you are still standing at the door. There is no room – just lips against your neck and whimpers in your throat… and Namjoon’s voice far, far away.

“Jungkook stop now.”

“This is an order.”

“Jin, help me.”

“Let’s lay her down.”

“Is there a pulse?”

***

“How do you take your coffee?”, Yoongi asks while starring at you with such indifference in his eyes you’re not sure your answer even matters.

“Uhm- I” His sigh interrupts you as he makes his way from the couch across form you to the kitchenette. The whole room is dimmed in a soft light, the furniture a clean white. You feel your head spin as you try to recall what happened. Weren’t you backstage? Didn’t Jun-

“Jungkook”, your voice more of an accusation than a whisper. Yoongi’s back stiffens, but he continues to brew hot water over a ceramic filter and soon a soothing smell of coffee drifts towards you on the white leather.

“Jungkook sucked m-y – he su”

“-cked your blood. Damn girl, how hard did you hit your head when you fainted?”, your favorite rapper asks – his body finally turned towards you.

Slow, leisure steps are taken and then he sits in front of you, taking you all in. You must look like a mess; grease and sweat from your shift in the booth, plus the incident with the youngest vocalist in the band. All the blood. Your stomach turns around uncomfortably.

Yoongi is looking into your eyes and for a split second you see something other than complete boredom behind his stare, but as soon as you try to pinpoint the emotion, it vanishes.

“That’s what vampire do”, he continues and you heart reacts before the triggering word even registers in your brain. Vampire. No way.

“Go-ood one, Yoongi-ssi. This… this isn’t – some romance novel for teenagers”, you scoff, disbelieve in your voice while your heart beats hard against your chest. Without missing a beat, the idol is in your face – literally just millimeters away. The air is stuck in your lungs as you try to calm yourself.

“You know what I hate, dumb human?”

His fingers draw lines across your face – just a feathering touch, barely more than an illusion. You can only shake your head; afraid your voice will give out if you try to answer verbally.

His face moves down to your neck as his hands frame your face – no longer brushing but locking your head into place. Then his mouth dives into your neck, just resting against your pulse. You can feel the sinister smile against your skin as you shiver.

“Talking to dumb people”, his lips vibrate and you feel goosebumps traveling across your body.

“You have all the proof, but your silly little brain still doesn’t – connect the pieces”, Yoongi trails small kisses across your collarbone; a stark contrast to his insulting words.

“Do you really think our little maknae just has a blood kink?”

He moves to the other side of your neck, while titling your head forcefully to the left. You can’t move your body – muscles frozen into place. You’re just passively… enduring what your favorite idol does to you. Now his teeth are grazing your right earlobe, as his voice drops another octave into a threatening growl.

“That we just hire a college dropout because of her work ethics?”

His words hurt, but you’re more concerned with the information behind them. They know about you, must have read your file. Shame colors your cheeks and Yoongi’s nose inhales deeply against the red of your skin.

“You smell fucking delicious”, he moans and places an open mouth kiss against your rosé cheek. You can feel his saliva on your skin and a whimper of your own escapes your throat.

“You like that, dumb human? Knowing I’d love… nothing more than to bite in your flesh? Drain you dry?”, he slurs. You both know that this is nothing more than a rhetorical question – your heart, your breathing and the wetness between your tights enough evidence.

But before he can act on his words, a searing pain flashes through your brain.

“Argh”, you groan pressing your head against his cold hands with virgo. The dead skin of his fingertips sooths the throbbing in your brain temporarily. But he knows that your time is nearing its end.

“Human, listen to me”, he whispers, his previously threatening tone making place for urgent whisper.

“When you wake up” What? His hands still a vise to keep you grounded, while the pain in your head expands to your whole body. “Damn human, focus!”

He searches your eyes for recognition, but your stare moves around the room – now noticing how alien the light looks, how… clean the colors are. Is this? Are you still sleeping? How?

“When you wake up”, Yoongi’s voice nothing more than a vibrating hum in your ears, “Say no to Namjoon.”

Now he is shaking you. “Say no”

***

“Good morning, sleepyhead”, Namjoon says after you open your eyes – the morning sun blinding you momentarily.

“I made you coffee”, he adds as he pushes a steaming mug in your hands. The familiar smell takes you back to your dream, to Yoongi, his words, his plea – and you gape at the leader in front of you.

“I thought we could talk?”

_______________________

A/N: What do you guys think? I am so thankful for the feedback you guys sent me. It means a lot! I hope you like this chapter as much as i do! I’d love to hear from you again! love, dana

taglist: @m0chilattae @gali-005 @fangirls94 @dinopowa @toddsgirl27 @littlemanismoon @dkck99 @slutkoo @subtlepjiminie @coffeebeanismylife @iloverubberduckiez-blog @geminidrawsstuff @olivialovemason88

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kpopgirl1234bl · 4 years

Note

Hey honey! can you write a part 2 for the scenario with Ciel with an ill s/o, where he finds the cure but is a super silly ritual, like she has to kiss the love of her life in a full moon night while holding a white dove (you can improvise whatever you want with this💙), and Ciel is afraid cuz if it doesnt work that would mean he isnt her real love (obviously he is 💙) thanks so much gorgeous writer 💙💙💙💙

I absolutely love this idea!

I did something on my own, but I hope it didn't ruin the story

Hope you enjoy the story

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Summary: Ciel finally found a cure for your family curse, but will it work?

Pairing: Ciel Phantomhive x fem!reader

Words: 1.420

Warning: a little angst but fluffy ending

Request: Yes

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Ever since you had fallen ill and you told Ciel about your family's curse, Ciel never stopped looking for a cure for this curse.

After talking to several doctors and talking to Sebastian, and The Undertaker, Ciel finally believed he found a cure for your family's illness.

Ciel also learned during his research, discovered that you had a mark on your back, that would spread when the illness began taking over.

Luckily for Ciel, the illness hadn't started to spread yet.

When Ciel found the cure and told you about it, you laughed a little since it sounded kind of funny, but if the ritual worked, nothing could stop you.

You and Ciel started planning everything for the next full moon, where the ritual would take place. But during this time, Ciel started to doubt himself.

'What if it doesn't work?'

'What if I am not her true love?'

You saw this plaguing his mind and reassured him that you loved him and only him. You had loved no one like him before, and would never stop loving him.

In the middle of planning, tragedy struck.

While planning, you started to feel sick. You thought nothing of it until you looked in a mirror.

The mark had started to spread.

Ciel found you collapsed and crying on the floor, he rushed over to you and asked you what was wrong.

You told him that the mark had started to spread, after telling him that, Ciel felt his whole world stop and he felt completely numb for a moment.

'This can't be happening.' Ciel thought.

Ciel felt numb to the world, absolutely heartbroken, but yet he remained confident.

"Y/N." You heard Ciel say your name.

"Y-Yes." you sobbed and dried your tears.

"Marry me?" Ciel looked you dead in the eyes when he asked you this. You looked shocked at him, unable to speak a single word.

"I don't care if the ritual works or nor, I want to marry the woman I love," Ciel said, holding you close, close enough for you to hear his beating heart.

"Yes." You hugged him and clutched a fistful of his clothes.

Ciel pulled back and smiled at you, drying the tears that kept falling from your eyes. Ciel leaned in slowly and captured your sweet lips in a passionate and loving kiss.

TIME SKIP

You and Ciel began preparing the ritual alongside a makeshift wedding. Since the wedding was a last-minute decision, you and Ciel agreed on a small wedding and only invited the closest people to you.

The days slowly approached the ritual day, and Ciel spends as much time with you to make sure you were okay.

