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sopebubbles · 2 years

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Chapter Four

Summary: How many men will it take to save you? To be honest, you've gotten pretty used to saving yourself. Even though you're far from a delicate thing, Los Angeles is a dangerous place you can't seem to escape no matter how hard you try. The top 7 members of Bangtan should never have crossed your path, but they soon find they'd do just about anything to help you escape your past and make it safe for you to stay. But will you?

Genre: mafia au, poly ot7, angst, some smut, honestly a lot more fluff than i expected, POC reader/oc

Warnings: Graphic violence, cursing, implied death for minor characters, mentions of human trafficking, sex (penetration), guns, blood

Word count: 8K

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You came to with a groan for the pain in your head and your neck. You moved your hand to rub your face where it had been pressed against the concrete, only to find that you couldn't lift it. You twisted your wrists against the rope that bound your hands behind your back. The darkness around you was impenetrable but you could sense another presence in the large open space with you. You had to be in some warehouse. Gangsters are so goddamn predictable. After looking fruitlessly around you for some kind of sign, you laid your head back down on the concrete floor beneath you and sighed quietly.

You really fucking hate getting kidnapped.

Your mind raced for reasons why you were here. It'd been two years now you'd stayed out of this shit. Why pull you back in now? While you thought, you struggled only slightly to release one hand from the amateurishly tied ropes. You made your movements as silent as possible as you got to your feet, coiling the ends of rope around your hands until you were left with just the right length. The element of surprise was your greatest advantage against the gigantic piece of shit they left to guard you. As soon as you were behind him, you slipped the rope quickly over his head and pulled back with all your might. His neck was so thick you didn't think you'd be able to crush his windpipe, but that was okay as long as you could knock him out long enough to make an escape. He reacted slowly, but he wasn't completely lifeless. He dropped the phone from his hand where he'd been playing candy crush—who the fuck even plays candy crush anymore? Whatever outfit this is really should be ashamed of themselves for their shitty staff. The man attempted to stand, threatening to take your body with him, but you doubled your efforts to pull him down as he struggled for breath and his gun. He got neither. Unfortunately, he made a bit too much noise when he fell from the metal folding chair and it scraped against the ground. Muffled shouts started outside and got louder as they came toward the door.

Chinese—but why?

Without any time to waste, you reached down to grab the gun from the back of the man's pants that he hadn't been able to reach. His chest still rose and fell shallowly. The door to the warehouse opened, the lights came on, and two men pointed their guns at you. You cocked the gun in your hand and pointed it at the man on the ground.

"He's not dead. Just sleeping," you said loudly to the men across the room from you. The volume kept any tremor from your voice. "I don’t wanna kill him. I just want to leave."

A derisive laugh erupted from one of the men. "Put the gun down, sweetheart, before you hurt yourself."

You lifted your hand a fraction and fired a bullet at the concrete six inches from the unconscious man's head. "I'm not the one who's gonna get hurt," you replied after the ringing of the ricochet.

"Got a crazy one," the second man said to the first with a sinister grin.

"Listen, guys," you started sweetly as you stepped around the large man on the ground, gun still pointed at his head. The other two tightened their grips on their pistols. As you got further away from the lifeless lump on the floor you raised your hands up, gun pointed toward the ceiling and smiled. "I don't want any trouble. I don't know you. I don't even know why I'm here. I think, maybe, you've got the wrong girl, and I'm happy to just let it go, if you just let me go. Alright?"

"Stop!" The first man ordered, punctuating his command with a movement of his gun, and you obeyed. "Do we look incompetent to you?"

Your eyes slid to the man you so easily overpowered, but you kept your mouth shut.

"You should be careful about what kind of friends you make, girl," the other one cautioned.

Now, what the hell did that mean?

"Your man made a mistake when he killed my brother," the first man informed you. "And now you're going to stay here until he comes so that I can return the favor."

Your brow ticked in confusion, but you tried to keep your face neutral. They couldn't be talking about Taehyung. And he had not been your 'man' for a very long time, so you couldn't seem to connect the dots.

"Now, be a good girl. Put the gun down."

You considered your options carefully. It was two against one, and in hand to hand combat that wouldn't be a bad thing for you. These two weren't big like the first one, though it was hard to tell under their ordinary black suits. Still you would be fighting for your life and that was always your advantage. Two guns to your one was a different story. You could shoot, sure, but not two guys at once and not from this distance. You nodded your head and slowly lowered your gun down to the ground, kicking it gently away from you.

"Now, my friend here is going to tie you to that chair, properly this time. And if you wait like a good little girl, you can leave unharmed when this is all over."

Your fingers straightened and flexed as you resisted the urge to form them into fists and show him just what kind of little girl you were. The other man approached you with his gun still pointed at your chest. “Turn around.”

You complied, walking toward the metal chair in the center of the room, swaying your hips more than you normally would as you went. You stopped dead in front of the overturned piece of metal. You felt a different piece of metal press into the small of your back.

“Pick it up.”

You bent over, making sure to push your ass out so he could get the best view, and lifted the chair, setting it on all four legs loudly. The man jumped and as you turned around you grabbed the top of the gun pointed at your back, aiming it sideways. When it went off in his hand, his friend panicked, firing his own weapon straight into the back of his comrade. The man fell to the floor, but his gun was in your hands now. You looked down to the man at your feet before looking at the one between you and the door. He stood staring, shocked.

“Okay, see, that one was your fault.”

Your voice seemed to bring the man back to the present. He retrained his gun on you. “I was going to let you go, bitch. But now you can die with your boyfriend when he gets here.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed as you raised your own gun. “Yeah, I don’t know what that’s all about, but I don’t plan on sticking around that long. So you can let me go, or I can kill you. Your choice, asshole.”