So far, the illness had not spread that far, but you still felt sick. But despite being sick, you found a beautiful dress you wanted to wear for the ritual. Ciel had not seen the dress, so you were excited to see his reaction.

TIME SKIP

The day was finally here. The day of the ritual was finally here.

The day was spend preparing the garden for the ritual/ceremony.

Later in the day, you and Ciel were lead into separated rooms and began to get ready for tonight.

"Are you nervous, Miss Y/n?" Mey-Rin asked you as she got you into your dress.

"Very Mey-Rin, I mean what if it doesn't work, what would I do." You said, and you felt Mey-Rin place her hand on your shoulder.

"Miss Y/N, love will always find a way, don't worry." Mey-Rin smiled and continued working on your dress.

TIME SKIP

You stood with Sebastian before the doors that lead into the garden, where Ciel was waiting for you two.

Instead of a bouquet, you were holding a pure white dove since the ritual called for a white dove.

"We are ready to begin the ceremony." Finnian ran up and told you. You took a deep breath, and you two slowly began walking as the doors opened.

You spotted Ciel immediately and smiled at him.

You now stood in front of Ciel, smiling as the moonlight shone brightly upon you two as the ceremony/ritual began.

"We are gathered here today to unite Ciel Phantomhive and Y/N L/N." The priest said.

"Bring the rings forward, please." The priest said, and Finnian stepped forward with the rings. You and Ciel took the rings and ready to place them on your fingers of each other.

"Now do you Ciel Phantomhive, take Y/N L/N, to be your partner in life and sharing your path; equal in love, a mirror for your true self, promising to honor and cherish, through good times and bad, until death do you part?" The priest asked Ciel.

"I do," Ciel said and smiled at you, looking deep into your eyes.

"Do you Y/N L/N, take Ciel Phantomhive, to be your partner in life and sharing your path; equal in love, a mirror for your true self, promising to honor and cherish, through good times and bad, until death do you part?" The priest asked you.

"I do," You said and smiled brightly.

"Ciel, please repeat after me. "I Ciel Phantomhive give you Y/N this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you." The priest said.

"I Ciel Phantomhive give you Y/N this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you," Ciel repeated what the priest had said and placed the ring on your finger.

"Y/N repeat after me. "I Y/n give you Ciel Phantomhive this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you." The priest said.

"I Y/N give you Ciel Phantomhive this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you." You repeated what the priest said and placed the ring onto Ciel's finger.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride." The priest announced.

You smiled at Ciel and looked down at the white dove. You felt Ciel place his hand over yours, holding the dove.

You both leaned in, and finally, your lips met in a sweet and passionate kiss.

You both pulled away, and you felt the dove squirm, so you let it go, and it flew towards the moon. Right after, you felt a pain in your back where the mark was. You bend down, the pain made it unbearable, and you couldn't breathe.

"Y/N!?" you heard Ciel shout. You laid on the ground, hyperventilating. Not long after, the pain subsided, and you could finally breathe again. You looked up at Ciel, looking at you concerned. You looked around, and you saw all the other looking anxious at you.

Just then, you remembered the pain were your mark had been. You grabbed Ciel's hand and ran towards your bedroom.

"Y/N! What's going on?!" Ciel shouted as he ran behind you, hanging on to your hand.

You opened the door to your bedroom and closed it after Ciel, and you ran over the mirror and tried to remove your dress.

"Y-Y/N!" Ciel blushed bright red.

"I-It's not what you think, please just help me remove this dress," you asked Ciel. Ciel reluctantly helped you remove your dress. When your back was unclothed, you turned around and looked.

The mark was gone, completely gone.

"It's gone." You whispered.

"What?" Ciel asked and walked over to for himself.

It was true. The mark was gone. Ciel brushed his fingers against your skin, where the mark once appeared.

"It worked Ciel, it worked." You felt yourself tearing and leaned your head against his chest. Ciel finally snapping out of his daze, wrapped his arms tightly around you.

"It's true after all," you said.

"What is my love," Ciel asked you.

"True love conquers all." You said and smiled at him.

"Indeed it does, my love, indeed it does." Ciel smiled and leaned and kissed you, which you gladly accepted.

'Finally, after all this time, she's finally mine, forever and always.' Ciel thought to himself as he felt your soft lips against his.

After getting you into your dress again, you went to tell everyone that the ritual had worked. Everyone celebrated and cheered.

Later on, you and Ciel retreated to your bedroom. Once you two had entered the bedroom, there was no holding back. You and Ciel rejoiced that from now on, you could spend every day and night in each other's arms.

And that's what you two did that night. Never once leaving or letting go of each other.

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dog-day-morning · 3 years

Text

YOU OWE THEM NOTHING

People can be self-righteous when it comes to what they think God is supposed to do if, and when they call on Him. God is not a genie in a bottle that you rub, and a jinn pops out granting you 3 or 300 wishes. The saying faith without works is dead can be applied here. Have you ever heard of or read the book Daniel Webster and the devil? This tall tale or folklore legend was about a man who made a deal with old Slew Foot, and when it was time to pay up he had 2nd thoughts. Satan never plays fair. He's forever putting us in positions where we find ourselves desperate for a quick solution to a temporary problem that only leads to a difficult end. The Latin term for buyer beware is caveat emptor, and Satan knows how to spell. The power of a wicken comes from their basic weapon of spelling or casting spells by word of mouth. Even the Bible tells us that “Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.” Tell that to a Nicolaitan. Those who make deals with the most unclean should expect to suffer in the end. Never trust the father of lies who deals in treachery, and deceit. I look back at my mother's life and wonder if God had ever intervened for her, and fought her battles that surely He and only He would be able to deliver her from, and He has. Life is hard, for many it’s a nightmare that’s ongoing. Satan comes to you when you're at your weakest or most vulnerable in the hopes of snaring your soul into eternal suffering. Jesus comes to deliver us from death, sin, and temptations that confuse us in our trek towards His truth. If you have any aspirations of entertaining people with your gifted voice or your talent for playing lead guitar, don’t sign a contract that promises you the world only to find out you owe them your sweet ass which a man of honor wouldn't consider let alone make you cosign your body for their horn dog appeasement.

Revelation 2:9

9 I know thy works, and tribulation, and poverty, (but thou art rich) and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are Jews, and are not, but are the synagogue of Satan.

You're abundantly rich in spirit Yacob. Now’s the time to claim your position. These bastards have taken everything from you leaving your ancestors nothing but dust. If they could remove us off the face of the Earth they would. They're plotting to do so as you and I breathe, that's why the Father never sleeps. They are demon spawns who say they worship, and believe in God, but whose god, and what righteous god tells you to destroy a people with his blessing knowing what the children of Japheth have done to them historically? The spawns of Satan want your penuche, mouth, titties, and a-hole for their pleasure along with your talent that Justin Timberlake does not have. The new faces of R&B do not look like the people I grew up listening to or the race of people whose songs left an everlasting impression on my bleeding heart that helped me through my ill-fated, miserable existence. Robin Thicke, Christina Aguilera, K-Pop, the BackStreet Boys, and New Kids on the Block. Some of these groups are defunct, but they’re cranking out as many as they possibly can like Justin Bieber, and Demi Lovato. I just saw on YouTube where people were considering if Elvis Presley was Black, WTF?!! He was the biggest culture thief that Dr. Frankenstein, AKA Colonel Parker ever created. Man is cruel; Satan is a whole other type of bastard you shouldn’t entertain. I'm retarded. Some call me an idiot savant. YO MOMMA!!! People are blessed by the Father who has blessed many of us with gifts. There are many of you whom God has endowed with multiple talents that people would sell their soul in order to possess just one. If you're anointed by God to sing like Aretha Franklin may He lead you to sign with a label like Brother Carl Crawford's who won't make the same mistake he did with a very popular artist at this moment. More than likely you'll sign a contract entrusting your talent, blessing, and soul to the most unclean ones. Ain’t a reason in hell you should bow down or bend over for a leach like Mr. Friedman so he can butt bone your a-hole while enriching himself off your God given talents. God blesses those who seek him out, and those that don’t. I don’t know if Eddie Murphy went to Church, and sowed an offering every Sunday to God praying that the Father would make him the highest paid comedic actor in his prime. Richard Pryor was anointed in the womb to be the most blessed comedic talent, and influential comedian to ever walk this Earth bar none yet he and Mr. Murphy pursued their dreams in different ways with both of them becoming world renown. I'm inclined to ask, was it worth it?

Mark 8:36

For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

The synagogue of Satan isn’t a trending pop culture manifestation that’s to be esteemed, cherished, or envied. These cults are trying to maintain a stranglehold on a world that’s not meant for them or their sort. People who play with Ouija boards or childhood games like Bloody Mary, and light as a feather are ushering dark spirits into their homes leaving their loved ones exposed to something sinister. Get the hell away from me and mine unless you're my sister, AKA Ms. Skunk Funk, who needs to get the crust burnt off her musty, dusty drawers. The whore of Don Juan has a death wish. Explain to me how running with the devil beats walking with God?

Isaiah 59:7

7 Their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed innocent blood: their thoughts are thoughts of iniquity; wasting and destruction are in their paths.

This Nation was built on our ancestor’s blood, sweat, and relentless faith. Believe me when I say there's strength in every tear. I pray to God that I don’t shed anymore of them. Their wealth is not. It's a stolen Promise that the Father shall reward His children with. Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it. The most glaring, and frustrating example that is also bitter and disheartening I can give you is our Promised Inheritance called Yisrael that the gentiles are squatting on. When a person or in this case a tribe or race of people believe in their own lies they've become reprobate; they're lost.

Revelation 3:9

9 Behold, I will make them of the synagogue of Satan, which say they are Jews, and are not, but do lie; behold, I will make them to come and worship before thy feet, and to know that I have loved thee.

This is what all of Esau's children fear. It's why the bland, colored people of the world are flipping over the Earth's axis, and killing us without any probable cause. They are a lawless people who've displayed their lack of empathy, and humanity for anyone save their own breed, they behave like blood hounds. I've become content with this planet being void of water (Holy Spirit.) Black people suffer from a social disorder called the crab bucket mentality. We hate to see anyone rise up, and we’ll do whatever it takes to keep them down or discourage them. That person may possess something that can benefit the collective, who cares. He who possesses that blessing needs to haul tail ASAP before the winter comes knowing the Father will bless him, and a downtrodden people beyond their wildest dreams. This is why Yeshua, and His Father call us children. It's why I pray, and bemoan to the Father daily that He slays me, putting the fear of the Lord in the heathen and His Son Christ Jesus uses us for His purpose. God doesn't need us, we need Him. He's given us so much power, and authority. When you acquire it, use it for something other than satisfying your sinful, carnal, flesh minded desires. Men, don't behave like horn dogs, and women do not behave as Aholah, and Aholibah, 2 whores.

Numbers 32:24

24 Build you cities for your little ones, and folds for your sheep; and do that which hath proceeded out of your mouth.

Out of thine own mouth you have power to tread over snakes and scorpions. You can exorcise demons and devils out of your present life braking generational curses which is what I' want for a family that's disowned me. To God be the glory. God is telling us to declare a thing, and claim it. What a mighty, just God we serve. Your tongue will become a weapon to use against the lawless ones who use theirs recklessly in their attempts to get us arrested or murdered by local, and federal authorities. You can call it giving them a taste of their own medicine, it isn't. You're reclaiming what they've taken, stolen, including those of us they've murdered.

Isaiah 54:17

17 No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is of me, saith the Lord.

The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. Speak positive prayers out loud if you can. If you live with your family or have a roommate pray in the closet. You'll have favor with God that many people won't. They rebuked the Lord, and their anger did tear perpetually, and they kept their wrath forever. When they use their privilege, which is what we call it more often than they, comprehending they’re fully aware knowing they use it with a Demonic, driven hatred. They persecute Black men, women, and children for reasons that are not godly, and the Father does not condone. They, and all the Earth will have to answer for our individual sins against the Father in the end.

Luke 10:19

19 Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.

We don’t worship the same god as they do. They're praying to a god to erase us off the face of the Earth. Why hasn't he?.

Exodus 1:12

12 But the more they afflicted them, the more they multiplied and grew. And they were grieved because of the children of Israel.

Their birth rate is dropping steadily. For the first time in the history of the census they decreased in population globally while indigenous, and other races of people stayed steady or in our case increased. This is the reasoning behind these draconian abortion laws. They're trying to preserve themselves while God is eliminating the Earth of their bloody dominion. God is sending the wicked a message before the storm comes, but no one's listening. Their violence towards us is documented, and more often it's unprovoked. They continue with the guilty until proven worthy of their mercy dogmatic mantra which is racist BS. The Earth will be lulled back to sleep. When they're confident that their world isn't in danger of being challenged by anyone, especially us. That's when God will do things that will scare them right back to the caucasus mountains bringing destruction to those who've touched, bruised, and abused the Apple of His eye. Speak life into your angel spirit, don’t entertain the demon seed that's trying to kill you, and the rest of Earth's indigenous people. You have much authority, use it. Elohim. 9/23/2021

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selenes-sun · 4 years

Text

Two//

Platonic! Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

This was inspired by the song “Two” By Sleeping At Last which is linked here!

Masterlist

A/N: For my first Draco fic I thought I would write something Angsty so here you go! I hope you enjoy it because this song made me really emotional and it inspired me to write this equally emotional fic. Also this is my first song fic so I really hope I did this right😅! Requests are open! :D (gif not mine)

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When I first saw you, you were surrounded by all of your friends, you looked so happy. You were smiling at something your friend was telling you. You seemed like you had everything you needed and more.

I didn’t know you yet but I was happy for you. I was happy that you found the happiness you needed.

The second time I saw you, you were alone. I went up to you because you looked upset, and I wanted to make you feel better. Although you did push me away.

But I saw you again. You were with your friends again and you were laughing. To the stranger’s eye, it’ll look like you were genuinely happy, but the more I looked at you, I could see how fake it was.

Sweetheart, you look a little tired

When did you last eat?

I kept catching you when you were alone and you always looked upset. I tried talking to you every time, but you were always very closed off. Then one day, I finally broke through your wall. You started talking and I just sat there and listened.

I could tell that you appreciated the company. We would always meet up at the strangest times, but I did it for you. I never cared if it was the middle of the night or the crack of dawn. I was always there for you.

It was finally summertime. We kept meeting up. Then one day I saw a bruise on your arm, I knew that probably wasn’t the only place you had them but I didn’t comment or pry because I knew it was a touchy subject. One thing I did do was offer you to stay at my house.

At first, you refused, said you had to get back home, but I insisted and you reluctantly agreed. You stayed at my house for a few days and then, out of nowhere, you left. You didn’t leave anything but I didn’t mind, as long as you were ok.

Come in and make yourself right at home

Stay as long as you need

I finally asked you, I didn’t mean to pry but you answered me. I sat there and listened like I always did. I didn’t speak, because I knew you knew me as put together. Because I was always by your side.

I offered to help you in any way possible. I was your emotional support after all. But I also helped you with other things. I would sacrifice myself for you. But you didn’t need to know that. Because I was always listening and never speaking.

Tell me, is something wrong?