“You talk tough, but you’re bluffing. You don’t have the guts to kill me, or the aim.”

These fucking mob guys, honestly. So arrogant. Not that he was entirely wrong. You didn’t have the aim. At least you couldn’t be certain. Not at this range. You definitely had the guts though, and that would be a serious miscalculation on his part.

Your life is the only thing in this world that belongs to you. Don’t you ever let it go. You survive, no matter what. Your father’s voice echoed in your head, even after all these years, triggered by the flush of adrenaline through your veins as your grip tightened on the handle of the gun in your hands.

You stepped over the body of the thug at your feet. He wasn't dead yet, if his groans were anything to go by, but he was losing a lot of blood. Your adversary shifted his stance as you got closer, unnerved by your courage. This was distinctly not how he had imagined the plan going.

"Stop!" The single word came out an octave higher than before. Already you liked your chances better. At least from here you were sure to wound him, and that would be enough to get away.

"This is your last chance. Let me go." There was no pleading in your voice. You were even and measured, and it was all the more disconcerting. You took a step, testing him, and then another and another.

The closer you got to him, the more nervous he became. His hands trembled. Sweat coated his palms and dripped down his cheek, and without clearly thinking it, his trigger finger squeezed.

Automatically, you returned fire and shot once. The bullet struck his shoulder. Not a fatal hit, and part of you was glad. At least you hadn't killed anyone tonight. The man fell to the ground, and with your gun still fixed on him he had the sense enough not to shoot again. You walked closer to him and to the door, and his eyes stayed on you, looking up at you as if pleading for some kind of mercy.

"I don't want to kill you," you promised him as you crouched before him, and for a moment relief flitted across his face before you smacked the side of his head with the butt of your gun. His head hit the concrete with a thud, and you dug around in his pockets for his cell phone.

You spared one last glance at the three bodies lying on the warehouse floor before you walked out of the building and dialed a number you wished you didn’t still have memorized. You didn't even know if it was still his number, but the longer it rang, the further you got from the warehouse.

"Hello?" He finally answered.

"Do you mind telling me why I was just kidnapped by three chinese pendejos?" You spoke into the phone.

There's a pause on the other line and then-

"Yn?" The disbelief in his voice was evident.

"Sí, Joaquin. It's me. And I wanna know how I got dragged back into this shit when I was out. I've been out."

The man on the other line seemed to think for a second. "I don't know, princesa. I don't have anything to do with any chinos."

"Then what the hell would they want with me?!" You were practically shouting, but there was no one in this deserted neighborhood to hear you anyway.

"Oh, I don't know Yn." It sickened you the way you could imagine his smirk in his tone. "But maybe you've not been quite as out as you believed."

"I don't want anything to do with this shit, Joaquin," you moaned.

"So you say, but you still have my number, don't you? Is this your new number?"

You cringed at the leer in his voice and at yourself for having called him. A sinking feeling in your stomach told you this was a mistake. Before you could retort, a set of headlights turned onto the dark lonely street you stood on the edge of.

"Fuck," you muttered, fingers clenching around the gun you still held. "Nah, I took it off the guy I almost killed. But I got trouble. Gotta go."

"Wait! Yn, where are you? I'll come-" you hung up before you could hear the rest of his offer and tossed the phone to the ground beside you, preparing yourself as the car came to a stop in front of you. The passenger door opened before the driver even had a chance to put the car into park, and a tall man jumped out of the front seat.

"Val?" Your boyfriend called your name in shock. Taehyung's hair was wild, as if he'd been running his hands through it all night and his eyes were blown wide with shock.

Another man exited the door behind him, gun already in hand as he looked you up and down. "This is your Val?" He almost sounded…what? Impressed?

Your eyes slid over to the driver, Jungkook. The car he drove was the same expensive model Tae drove "for work". All the pieces began to fall into place.

Your man, your golden Taehyung was a gangster just like all the rest. You had thought you were keeping the biggest secrets in your relationship. You had excused yourself because you were only trying to escape your past. But Taehyung had been lying to you about his present, about where he went when he wasn't with you, about who he was. And suddenly your whole past had come crashing down on top of you. Almost like you'd never left. Like muscle memory. You lifted the gun that had been innocently hanging by your side and aimed it straight at his head.

"Woah! Val! It's me. It's Taehyung!" The man held his hands out in front of him, though he remained shielded by the car door.

"Who the fuck are you?!" You shouted back.

"It's me, baby! It's me! Put the gun down!" Tae pleaded, and somehow you hated him for it.

"What have you done?" You asked him, and for the first time tonight your voice actually shook.

"Damn, you had to go for a crazy one, huh, Tae?" The man behind him remarked, and your thumb pulled back the hammer into the firing position.

"Fuck, Hoseok, shut your goddamn mouth!" Taehyung took a deep breath, and the driver opened his door and exited the car. You didn't need to look when you heard him cock his own weapon. "Jungkook, don't! Everyone just calm down. Fuck!"

Taehyung stepped out from behind the door with its dark tinted window and took a step in your direction, but your aim followed him.

"Val, baby, you're upset, and I get that, but you don't want to shoot me."

"I don't know. I've already shot twice tonight. Been shot at more than that. I think I'd like to even things up."

"Baby, I'll tell you everything, just put down the gun, okay?" He took another step closer to you, fully confident you wouldn't shoot, but you continued to stare him down, even as your heart rate sped up more than at any other time that night. "Baby, you're hurt. Let me take you with me, so we can patch you up, alright?"