If something's wrong, you can count on me

You know I'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat

There were things that you still wouldn’t tell me. But I did the best I could to help you with everything else. I would take you out, maybe to buy necessities, because no one would do it with you. Maybe it was paying for meals, although you always insisted to pay, I would refuse.

I did it so you knew that everyone in the world was different. That not everybody was using you, that they genuinely cared. I did it to take the weight off your shoulders, although this added weight to mine, I would never tell you that because I was protecting you.

It's okay if you can't find the words

Let me take your coat

And this weight off of your shoulders

I would never tell you, but I would kill for you, or maybe I’d make peace with said person. I did it because I loved you. You didn’t see me as anything more than a best friend, a sibling perhaps. But it didn’t matter, as long as you were happy.

I loved you but I would never tell you because that’s not what you needed at the moment. I did it because I wanted to show you that I wasn’t getting anything out of this friendship.

Like a force to be reckoned with

A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss

I will love you with every single thing I have

Like a tidal wave, I'll make a mess

Or calm waters, if that serves you best

I will love you without any strings attached

Sometimes you would come to me and you would start crying. I thought you were very strong for doing that because showing emotion was good. I was always there to comfort you. I knew that if I could take your place I would, with no regrets.

It's okay if you can't catch your breath

You can take the oxygen straight out of my own chest

The more I took your walls down, the more I would build mine up because you didn’t need to know about my problems. I wanted to be there for you, not for me. I didn’t need to put more weight on your shoulders with my life.

I know exactly how the rule goes

Put my mask on first

No, I don't want to talk about myself

Tell me where it hurts

The more I was around you, the happier I saw you. Except for this time you looked genuinely happy. I wanted to build you up until you felt good about yourself. Until you could find your happiness with others and not just me.

Maybe when you were ok I would find that happiness for myself. But not until I was sure.

I just want to build you up, build you up

'Til you're good as new

And maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself too

I tried looking back at all the memories. At all the moments that we shared together. I also tried recalling all the times I saw you and shifted through my memories, hoping to see when you started feeling this way.

After the war was when you met Astoria. I wanted to love you, to hold your hand and make new memories with you. But everyone could clearly tell that you loved her. I saw the way you looked at her and I hoped that one day I could find someone to look at me the same way.

I don't even know where to start

Already tired of trying to recall when it all fell apart

I just want to love you, to love you, to love you well

I just want to learn how, somehow, to be loved myself

I stood by your side as every year passed. I watched you fall in love and propose to her years later. When Astoria offered to make me a bridesmaid I was happy to accept because she truly was kind and caring enough. I knew that she was the right person for you.

I wanted to love you as something more. Someone might’ve beat me to it but as long as you were happy, I was too. I knew that I was lucky, to find you and be able to heal you enough so you could find love yourself.

When you asked me to give a speech at your wedding I was filled with honor. I was glad that you asked me because it proved how important I was to you.

Like a force to be reckoned with

A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss

I will love you without any strings attached

And what a privilege it is to love

A great honor to hold you up

“Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take Astoria Charlotte Greengrass as your wife? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect her, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?”

Like a force to be reckoned with

A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss

I will love you with every single thing I have

“I do.”

Like a tidal wave, I'll make a mess

Or calm waters if that serves you best

“And do you, Astoria Charlotte Greengrass, take Draco Lucius Malfoy as your husband? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?”

I will love you without any strings attached

“I do,”

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride,” Draco pulled Astoria in for a kiss and I was by your side, smiling. It was a sad watery smile but I played it off as a smile of pure joy.

I was happy for you and I hope you knew that. I was there from the beginning and I was happy that I found you on time. I was happy that I was there through it all, through your times of happiness and through your times of sadness.

Standing here today, was the best feeling, because I knew I did a good job in protecting you. That was my only prize in our friendship, seeing you happy with everyone, but especially yourself.

At the reception, I saw you laughing and dancing, having the time of your life. Then it was finally time for speeches. I got up from my seat and grabbed the microphone.

“I wanted to congratulate you because both of you look so happy together. I can’t wait to see the many happy years that will come into your marriage. I wanted to thank you Draco for being there for me and you Astoria, for being there for him. I love the both of you so much and I’m glad to be able to now call you my sister Astoria.”

I will love you without a single string attached

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If you want to be added to my tag list just drop me an ask and ill be glad to add you!

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#Draco Malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy x you #Draco Malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x astoria greengrass #Draco Malfoy #astoria greengrass #Angst #harry potter imagine #Harry Potter fic #hp fic #Reader insert #song fic #selenes-sun

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restlessmaknae · 4 years

Text

youth is never coming back

Every year, on 13th June, he went to the graveyard. To remember. To forget. To say thank you. To regret. To let the tears fall and laugh with them.

♦ Characters: OT7 (Jin-focused)

♦ Genre: HYYH-based storyline, angst, drama

♦ Words: 8k

♦ Warning: mentions of phobias, mental disorders, suicide, physical abuse and major character deaths

PROLOGUE

It was 13th June.

Today − just like every year after I’ve turned 12 – I accompanied my grandfather who went to the cemetery to put some flowers on six particular graves. He slowly crouched down, accumulated all the fallen leaves and cleared the surface of each and every grave. Then, for long minutes, his eyes were staring far ahead and filled with bittersweet nostalgia. It seemed that something was eating him up; he was quietly struggling, clutching onto his chest, gasping for air and murmuring to himself.

When I first saw him, I thought that he was having an episode – it wouldn’t have been a surprise after all. But the moment I tapped him on the shoulder, he turned around to look at me and when our eyes met, I saw tiny teardrops shining in his eyes like beautiful sea pearls. He was definitely one of the most frightened creatures I have ever seen in my life. To my astonishment, he shrugged my help right away. He was stuttering, searching for the right words to say while I tried my best to help him but he didn’t let me – not even once.

As years went by, I became quite hesitant when I noticed that 13th June was just in a few days’ time. I asked my parents why I should go with him when I don’t even know the loved ones he’s visiting and they merely said the following:

“Your grandfather has a very tragic and sorrowful past. Since we can’t always give him a ride to the graveyard, at least you should be there for him. Once you will be old enough, I’m sure he would tell you what you need to know.”

That was it. Grandfather was always pretty reserved and secretive but until my first visit with him to the scary graveyard, I didn’t think much of it. After that, he became the definition of mystery for me. I knew that he had such a painful youth that everybody thought that it was a miracle that he was still alive; not hunted by ghosts and developing a mental illness.

It’s pretty weird to think of it that you have a grandfather whom people like to talk about and you still don’t know anything about him. Or at least, not those things that you are most curious about.

However, this year, it all became clear and I wished I hadn’t got all the answers this time. After his confession, several times I caught myself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying his memories in my mind. I frantically flinched whenever I heard screeching sounds of tyres or someone lit up a cigarette around me. I was never the same person and I couldn’t look at him the way I did before. I even understood why he said that youth is never coming back whenever I had to face obstacles.

Because he knew it; he knew that I could get over them because my problem was never as serious as his. Or his friends’. My teenage years were never as devastating and definite as his. And luckily, I was never in his shoes and could never feel the way he did. Now looking back, I know I should have been a happier person, I should have respected my friends more and I should have loved my family even more. I should have said thank you and sorry and I should have said I love you as well.

Why? It’s simple. Grandfather thought me that you never know when things would start falling apart and you never know when you see the faces of your friends for the last time. You could never be prepared for when they will be gone. And not just figuratively but really.

Since you never know when they will die.

THE STORY OF LILIES

The day had come.

My ordinary school day went by in its usual pace and I never allowed myself to wander off and start worrying about my afternoon visit to the graveyard. It was kind of terrifying to walk by hundreds of graves and I swear that I even heard whispers once. Maybe it was just another family member who didn’t have the chance to say goodbye to the loved one who had died. But it was still scary and small wonder why it wasn’t a favourite place of an 18-year-old high school student.

Anyway, it was still better than neglecting grandfather who seriously needed company and a helping hand after granny had died when I was 12. Yes, that was also the time when I became his partner for his graveyard trips on 13th June.

As I was leaving after my last class and unintentionally slammed the entrance door in somebody’s face, I noticed a familiar figure sitting on a newly painted bench in the park which was in front of our school.

“Grandpa!” I exclaimed as I was approaching him and saw the lilies in his hands. It was always those lilies; he bought them every single time we went to those graves and there was always six of them. Six beautiful but stern piles of lilies.

“Nari!” A genuine smile was forming on his lips when he heard my fairly childish voice and began to stand up. I walked faster in order to help him and gave him a tight hug when we succeeded.

He was old, I was aware of that. 72 years could be considered quite old but he wasn’t old because of his silver-grey hair or bad eye-sight. Everybody knew why he was like that; because of all those horrifying things that happened to him when he was young. Some people were particularly surprised that he could make it to 72 years; some didn’t even expect him to survive after what had happened back then. And what I knew nothing about.

“How was school today?” He whispered while I was still hugging him and I was only able to withdraw when I had to answer. I suppose a frown was evident on my face.

“Tiring as usual,” I rolled my eyes in annoyance because what else could I say? School was tiring and boring as always. Nothing interesting ever happened there. Not like I wanted my life to be fast-paced but it wasn’t the least interesting.

“You should cherish these years as well. Once you will be old like me, you will regard this time of your life as the best one.” He stated absent-mindedly and I had this feeling again that he was referring to his own youth.

“I know, grandpa. But it’s hard…” I whined like a toddler and let out an irritated grumble.

“It is.” He nodded in agreement and his words were all part of his little secret; the one that only he knew. Maybe I wasn’t still old enough to know the truth.

We slowly fell into a comfortable silence. We didn’t even talk for the next 25 minutes except me asking him where we should sit on the bus. When we finally arrived at the graveyard, I started fidgeting anxiously because I exactly knew what was following. The same old sorrowful routine which I knew step by step.

As we were on our way to those particular graves, the almost touchable proximity to the dead made my heart beat in bewilderment. This whole mysterious, stern and terrifying atmosphere was lingering around us; the thought that one day I would be here as well always seemed to cross my mind. I couldn’t help nibbling my lips.

We were getting closer and closer and my heart was beating faster and faster. The moment we reached the first grave, grandfather turned to face me and said:

“Would you mind holding these for me?” He asked with a broken smile and looked down at his pale hands. He was referring to those six lilies which he was holding firmly.

“Not at all.” I mustered and grabbed the handful of flowers. I didn’t get it. Why did it always have to be those lilies? Why couldn’t it be roses or baby’s breath? Why couldn’t it be something that wasn’t connected to me?

He didn’t say more, so I didn’t know what to do. Should I let him struggle alone and stand a little bit further away – like always? Or would he need the flowers in the next minute?

“Grandpa…” I whispered hesitantly.

‘You can stay.”

The sudden permission struck me like lighting. I wasn’t prepared for him allowing me to stay. My blood ran cold.

I opened my mouth to say something but he had already averted his eyes to the grave when I was finally able to speak. Suddenly, he tucked his hands into his pockets and got out some polaroids. Judging from how torn they looked, they could be pretty old. He looked down at them and a minute of silence followed.

I didn’t even dare to breathe, the seconds seemed so unbreakable. I could only hear the sound of my crazily beating heart and screeching tyres from the distance. I was shivering.

Then, he chose one polaroid and held it in front of his face, examining it again and again. He didn’t seem nervous or scared, he was perfectly in control of his emotions. He was standing there – stern and brave – like a statue. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded strained.

“Kim Taehyung, my dear friend,” he cleared his throat and stopped after saying the name out loud. I only knew about this boy because he was once one of grandfather’s friends but I was never told whether he was still alive or already died. Well, obviously, I knew the answer by now.

“You were always a kid to me; a talkative, bubbly kid. I thought that you always saw the bright side of life and enjoyed joking around and teasing others. Your smile was something that made our days better. Your laugh was something that made us laugh as well. Maybe you couldn’t recognise it but you were the centre of the wheel.”

Grandfather’s words were lovely and heart-warming. My shoulders loosened as I started listening to him and even though the sadness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, his words soothed my nerves a little.

“Soon I had to realise that this was just the surface,” he croaked and my heart almost missed a beat. “There’s no denying that you were the one who had to suffer the most. We were aware of the fact that your frequently drunk father beat you, your mom and your sister. We knew about your bruises that you tried to cover with your long-sleeved shirt and baggy pants yet they couldn’t cover them all. That’s how I recognised it first and alarmed the others but you didn’t let us help you. You said that you would try to find a way to make things right. But after the day when he beat your mom to death, you couldn’t take your anger back.” He continued with shaky voice and I was at the verge of fainting, sternly holding onto those lilies and trying to pacify my crazily beating heart. No, that can’t be. He couldn’t have done that.

“Everyone thinks that you were the motive of the whole butterfly effect; of us falling one by one. But even if it’s true, you need to know that we never blamed you. You had to do what was right; you had to save your sister and even yourself. It was self-defence and you didn’t mean to take your father’s life. We knew. But we also knew that you could go to jail because there was no evidence and maybe that was why you decided to end your own life. You were always a good friend, a brother almost and we thought that we could easily read your mind. However, on that day, when you climbed up on that platform, we didn’t have the slightest idea that you would do so. That you would jump off and leave us. You couldn’t see but we tried to save you – at least 5 of us. We jumped into the sea, one after another, trying to swim to the area you had landed but when we finally found you, your heart had already stopped beating. You can’t even imagine how long we tried to cherish the thought that you weren’t dead and there was still hope. We tried to resuscitate you but there was no response. You were the first to leave us.”

My nerves were frazzled, I could barely breathe. I had never once imagined Kim Taehyung committing suicide because of his father. I had never once imagined any of grandfather’s friends ending their own lives. I couldn’t even muster a single thing as I started to puzzle up his words.

“Thank you for being a resilient fighter and caring brother! Your sister had the chance to live a full, happy life thanks to you. She now has children and even grandchildren but my favourite one is her first-born son…” He confessed coyly, his cheeks tinted pink. He looked down at the photo and then up again. A pearl-like teardrop was already shining in his eyes when he continued. “His name is Taehyung.”

I had to look away in order not to start weeping. Even if I didn’t have the chance to meet him, I was sure that he was such a lovable person. I already respected him with all my heart as he sacrificed so much because of his family.

“Thank you for being with us, Kim Taehyung,” he whispered, silently crouching down and putting the photo on his grave accompanied by one pile of lilies. Then, he bowed and my heart ached for him. I helped him to get up and we moved onto the next grave. There, he hold onto another picture and started talking – with only a mysterious half-smile just like before.

“Park Jimin, my dear friend,” he pondered and got his grip together. “You were always a delighted, open-minded and positive person. You didn’t let any day pass by without your trademark eye-smile appearing on your face. You gave in so easily and joined us in whatever stupid thing we wanted to do. You were always radiant. However, as they say, you can fall the hardest from the top of the world. And that day−“he trailed off and paced out for a moment or so. “That day literally broke you.”

I peered over grandfather’s shoulder to look at the next polaroid. All I could see was a charming, black-haired boy at around the age of 18. He looked beaming and satisfied like nothing on Earth could bother him. There was actually no boy like him nowadays; everyone was either busy and stressed or greedy and selfish. He must have been a lovely person to be around.