You blinked hard and shook your head. You hadn't been hurt. What was he talking about? You followed his gaze to your left arm, realizing for the first time that you'd been hit. It was just the adrenaline keeping you from feeling the wound where the last man's bullet had grazed you. "It's a scratch."

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry I let you even get a scratch. I came to save you as fast as I could."

At that you had to laugh, and with it you lowered your weapon. The men in front of you released the breaths they'd been holding, and Jungkook dropped his aim as well.

"Save me? Save me?!" You shouted back at him. "Do I look like I need some hijo de puta to come save me?"

Hoseok and Jungkook exchanged a wary, wide-eyed glance as you continued to rant, slipping incoherently between Spanish and English—or at least incoherently to them.

"Do you know what she's saying?" Jungkook asked in Korean, and Hoseok just shook his head with a look of confusion. Taehyung followed your gestures to the warehouse to his right.

"Baby, how'd you get out?" He wondered, his quiet, befuddled voice in stark contrast to your own frantic one.

You stopped cold. "Pendejo, I told you I shot twice."

Taehyung looked at you with wide eyes. "Did you kill them?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, just wounded, but they might bleed out, so maybe. Although, one guy might be waking up very soon."

Hoseok sighed and pulled out his pistol as he trudged toward the building.

"You don't have to do that!" You called after him, even though you knew it was useless. This was the part you truly hated. The cycle of killing. You were here because Taehyung—apparently—killed someone, and now the ones who tried to kill him would die. It would never end.

Suddenly, you felt incredibly tired. All the exhaustion hitting you at once as the adrenaline ebbed away. You felt the sting in your arm, and your sense of betrayal started to overwhelm your knee jerk anger at the revelation that your carefree, fun-loving boyfriend was in fact a killer. Just as you began to accept this change in your state, you heard the shots ring out, and your shoulders slumped.

"Val, baby?" Taehyung's voice was soft now as he came toward you to take your weary body in his hands. "Come with me."

"Okay," you conceded, because you needed to get the fuck away from wherever the hell you were now.

"Gimme the gun, baby," he cooed as he placed his hand on top, pushing the hammer into a less dangerous position and switching the safety as soon as he had it from your hand.

"Everything's all fucked up now, Tae," you whined as he tucked the gun away in his pants. He took your face in his hands and tilted your head up. First he placed a kiss on your forehead and then on your lips before he wrapped his arms around you.

"I know. We'll work it all out after we get away from here. Come on," he coaxed you to the car, and you let yourself be led.

Taehyung helped you into the back seat and then slid in beside you. The man in the driver's seat handed him a bandana, which he used to cover the wound where the bullet had grazed you, and it stung. Hoseok got in the front passenger seat and the smell of gasoline filled the car.

"Where'd you find gasoline?" Jungkook inquired, clearly amused.

"It was just sitting there," Hoseok shrugged, "so I figured…"

You looked to the building to see the flames crackling inside. So much for your no body count. Your stomach turned.

"Can you open the window? I think I'm gonna be sick."

"If she pukes in here, you're cleaning it, Tae," Jungkook warned as he rolled down the windows and pulled away from the scene.

Taehyung didn't respond to his associate and simply pulled you into his side. "You're just in shock, baby. It's over now."

Truthfully, he had no idea what to make of you at that moment. Of all the terrifying things he thought he might see when he found you tonight, this hadn't even been a possibility. He knew he'd lied, and so many of his actions had put you in a terrible position, but he suddenly had the feeling that you had secrets you were hiding, too.

By the time Jungkook pulled into the driveway of a ridiculously large mansion in Beverly hills, you'd evened out. You still felt the exhaustion but you were less overwhelmed by it all. No one had talked on the drive and the wind from the open windows allowed you to clear your head.

"Where are we? Why are we here?" You wondered. Was this Taehyung's home?

"Boss said to bring you here when we got you, so we're here," Taehyung explained as the others climbed out of the car. He opened the door for you and tried to help you out but you refused it. After he closed the car door with a thud he slid his hand into yours, but you tugged it away. Despite having let him hold you in the car, you didn't want to be touched by him right now. Part of you was aware that it would be best to go into this situation with Taehyung's full support, but you refused to hide behind a man who hid the truth from you. If things somehow went wrong for you in here, you'd rather rely on yourself.

You were led into an Italian villa style house. You would have expected something more modern, but the large spaces and high ceilings still spoke of wealth.

"Take off your shoes," Hoseok murmured to you after you passed the heavy oak door as he slipped off his own shoes. This seemed horribly inconvenient. What if you needed to run? But you knew better than to disregard custom in a new environment, so you complied without a word. Then you were led from the open foyer into a round sitting room where several men were waiting.

Jimin's was the first face you saw. His plump lips pulled into a flirtatious smile when he saw you flanked by Hoseok and Jungkook, with Taehyung following closely behind you. His eyes danced with mischief and he raised an eyebrow in quiet curiosity at the sullen look on your boyfriend's face, which you yourself didn't care to notice. Jungkook slipped out of his leather jacket, revealing his thick, toned arms showing in his muscle shirt, before draping the jacket over the arm of one of the fine leather chairs and sat next to Jimin.

Another man of slight build and pale skin sat in another arm chair, close to the cold fireplace. He must have just been in conversation with the third man before your entrance, and he turned over his shoulder to get a glimpse of you before he rose to his feet and turned his whole body to give you a proper appraisal.

The third man in the room was clearly the most important. It wasn't exactly a rule that the biggest man would have to be the boss, but this man's energy was naturally commanding. His broad shoulders and chest stood firm, no slouch in his posture. The man was rigid and solid, like a mountain. And yet he looked relaxed, still wearing charcoal slacks and a burgundy button down shirt that was surely grateful for the few buttons he'd undone at the top. His rolled up sleeves allowed you to see that he had well defined muscles even down to his forearms. He looked formidable, but the most striking thing about him—about every single one of the men in the room—was his beauty. If asked, you wouldn't be able to say which among them was the most handsome.

Luckily—or unluckily, you weren't yet sure—that wasn't the kind of question they intended to ask you. The air in the room grew thick as the three new men and Taehyung watched you silently. As much as you didn't want to show your discomfort, you couldn't help shifting your weight on your feet nervously the longer they observed you. Finally, the man whom you identified as the leader shoved one hand in his pocket while the other rubbed his chin before he gestured to the man behind you.

"Taehyung, are you going to introduce us?"

You looked over your shoulder to see your boyfriend shake himself out of the thoughts he allowed himself to wander through.

"Namjoon hyung, this is Val. Val, this is my boss, my brother, Kim Namjoon," Taehyung introduced quietly before falling silent again.

"Since you're Taehyung's woman, I'll trust you not to repeat that name to anyone outside this house," the boss said with a hard set expression that matched his tone.

You bristled. "I don't belong to him," you sneered. "But I know how to keep my mouth shut."

"I hope so," Namjoon replied thoughtfully as he continued to take you in, making small observations as his eyes raked over your curves and your bare arms and legs. Then, just as all eyes began to turn from you to him and he knew he'd been caught, he turned his attention to his men. "You've returned well. No casualties?"

"None of ours," Jungkook replied with satisfaction.

"How many?"

"Three," Hoseok responded. "But Val's the one that took them down. I just finished them off."

Namjoon's appraising eyes returned to you, as if making adjustments to his evaluation of you. "Evidence?" Now his eyes didn't leave you.

"Burned."

"Injuries?" Namjoon's eyes flickered to the red banana in your arm. Either you were hurt or you were a Blood, and either way Namjoon needed to know. Already you could see he was a man who liked to be informed. Nevertheless, you said nothing and failed to acknowledge your arm.

"Val got hit before we got there," Taehyung told him with a large hand on your shoulder.

"Let the doc take care of her," the leader replied, gesturing to the pale man at his side as if you weren't in the room. The other man took a step toward you.

"I'm fine. It's just a scratch. Nothing to worry about." You shrugged.

"Perhaps, but with Jungkook's dirty handkerchief on it, you might just let me clean you up to be safe," the slight man offered kindly.

You sucked in a deep breath and looked back at Taehyung for his reaction. He gave you a slight smile.

"You can trust the doc." You huffed a laugh to show how unimpressed you were with his assurances. But you let the man guide you away anyway. Anything to get away from so many sets of eyes. He led you back through the foyer to a room at the end of a long hallway. It almost looked like an actual hospital room, but maybe more like a school nurse's office, with one convalescent bed and one exam table, and numerous instruments and supplies for treating a variety of wounds.

"Hop up," he instructed with a light voice.

You did as you were told and then watched as he moved around his space gathering everything he would need to clean and dress your wound. He knew where everything in his stainless steel drawers and cabinets was stored. He assumed that since your wound wasn't actively gushing blood, you wouldn't need stitches.

"How bad is the pain?" He asked as he stretched latex gloves over his large hands.

"Just a tickle," you responded. He lifted his eyebrows incredulously and then began to untie your makeshift bandage. "So do they just call you doc? Or are you an actual doctor?"

"I did go to med school. I just didn’t graduate," he replied calmly as he peeled away the fabric.

"Why not?"

"Got a better offer."

You took another look at his small clinic. "Is it really better?"

"Well, the pay is phenomenal, the hours aren't bad, and no one can sue me for mal practice, so, it's pretty great." He gave you a tight lipped smile, but it seemed to genuinely reach his eyes. "It looks like the bullet just grazed you. You'll live. But i can give you something for the pain in you like."

"I'm fine. It doesn't hurt," you lied. It did hurt, but it wasn't anything you couldn't tolerate.

"I'm glad, but this is gonna hurt," he warned just a second before he began to clean your wound.

"Chingada, doc, that fucking burns!" You whined loudly, making him chuckle.

"Everyone's a tough guy until you start with the alcohol. My name is Yoongi by the way. Min Yoongi. Most people call me Min, or doc." He rambled to distract you from his work, but it didn't really help. You just held your breath and kept quiet. You resisted the urge to tell him you wouldn't need his name because you would be getting as far away as possible from all this shit as soon as you could. Yoongi gingerly pressed a clean gauze to your wound and secured it with tape. "All done."

He gestured for you to get down from the table and you smirked at him. "What, doc? No lollipop?"

"What went down tonight?" Namjoon asked his men after you left with Yoongi.

"She hasn't said what happened with Zhang and his men. She'd already put them down and gotten herself out of the warehouse by the time we got there," Taehyung answered, his voice flat as he went to sit next to Hoseok on the couch.

"How many men did Zhang have with him?"

"Just two. There were three bodies down by the time we got there."

"How'd she manage that?" Namjoon wondered, trying not to sound as impressed as he was.

"I have no idea," Taehyung shook his head in disbelief. Then he remembered the gun he'd taken from you earlier and pulled it out from his back and set it on the coffee table. "I guess she got one of their guns, but I don't know how." Taehyung rubbed his hands over his face as he tried to comprehend your actions.

"Where'd you find this girl again?" Hoseok asked.

"I found her at the club."