“Taehyung’s death affected all of us but you were the one who couldn’t take the pain. It was mostly because of shame. Because you couldn’t save him and couldn’t even intend to save him. You had aquaphobia from a very young age and seeing him jumping into the water made you more terrified than ever. You had a constant fear of water and when we all jumped in to save him, you were standing there, frozen and absolutely devastated. I saw the commitment in your eyes when we pulled Taehyung to the surface but you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t swim and it drove you crazy. You were screaming and walking up and down on the harbour like a lunatic, tears constantly sliding down your cheeks. I could see that there was hope shining in your eyes when we managed to get him to you. You didn’t know then that he was already dead, just when you tried to listen to his heartbeat. You couldn’t hear anything. Anything at all,” he said, his voice barely audible. There was a moment or so when he suddenly stopped and I thought that he would start crying but he didn’t. He stayed strong, firmly holding onto the picture like it could bring Jimin back. I was the one who was already on the edge of tears.

“After that, there was no turning back. You were lost in the maze of confusion, shame and regret,” he shook his head and his voice suddenly became so raspy. “When I heard the news, I couldn’t believe it. You left us, you ended your life in the same way Taehyung did. You drown yourself in your bathtub. I don’t know if it was because you thought that you would do justice to his memory or because you wanted to overcome your fear. Whatever your reason was, I just want you to know that you shouldn’t have blamed yourself. It wasn’t your mistake, Taehyung wouldn’t have blamed you. He also wouldn’t have wanted you to follow him,” he continued and my world suddenly became numb. How was that possible that such wonderful people decided to end their own lives? Just by thinking about it, my heart broke into tiny little pieces. The world was all wrong.

“Thank you for being a loyal friend and a sunshine in everybody’s life! Boyeon’s also doing fine but she couldn’t fall in love with anyone else. Your bond must have been too strong to let her fall for any other man. She still has that angle-like smile – like you called it – but it’s slightly broken now. As she loved you till the end, she still does,” he crouched down, put the polaroid and another lily on the grave and stood up again. I had no idea who Boyeon was but I puzzled up his words and assumed that she was Jimin’s love. I couldn’t even imagine her pain; loving someone and waking up one day to the thought that this someone was already in another world. “Thank you for being with us, Park Jimin,” he bowed slowly and respectfully, his eyes full of affection and concern. Every of his words were sincere yet heart-wrenching and I couldn’t be prepared for what was following.

“Jeon Jungkook, my dear friend,” we moved onto the next grade and grandfather looked at another torn picture. It showed a young boy with a cheeky smile and the most wonderful pitch-black eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. His childish features couldn’t hide the fact that he was younger than his other two friends but he was also so tall compared to another guy who was beside him. I soon realised that the one who slanged his arms around the boy’s shoulder was actually grandpa. Of course, in a younger version, with his fluffy chestnut-brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes. They looked so happy, it hurt to look at that scene.

“You were always a bit shy and more introverted than the others but we still liked you like that. We somehow managed to break down your walls and it turned out that you were actually quite amusing. You even teased your hyungs but never went too far. You always helped me when I wanted to cook something and you were always there when any of us needed company. You were truly an amazing friend,” he whispered with awe and looked up at the grave. It must have been hard for him, seeing that this was the only thing that Jungkook had left off. I felt the same when grandma died; I tried to cling onto the beautiful memories, the touch of her beloved books, the scent of her pillow but it eventually faded away. Memories became shorter and more distant, her scent was faint and her books were given away for charity.

“I never thought that you would fall apart like that. You were always the one who were good at everything and couldn’t even hurt anyone. Of course, you had enemies because they were jealous of you but you always fought back. Yet, going home after Jimin’s funeral, you let them hurt you. They beaten you up, they kicked you, they punched you in the face and you didn’t fight back. Not even once. When they realised it as well, they abandoned you in an alleyway and God knows how long did you stay there. You probably wanted to go home when you crossed a road but the traffic light was red. The driver of the car didn’t notice you in time and hit you. Even the ambulance couldn’t save you. When they arrived, you had already died,” his voice shook a little as he said ‘died’ out loud. I felt like my heart was in the abyss of sorrow; it gripped me from the very first word and didn’t let me go. I was shivering and my mind was full of crazily scattered imaginations. Pain was slowly engulfing my heart and encaging my thoughts. I gulped.

“Thank you for letting us see your beautiful soul! You were the most unselfish friend we’ve ever had. It’s cruel of this world to take you away from us because unlike Taehyung or Jimin, you didn’t want to end your life. You just wanted to forget about the pain. I hope, wherever you are now, you can’t feel pain. I hope you smile there like you always did and watch out for me,” he suddenly looked up at the sky, his eyes wandering, looking for Jungkook’s place among the invisible stars. His lips were slowly dissolving into a bittersweet smile. “Thank you for being with us, Jeon Jungkook,” he croaked and looked down at his own hands which were holding the polaroid tightly. He let out a sorrowful sigh. His hands were slightly shaky when he reached out to me, waiting for another pile of lily. I handed it to him but my heart broke when our eyes met. The usual affectionate glint in his eyes was gone; it was replaced by grief. I had never seen him so broken.

When he put the flower and the polaroid on the grave, he waited a minute before he stood up. I saw as he tried to wipe away his tears with his thumbs. I knew it was still not the end of our trip but I didn’t assume that he would hold back his tears for so long. Maybe it was because he rather accepted his friends’ decisions than the twists of fate.

Then, he reached out to another polaroid and started talking again.

“Min Yoongi, my dear friend,” he let out a sigh and cleared his throat before he continued. “You had a lot of different sides but despite being grumpy in the mornings, you know that even the younger ones really liked you. You were exceptionally hard-working and when you put your mind to something, you could always succeed. You were also quite amusing and made us laugh several times. The kids liked to tease you about being lazy but you would never mind their bickering. You would never admit it but deep in your heart, you really cared about all of us. You were the first to jump into the water after Taehyung committed suicide and the first to break down into tears when you heard the news of Jimin’s death. But as you always said, your biggest fear consumed you in the end,” he drew another heavy sigh and shifted his gaze away.

I respected him with all my heart; how he could talk about such sorrowful things was absolutely honourable. He didn’t hide anything, his soul was completely bare yet full of wounds. He was almost like a moon flower; it bloomed in the dazzling moonlight until its worst enemy approached the flower. Like the sunlight for the moon flower, memories were grandfather’s toughest opponents. As soon as the sun came up, as soon as memories began to tear him apart, he closed. I hope I could help him this time if he wanted to close again.

“You had pyromania but you could control it well, even experts didn’t believe in your progress after you had showed signs when you were young,” he slowly shifted his attention back to the grave, his eyes full of the most beautiful shining stars of dismay. “Your parents always cared about you but you became distant with them and even moved out when you had turned 20. So, they stated that it was because of us; we were the ones who motivated you to control your urges. You didn’t even start a fire when you were with us, just sometimes played with the lighter but nothing serious. However, after the death of three of our friends, you couldn’t take it back. When you were around us, you didn’t show any sign of fear but at home, you probably struggled a lot because in the end, that’s how you ended your own life. By burning up your room and yourself. Doctors said that when you started the fire, you just wanted to relieve tension and never actually thought that you would die because that’s how addicts think,” he trailed off and gulped. His lips were quivering. “It didn’t help to wash our pain away,” he stammered with subtle voice and that was the moment when he didn’t want to hide his tears anymore. He lifted his head up, his eyes shining with proud teardrops, slowly spilling down his cheeks.