"You think there's any chance she was there on purpose? Maybe she's connected to-"

"No. There's no way she knew," Jungkook interjected, shaking his head. "It was obvious she had no idea who Taehyung really was before tonight. The way she looked at you like she really was gonna shoot you. There's no way she knew."

Taehyung cringed at the memory. There was a moment out there on that lonely street when he really thought you would try to kill him, and he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

"It's pretty obvious she knows her way around a gun, alright," Hoseok agreed. "But not just that. Two of the men had gunshot wounds, but one of them had been strangled. There's definitely more to that little girl than meets the eye."

"What is she? A spy or something?" Jimin chuckled, but Namjoon shot him a look that said this was no laughing matter.

"What did you dig up on her?" Hoseok asked, getting up to make himself a drink.

Jimin shook his head. "Nothing. Valentina Vasquez has to be an alias. There are plenty of them in the world, but none of them are her. Whoever she is, is a mystery."

"Maybe someone should go check on Yoongi hyung," Jungkook joked.

"Don't worry, she didn't hurt me," Yoongi chimed in as he re-entered the room with you. "And it's probably a good thing she doesn't understand Korean."

Everyone looked to their leader to speak, not only because he was in control, but also because his English was most fluent. Only he was born in LA, the prince of the Korean mafia which in those days was much smaller. Namjoon's father had done a lot to grow the international syndicate's presence in Los Angeles, but it was nothing compared to the advances Namjoon was trying to make. In just a few years, he had made a name for himself as an intimidating and calculating man. He turned those examining eyes on you once more.

"We were just discussing what happened tonight. How did you escape Zhang and his men?"

You flinched at hearing the name of the man. You would have preferred for his memory to remain nameless. But you tried to keep your features composed with a shrug. "I just did what I had to do to survive."

"You must be very good at surviving," Namjoon observed.

"Very." The short word sounded almost like a threat, or maybe a warning. Namjoon considered that before he spoke again.

"Perhaps we could speak privately in my office," he said, gesturing through another doorway. Your body tensed, but his subordinates began to move and you knew you'd be left alone with him whether you agreed or not, so you moved toward the room he indicated.

"Wait out here, Taehyung," Namjoon ordered softly. Taehyung stopped unhappily in his tracks.

"Hyung-nim-"

"I wouldn't hurt her," Namjoon promised.

"It's fine, Tae," you mumbled before walking through the door.

The leader closed the door as you stood awkwardly in the middle of his large office. The walls were decorated with expensive paintings and a bookshelf on the far wall held more sculptures than books. He walked around the sturdy mahogany desk that dominated the room and sat back in his chair.

"Please, sit. Would you like a drink? I bet you could use one after such a traumatic night."

You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. Tonight didn't even rank amongst your top five worst nights. "I'm fine."

"You don't seem too grateful to be here," Namjoon noted after another long, quiet moment of examining you. It was starting to frustrate him that you were so closed off and impolite. "I sent my men to go save you, had my man patch you up, and not so much as a thank you?"

You glanced down at the bandage on your arm. "Sorry for wasting your kindness, but thank you for the bandaid." Your words dripped with sarcasm and Namjoon leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk, clasping his hands and interlocking his fingers.

"Who are you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, you're with one of my men, and he seems to want to keep it that way, so yes, it does matter."

"I was with Taehyung, but I won't see him again after tonight."

Namjoon cocked his head and pursed his lips. "Just like that? He lied and you're done." Namjoon snapped his fingers.

You groaned. "Not that I owe you an explanation, but it isn't just that he lied. He killed someone, and that put my life in danger, and it will happen again. I don't want to live like this. There are other reasons, and that's between me and him. But no matter how much I care about him, I don't want to live like this."

"Because you're familiar with this life, aren't you, Val?" You remained silent in spite of his accusations, but the way your eyes dropped to the floor told him he was right. "Who are you?" He repeated. "We all know you're not Valentina Vasquez. There are no records of you."

You snorted. Of course they looked into you. And of course they found nothing because they're was nothing to find. "Well, I'm from Mexico, so…" You deflected.

"Are you a member of La familia?" Namjoon hadn't had any direct contact with the Mexican gang yet, and he was grateful for that. They had a reputation as the most ruthless gang in Los Angeles, and the idea that he had one of their own crawling around underneath his nose set his teeth on edge.

Your eyes hardened at the accusation. "I am not a member of La Familia."

"But you have ties to them, don't you?" Namjoon rose from his chair.

You set your jaw like stone. "Not anymore."

"How am I supposed to believe that?" The leader scoffed.

You dropped your arms and walked toward Namjoon's desk so you stood only a few feet in front of him and spoke quietly. "Mr. Kim, you seem like a man who knows things. So do you know what the foundation of La Familia’s wealth is?"

Namjoon nodded. "It used to be drugs, but now they deal most heavily in human trafficking." He didn't show it but the idea sent a chill down his spine. Bangtan might participate in their fair share of violent crime, but buying and selling humans wasn't a world he was willing to delve into. And that's when it hit him. "You?"

You turned your head away from him, followed by your body, taking a few steps away from him. "So you can imagine that now that I'm free, I don't have anything to do with them anymore." Your skin crawled at the memory of speaking with Joaquin only an hour ago. Namjoon remained speechless as he thought through your revelation. So you cleared your throat and spoke first. "Listen, Mr. Kim. As I said, I won't be a problem after tonight. I've been trying to leave LA for a long time, and tomorrow morning you can count on me to be on a bus out of the state."

"Do you think Taehyung will let you go that easily? He's in love with you."

"Taehyung is in love with an illusion. It had to end eventually. You should stop him from stopping me."

Namjoon nodded along. "Do you need money for a bus ticket?"