“Thank you for always caring about us and overcoming your fear when you were with us! You were such a strong and brave person because you were able to say no to your urges and lead a healthier life. You taught us how to fight against our enemies, even if it’s our own mind who we fight against. There are so many things that we could learn from you and you had a huge influence on the younger ones even if you wouldn’t call it that,” he said and stopped for a moment. “Thank you for being with us, Min Yoongi,” he bowed respectfully, almost in a 90-degree angle.

Soon, the first teardrop landed on the surface of the grave. He wasn’t crying helplessly like a starving person craving for food; he was merely sobbing silently like he didn’t even want to break the peaceful silence. I also tried not to bother him but I couldn’t take my tears back. The more I played his memories in my head, the more I wanted to cry. I was wretched, wounded and enraged at the same time. How could this world be so cruel? How could fate write such endings for these boys? It didn’t seem right. The world suddenly became a big, cruel mess for me.

Grandfather put down the picture and the lily on the grave without any word. I tried to wipe away my tears but to no avail. As much as I wanted to run away and cry until I dozed off, I also wanted to stay beside him until the end. I still had some questions to ask and I still believed that I could only do justice to grandfather’s friends if I listened to all of their stories.

“Jung Hoseok, my dear friend,” he stepped to another grave and got out another polaroid from his pocket. It was torn as well but the smile on the boy’s face was so radiant that I couldn’t see anything, expect his joyful grin. He was the definition of that so-called light, someone whose smile was definitely sincere. “You were always such an energetic, light-hearted person, a beaming light in the darkest times. You never really cared whether you looked ridiculous until you could make someone smile with your behaviour. You smiled a lot and laughed a lot. When we were down, you were the one who pulled us through the hardships and showed us that there are always happier times waiting for us. You were caring, sincere and loyal, a truly amazing friend. I’m sorry that we couldn’t help you,” he suddenly admitted and his voice sounded so weary and extremely painful. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find a way to help your insomnia.”

I gasped for air; I felt like the words triggered so many emotions at once that the atmosphere became unbearably suffocating. I found it even harder to breathe as he continued.

“You had to take pills for your disorder and it helped at first. You said that you still found it hard to sleep at nights, mostly because of pressure to do well on your exams but you slept well when you could. We were relieved. It never affected our friendship since you controlled it well like Yoongi did but we were still worried about you. Your smiles were the only ones that could set us at ease. However, the more of our friends died, the more you couldn’t sleep. The pain was even unbearable when you were awake, so I can’t even imagine how much you could have struggled because you weren’t able to sleep. You mentioned that the others were hunting you in your dreams when you finally fell asleep and it scarred you to death. You didn’t even think it through, you just took more and more of those pills and it helped to release some of the pain. One day, you went too far and overdosed yourself. I wish it hadn’t happened like that. You, like Yoongi, probably didn’t know what you did, just wanted to get away from the pain. I wish we had done more but we couldn’t,” he shook his head in disbelief and went silent for some seconds. My tears kept sliding down but I didn’t mind. Sometimes tears could say more than words; sometimes it was the only way to show how we really felt.

“Thank you for being a warm-hearted, considerate and cheerful friend! Thank you for being our guiding light in the darkest times and showing us that life is beautiful even if obstacles occur. Thank you for making us smile when even you weren’t in the mood to smile. You were the one who we could lean on and you always put others’ happiness before yours. You were the source of light and joy in our lives. Without you, our days would have been so much harder,” grandfather sobbed and looked more broken than ever. “Thank you for being with us, Jung Hoseok,” he cried out in pain and dropped to the grave.

I immediately hurried to him, observing if his condition had anything to do with his poor health but it didn’t seem so. When I gently patted his back, he turned to face me and I didn’t even know how to phrase the expression on his face. You know, when you see a sun going down and you have this ambivalent feeling, that odd combination of happiness and sadness. Looking at the sunset, you are aware that something is over and something is still on the way. Maybe that’s how I could portray him; he was terribly hurt and somewhat gloriously calm at the same time.

“Grandfather−“ I started but was cut off by him.

“It’s okay. I-I will just need some minutes to re-arrange my thoughts,” he muttered and I obligated, still in the state of shock. I didn’t even intend to stop my tears from falling because I didn’t want to. All I wanted to do was to let it all out and clear my mind. I was terrified and his memories were haunting me whenever my eyes were slipping shut. There’s no doubt that I believed him, I believed every of his words but I still couldn’t believe the fact that life could be so cruel to them. Having 6 friends is an amazing gift but losing all of them is a horrible curse. How would anyone expect you to move on and forget the pain? I’m not at all surprised that grandfather had episodes several times and even spent years at a mental institute. Now it was all clear why.

Some moments later, he got up again and put the photo with the lily on the grave. He didn’t hesitate before he took a step forward to the last grave. He let out a sigh. He looked at a new photo which showed a laughing guy sitting on the floor, half of his face covered by his hoodie.

“Kim Namjoon, my dear friend,” his voice came out hoarse as he started to speak. “You were always like the leader of the team as you took care of each of us. You liked to tease us when we made a mistake but never forgot to support us whenever we needed encouragement. I guess you put a good balance between strictness and affection. Even if the younger ones liked to make fun of you and your hilarious dance moves, you couldn’t really mind. You liked to make us laugh and know that everything’s going well,” he stopped and pursed his lips a little. My heart always melted a bit when I heard the beginning description of grandfather’s friends but immediately became icy when he continued. The case of Namjoon was no exception.

“You were an orphan; your parents adopted you when you were only 6 years old. You spent your whole life at an orphanage and began to work in the hope of renting a flat for yourself. You worked at a gas station, helping customers but people looked down on you, especially after hearing those rumours about us. Some even stated that Jungkook was hit by either you or me and some said that we encouraged others to commit suicide. The worst was that they began to think that we would follow them, that we would also commit suicide and almost waited for us to do so. They feared you at the orphanage and you started to fear yourself as well. I remember having a talk with you one day about the future. You said that I needed to survive, no matter what. To prove them wrong. I had no idea then that you said that because you wanted to end your own life,” he shook his head in disbelief and his whole body was trembling.

Even though sunshine was filling up the afternoon silence of the graveyard, everything was grey for me. I didn’t feel warmth, I didn’t feel happiness, I only felt pain and sorrow. I couldn’t imagine that I would ever commit suicide but under such circumstances, I quite understood why these boys did. Not only did they have to wake up each day for the absence of their friends but they also had to bear the gossip and people around them. Not only did the world abandon them but also people who should have helped. What kind of wicked game was it?

“One day, you were left alone working at the gas station and no customers were in sight for a longer period. So you casually lit up a cigarette, then throw it onto the ground and let the flames unite with fuel. According to the CCTV cameras, you perfectly planned it because there wasn’t any sign of fear or regret on your face. By the time the neighbours noticed the fire, the gas station had already exploded. The firefighters could put off the fire but they couldn’t save you. You left me without saying goodbye, just asking me to survive,” his voice shook a little as the last words left his mouth. Tears were streaming down his face, slowly and augustly. He still remained invincible, he still stood there like a wonderful state of art.

“Thank you for being the glue within our friends. Without you, we might have fallen apart but because you were always there, we maintained our relationship despite any arguments and the growing tension as our friends were leaving. Thank you for always encouraging us to keep going and helping us to find our ways. We needed a compass like you to know where our map is leading us. Even though you left us, left me, your last message was important and I never forgot what you said,” he sniffled as he put the photo and the last pile of lily on the grave. He remained silent for a minute and didn’t even budge a bit. “Thank you for being with us, Kim Namjoon,” he broke down into tears and heavy sobs again as he said goodbye to his last friend.