You made a derisive sound at the back of your throat and shook your head. "I won't put myself in debt to you. I'll get a ticket for as far as my money will take me and I'll figure out the rest later." Again, Namjoon remained silent. "If there's nothing else you wish to ask me…"

"You can go," Namjoon told you with a gesture towards the door. You walked toward it without hesitation. "And Val?" You stopped and turned to him one last time. "I hope you find a good life."

Well, that was unexpected. So much so you actually smiled and gave him a small nod before you left his office.

Taehyung was sitting on the couch again when you emerged. Another man was waiting with him, tall and handsome as all the rest.

"You must be Val," he smiled beautifully. You looked at him blankly, not in the mood to waste energy on pointless introductions.

"Taehyung, I want to go home," you started firmly.

Taehyung stood so he towered over you and placed his hands on your neck. "Baby, it's late. Why don't we stay here tonight? And I'll take you home in the morning."

"No, I want to go home now," you practically whined.

"Baby, please, we have so much to talk about-"

"I don't wanna talk. I just wanna sleep." You weren't waiting anymore. You walked toward the exit, determined to get home even if you had to steal a car to get there.

"Taehyung, drive the girl home. She should be somewhere she feels comfortable after the night she's had," Namjoon ordered him. Taehyung could only bow his head and follow you out.

"Where is Jungkook?" Namjoon asked Seokjin.

"Here, Joon," the man answered, walking in from the foyer.

"You should go get a nap. I'm going to need you out on the streets before the sun rises to carry out a special mission for me."

The younger man bowed and made his way to his bedroom before the leader invited Seokjin into his office for a night cap.

You were silent on the drive to your apartment, and it had Taehyung on edge. He kept waiting for you to unleash your rage on him, to hit him with the barrage of Spanish curses he often found endearing because he couldn't understand them. He wanted you to cry and scream and listen to his side of things, but instead you stubbornly refused to discuss it. You shot down every attempt he made to start a conversation and stared stoically out the windshield the entire ride.

"Goodnight, Taehyung. Thanks for the ride," you mumbled as you released your seatbelt and opened the door.

He hurried out after you and caught you in his hands before you could make it to the gate of your complex. "Val, wait! You can't seriously leave without letting me fix this! I love you."

He looked at you with his big puppy dog eyes, and it was almost convincing. There were so many reasons for Val to love Tae, but those reasons couldn't be anymore. Val and Tae were innocents, but they weren't a reality. You weren't Val, and he wasn't Tae. You touched his cheek softly.

"What you love is a lie, Taehyung. My name isn't Val, and the girl you fell in love with is nothing more than a fantasy of the life I wish I could live."

"But we can, baby. I promise we'll make it work." Taehyung continued to beg but you turned your back on him to unlock the gate after you dug your keys out of your bag, which you'd found in his car. He slipped through the gate to follow you before you could shut him out.

"Tae," you sighed, "this whole relationship is a lie, and it never could have lasted. This is how it ends. Please leave." You tried your best to ignore him as you climbed the noisy metal staircase up to your second floor apartment. But the more you pulled, the more he pushed; that was the way it had always been with you. His footsteps clanged right after yours, and by the time you made it to your door and tried to unlock it, Taehyung had you caged in and you knew there'd be no getting rid of him tonight. You slid the key into the door but rested your hand in the knob before entering and hung your head low.

Taehyung could sense the part of you that wanted to cling to what you had shared, and he clung onto it, too. He placed his hands on your hips, pulling your back against his chest as you sighed. He rested his forehead to the back of your head and breathed in your scent like it was the last breath he'd ever take.

"Just give me tonight," he pleaded.

You hesitated for a moment longer before you nodded silently and turned the handle, letting him in. You did your best to close and lock the door quietly since it was the small hours of the morning and your roommate was surely asleep. You took Taehyung's hand and led him to your bed. Your bag and keys slipped lazily to the floor. Taehyung turned the light on, but you were quick to flip it back off, turning to him to pull him into a reckless kiss. Your arms slid over his shoulders, pulling yourself up into him as his hands slid down your back side, over the curve of your ass to grab you under your thighs and lift you up. Your legs wrapped tightly around him as he placed you on your small bed. You didn't release him, even when he set you down, pulling him with you instead, nor did his mouth give you more than an inch of space as he drifted from your lips to your jaw. Your fingers curled deep into his hair, pulling gently as his mouth wandered.

"I promise, I'll never let you get hurt again, Val. I'll protect you," he said after a deep breath when he finally had to pull away.

You stroked his cheek with your thumb and shook your head at him. "You can't protect me as long as you live this life."

"Don't you believe in me?" He wondered desperately, clearly oblivious to how difficult it would be to ever believe him again.

"It doesn't matter, Tae. I can't be safe unless I leave it behind." The pain and fear of losing you were so clear in his eyes, and it almost made you doubt. "Let's run away," you suggested. Maybe there was a life for Val and Tae, somewhere far away.

But you could read the conflict in his eyes so easily. His first reaction was not an affirmative one, and that was all you needed to know.

"This is my life, my family," he hesitated.

You smiled in spite of yourself and shook your head the tiniest bit. "I know. I was just thinking out loud."

"I want you to be a part of my life, too," he insisted.

You brought Taehyung's mouth back to yours. "Let's not talk," you mumbled before licking your tongue across his lips. He parted them and pushed his own wet muscle back against yours. Urgently, your hands reached between your bodies to undo the buttons on Taehyung's shirt. Ignoring your own trembling, you unbuckled his belt and he pulled away to finish removing his clothes for you. He'd never undressed so quickly in his life, afraid that if he wasted a second the moment would disappear. He pulled at your shorts without bothering with the button and dragged them off your legs along with your panties. His knees sank into the bed as he scooped you up in his arms and you ripped off your low cut top as you sat astride his thighs.

You spat in your palm before taking his long cock in your hand. He was already getting so hard for you, and it only took a few strokes from you to get him all the way there. You lifted up to press his tip to your core.

"I don't wanna hurt you," he said with his hands on your hips, holding you back.

"Just need you inside of me." You pushed yourself down onto his cock, muffling your cry with his mouth as you sank deeper.

Taehyung held you close as you bounced yourself on top of him, arching your back to get just the right angle. His mouth explored your collarbones and nipped at your breasts while you whimpered for him.

He felt himself getting close, but he wasn't ready for it to end yet. He laid you down on your back so he could be in control. Using your slick he rubbed his fingers over your neglected clit, making you squirm beneath him as he hovered over you, leaning on one arm.

"That's my pretty girl. You look so fucking beautiful like this, baby," he murmured as he looked down on you in the weak light streaming in your window from the street lights outside. Even in the darkness he tried to memorize your features.

"More," you whined for him and pulled his hips back down toward yours. You needed him filling you up and covering your skin with his. You needed more heat, more friction, anything to keep you from thinking. Taehyung pushed back into you. Your walls hugged tightly around him as he set a slow pace, giving you longer, deeper thrusts. He lowered himself to his elbow to be closer to you and brushed your hair away from your face.

"I love you, baby. I love you. I love you." He chanted when he buried his head in your neck. You couldn't respond, so you just held desperately to his back and let him fuck you slowly, trying hard not to think of how you were sure you were in love with him before tonight, because it would only break your heart.

"Need you to come for me," he begged, and you slid your hand between you to rub your clit again, giving in to what he wanted one last time. As he felt your walls tighten around him he sped up his pace in order to reach his high when you met yours. You focused on the tension in your core and nothing else until your orgasm rumbled through your whole body.

"Mm, fuck, baby," Tae whined just before he painted your walls. He slowed until he was completely still, but he was afraid to pull away from you, afraid this was the last time he would be inside of you. So he kept close and peppered your face with kisses and apologies.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry," he repeated. "I promise I'll make it right. Stay. Stay with me," he begged. Only when you mumbled an agreement did he finally move from between your legs to lay behind you. For a moment he traced a finger along one of the scars on your back that he'd never really seen before, that you refused to tell him about, and they served as an excuse not to feel guilty for lying when you told him you'd stay.

After a minute Taegyung wrapped his arms around you, catching you in the vice he always did when you slept together. You never had the heart to tell him how you hated it, how you felt trapped and sometimes even a little scared. You waited until you could hear his gentle snores and let a few more minutes pass to make sure he was really asleep before you wriggled yourself out of his hold. When he became a little restless you slipped the large teddy bear plushie he had won for you at Santa Monica Pier on your very first date. Then you slipped away to the bathroom.

With the hot water running down your back you final let it in: the crippling terror of everything that happened that night and everything it meant. You relived every moment, from being grabbed in the alley to shooting Zhang in the warehouse to the moment you heard Joaquin's voice again. The idea you had possibly invited that man back into your life, and all because the man in your bed hadn't been honest with you, filled you with the worst kind of fear. You let your tears fall as other images came back to you. Older, more violent memories you had been trying to suppress surfaced and all you could do was try to hold in any sounds of your pain.

You couldn't seem to escape until the hot water ran out. The cold stream shocked your system back into the present moment and you cursed yourself as you tried to quickly wash your hair in the icy water. You shut off the water and quickly wrap a towel around you to calm the goosebumps flared across your skin, using another one to get as much water out of your hair as possible before you threw it up into a bun atop your head.

You headed back to the living room, thankful that Taehyung had always been a heavy sleeper. It was virtually impossible to wake him until he wanted to wake up. That and your practiced light-footedness made it possible for you to move around the room without him ever stirring. You grabbed every dollar you had saved, packed all the clothing you could into a large duffle bag and left the rest, including the teddy bear caught between Taehyung's arms where you should be. It wasn't like you could take it with you anyway. Let it be there to remind him of the innocence you once shared, even if it was only a fantasy. He deserved better, at least a proper goodbye even if there was nothing he could say to convince you to stay, but instead you left without so much as a kiss before you could regret your decision. It was the only one you felt you could make.

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#bts fanfic #bts mafia #tae smut #bts ot7 #bts x reader

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waywardsculs · 2 months

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Love and Wrath , Unified

A continuation from @celestialfcllen ‘s drabble, please read that first before this one if you haven't already!

The deal had been one Lilith, originally, knew little of. She left much to Lucifer when dealing with those from Heaven, the anger she held toward them for casting the pair into the depths of Hell only growing with every day that passed, but when he’d come to her eons later and spoke of revenge for the exterminations?

Lilith was positively delighted .

Oh, how she had longed for revenge, worked to strengthen herself, their people, their daughter for the day where they would finally enact a true rebellion against those that shunned them. The moment Adam had aimed for Charlie, he had sealed the fate of all those that stood beyond Seraphiel’s golden gates. None who stood in their path would be spared now .

Unlike her husband, however, Lilith had to bide her time. He, despite the burns of Heaven’s holy magic upon his now cursed form, was to be the vanguard, to destroy what had once hoped to keep them at bay with the same power that their very God - their creator - had gifted unto Lucifer in the time of beginning. That same power was to be their downfall … How poetic , she thought to herself, but now was not the time for idle musings.