He crouched down, burying his face in his hands while he let out all those tears and pain which he held back during the previous year. Even if he didn’t make noise, even if he didn’t scream violently or yelling at those graves, it was still extremely difficult to look at him. He was hurt, he was broken and he was all alone. His friends left him and nobody could feel the way he did. Nobody could understand him as well as they would have done if they hadn’t died. He was struggling, he was dying every single second, yearning after his friends.

“You all left me by 13th June and I couldn’t do anything but suffer. I missed you and it hurt so much. The pain was unbearable but every time I thought I would give up, I remembered what Namjoon had said and lifted my head up. Because people needed to know what kind of friends I had. What beautiful and brave friends accompanied me throughout my younger years. You were my youth and the moment I was left alone, it was all gone. I know that you are never coming back again,” he cried out in pain and didn’t move for the next 30 minutes.

Chaos erupted in my head as I also fell onto the ground. I cried so hard when I remembered for what grandfather had always said to me. It all made sense now.

Youth is never coming back.

EPILOGUE

“Grandpa?” I asked hesitantly as we were sitting on the bus, heading back to my parents’ house. It was, I believe, almost half an hour after we had both let out all our emotions.

“Yes, Nari-ah?” he looked at me curiously, furrowing his eyebrows in question. His eyes were still a little bit teary and swollen but so were mine. I don’t remember crying so hard for so long all my life before. I must have looked scary and terrible but I didn’t mind.

“I have some questions,” I stated confidently but the reluctance in my voice didn’t go unnoticed. I didn’t know whether or not I had the permission to ask questions but I was undoubtedly curious. “Would you mind answering them?”

“I would be surprised if you didn’t have questions,” he responded and his face slowly dissolved into an affectionate smile. “Of course I wouldn’t mind answering them. Go ahead!” he encouraged me and even pressed my hand gently which he was holding for some minutes now. We didn’t talk after we had left the graveyard but grandfather’s hand immediately found mine. His touch soothed my nerves a little and I guess he wasn’t the only one who needed reassurance.

“Did you make those polaroids?” I started, still trying to erase all those delighted faces from my memory. It hurt so much. Knowing how little did the world need to push them off the cliff. One moment, they were together, laughing freely and teasing each other and in the next minute, it was all falling apart. They were gone, one by one, until grandfather was left alone, in the abyss of endless sorrow.

“I’ve made them myself,” he nodded slowly and pondered over for a thought. “I got a camera from my parents when I turned 18 and I always tried to capture our happiest moments. As I was rummaging through a cupboard last week, I found these polaroids and thought about giving them to the boys,” he continued absent-mindedly and the fact that he still called his friends ‘the boys’ made my heart ache. He was right, they were still boys when they left him, but it was heart-wrenching to think about it.

“Okay, then,” I gulped and mustered all my courage. “Who was Boyeon? Was she Jimin’s love?” I inquired and a slight twinkle appeared in his chocolate-brown eyes.

“Ah, yes, I forgot that you don’t know her,” he massaged his temple nervously as he realised that I had never even heard of Boyeon. It wasn’t a surprise since there was a big chapter of grandfather’s life that I was never permitted to read. Yet, now that he shared it with me, maybe he could also answer some of my questions. “Yes, indeed she was. But I guess they were more than lovers, they were almost soulmates. Their bond was so strong and despite Jimin suffering after Taehyung’s death and pushing her away, Boyeon never once thought of leaving him. They met a year before Jimin died and we were so happy they found each other. Boyeon was a truly wonderful young lady; smiley, optimistic, cheerful, childish and a little bit cocky. We ate together several times as she always cooked meals for us and she actually liked spending time with the 7 of us,” he continued and a kind of bittersweet nostalgia seemed to have taken hold of him. He was smiling sheepishly, simply out of the sudden joy that the memories triggered.

“How is she doing now?”

“Well,” he rubbed his chin, probably wondering how he should phrase what he wanted to say. “I had a phone call from her last week and she said that she was doing just fine. But if you want to know, she could never fall in love with another man after Jimin had died. She was beautiful and captivating indeed, lots of boys wanted to approach her but I guess she never felt the way with them than the way she did when she was with Jimin. I believe that’s what they call ever-lasting love,” he said absent-mindedly and turned to face me again. I think it was obvious that was only my second question and not the last.

“How did you know about how your friends died? I mean, in Jungkook’s case, you wasn’t there when those guys attacked him,” I gestured intensely as I tried to let him know what I didn’t get. His narration was so real, like he saw everything with his own eyes but it was impossible.

“Well, in Jungkook’s case, I only know about this particular detail because after they had filed a police report about the accident, those boys also admitted what they had done. They felt shameful because he died after they had beaten him up, so they wanted to report themselves. As for Jimin, her mother was the one who found him in the bathtub and every sign and the doctors’ examinations implied that he had drown himself. It was the same with Yoongi and Hoseok; the investigations showed that their disorders were the cause of their death. And for Namjoon, it was the CCTV that revealed everything,” he looked out of the window while he answered but I couldn’t blame him for it. It must have been so difficult for him, even if it happened decades ago. Even if I was only listening to the boys’ stories and not experiencing it, I was still in the state of shock and I assumed that I would be for a long time.

It was maybe the most sensitive topic which I was about to broach but I couldn’t hold it back anymore. It was time for me to ask about him.

“And what happened to you? That’s why you were at the mental institute, right?” I looked straight into his eyes which suddenly widened.

“How do you know about that?” he wrinkled his nose nervously but his tone wasn’t abusive, just merely curious.

“Grandma told me once,” I admitted with a sheepish smile but he didn’t seem to mind it. I was always a bit nosy and when I once freaked out about grandfather’s mysterious atmosphere, she shared this little detail with me. It was not too long before she died and I guess it’s one of the reasons why I would have never wanted to ask about his youth.

“And your grandmother also told you that she was a nurse at that mental institute and that’s how we met?” he glanced at me but I couldn’t even muster a single word. My jaw dropped and my heart missed a beat. I mean, I knew that grandmother was a doctor but she was working at a hospital as far as I could remember. “Before she became a doctor at the Yangji Hospital, she was working with me and other patients at the institute. I couldn’t make sensible decisions then, so my parents got me out of university and decided that it would be the best if I stayed at a mental institute. I stayed there for 6 years. Your grandmother was my consultant and helped me through all those dark years,” he smiled thankfully and still didn’t let go of my hands. 6 years. 6 friends. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

I didn’t want to ask more about his years at the institute because it must have been a hell for him. I didn’t want to dig too deep and there was still a lot of time for us to talk about it or at least I hoped so. However, this confession explained why grandmother and grandfather’s relationship was so strong and admirable. They were always close and didn’t even raise their voices during any kind of argument. They were patient and considerate towards each other. As far as I could remember, they had a long and happy marriage.

“And why do you always carry lilies with you?” I asked as my last question but it piqued my curiosity from the start. “This has something to do with the fact that my name means lily?” I glanced at him shyly. My name was Nari which meant ‘lily’ in Korean and knowing that everything had a meaning in grandfather’s life, I was suspicious about the flower as well.

“Well, you know people always bring lilies to the loved one’s graves. But do you know why?” I just shook my head. I had no idea. “They say that it symbolizes that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death. This is also why your name means innocence and purity. I just wanted to protect you from all those terrible things that my friends received by suggesting this name to your parents and they somehow accepted. I hope you don’t mind,” he coyly scratched the back of his neck and looked at me, his eyes full of fear. Love sprung through my veins and I felt my heart melting after his affectionate words.

“No, I don’t mind. Actually, I love it,” I bobbed my head thankfully and gave him a thankful gaze. He smiled back at me and when we got off the bus, we still didn’t let go of each other’s hands. He needed me just as much as I needed him. He shared my secret with him and so I shared my youth with him.

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