The screams of the so - called holy were like music to Lilith’s ears in that moment, the exhilarating rush of wind that whipped long hair behind her as the very streets before her were upheaved. Slowly, calmly, she alone followed along in Lucifer’s wake, the only being able to share in a fraction of his power to defy the most holy grounds and walk upon lands that should have destroyed her.

This was why she had been gone for seven years .

Those that thought themselves able to flee from Lucifer’s wrath would only find themselves captured by tendrils of pure darkness, monstrous serpents of black magic and shadow snatching angels from the very sky they’d once called home at the behest of none other than Lilith herself. But where would the fun be if they were gifted a painless parting? Adam and his exorcists had denied something so basic to the denizens of Hell … And it was time she made sure all of Heaven felt the ramifications for allowing that boorish oaf of a man even a sliver of power.

Pure white tail slowly swayed from side to side behind her, snake’s head at the end releasing a low, dangerous hiss as two pairs of large bat - like wings sprouted from her back, a single flap lifting her from broken pavement to dart through the air only for clawed hand to close around the throat of a foolhardy exorcist that had thought they could sneak behind her husband. The roars of Razzle and Dazzle as they soared through the skies, screams of the holy souls, crackling of growing fires and crumbling of buildings … Oh, what a sweet symphony it was to one that had so sorely craved this self - delivered retribution. Surely her husband could feel the way her very soul sang out in joy.

Ah, but she did have the little pest to handle, didn’t she? Trivial. Glowing crimson eyes didn’t even bother turning toward the angel that struggled and attempted to claw her way free, angelic spear long gone. Instead their wings were torn from their back, discarded like unwanted garbage in a spray of feathers and golden ichor before she was thrown high - directly into the waiting mouth of Razzle to devour. A little snack to keep his energy up, of course.

With a growl of her own rumbling from deep within her chest, guttural, bestial in nature, Lilith’s usual elegance was cast aside in favour of a vicious, bloodthirsty killing machine, darting through the air at breakneck speeds to handle any stragglers that managed to somehow avoid Lucifer’s wrath.

Every so often a dark tendril would swat away an angel, a weapon, whatever might have attempted to so much as harm a single hair upon Lucifer’s head. He hardly needed her protection, but every movement, every step the pair took almost made it seem like they were amidst their own deadly dance, dipping and weaving in perfect harmony with one another to create a maelstrom of pure carnage.

They were the epitome of fear, of destruction, of Hellish rebuke.

Amidst her revelry in the sight of so many bodies still among once holy streets, however, it seemed Lilith had become almost complacent. Just as another life was stamped out by her hand did an ear - piercing scream come from directly behind the Hellish Queen, yet not even a drop of blood found her body, only the sound of crushing bone and tearing flesh to tell her that Lucifer had seen to her safety.

Lips lifted into a positively enamored smile, ichor - drenched claws reaching forth to brush along his jaw with only the utmost reverence as, in the very heart of their upheaval, lips met his. She could taste the mixture of blood, of brimstone, mixed with the promise that they would both return to their daughter safely once revenge had been exacted, and all of it only empowered her further.

From that moment on what had felt like a game to her became nothing more than mere child's play. The pair needed no words, no signals, only instinct . All of Hell would see as their King and Queen rained down punishment - returned in kind that which had been forced onto the Sinners and came so dangerously close to venturing beyond. Eons of rage that had been left to boil within Lilith in particular was finally allowed to overflow, to drown those that thought their hypocrisy so righteous, and by the end?

Hell’s Queen was elated . The Cherubim, the Seraphim, the Primordials, none that could have perhaps hoped to cease the slaughter had shown their faces, their God still missing from His throne … It was utterly perfect .

And so as she finally landed upon razed once holy ground once more Lilith all but draped herself about Lucifer’s shoulders, caring little of the golden viscera that surrounded them, the blood of the angels that soiled their clothing. Instead she gave him that love - laden smile once more, thoroughly satisfied with their vengeance - for the moment .

“ Shall we return to our home , my King ? I believe now they understand … Their exorcisms have only just begun ~ ”

#celestialfcllen #she was having a lot of fun.... way too much fun #can you tell she had a grudge?#┊LILITH ═══ ✧ in character

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jinglr · 3 months

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[There is no god.

…

Correction, there is a god. Just not for us. I don’t know much about the Maker, but I know this. It made mythical, ancient beings, such as humans, insects, mammals…

…

And while it made cephalopods… it didn’t anticipate our birth. The turflings and the jellyfish and the crustaceans that walk this earth, did not come from the divine hand.

I fought in the Octarian army. I was an Octoling Elite. I don’t remember the fight but I remember being injured so gravely I almost died.

…

Second correction, I did die. The world around me went from artificial, sickly light to a radiant light of utmost purity. I was met with an Angel, with a thousand heads, with even more eyes.

It gazed at me with its many faces. It had the head of a boar, a snake, a crane, a mantis, the human…. I could go on.

However… I did not see any face resembling modern day cephalopods.

No Inklings… no Octolings… no jellyfish… no Octarians…. Everything but us. We were born of human, not of god.

The Angel gazed at me for a fraction of a second. It need not to hesitate it’s decision.

“REJECTED”

It had said to me, and suddenly the light was gone.

It was all dark. It was darker than dark. It was so black, the black had wrapped around itself and made it white again. I had no body. No eyes. No heart. No mind. I spent an eternity, floating in the void where heaven’s rejects are left to rot. I touched an infinity in a second, yet it was just a mere second of infinity. And it was cold. The cold turned me inside out and froze me from whatever inside I had…

And then there was light again. I was yanked from purgatory and cemented into my inky prison.

The doctors hunched over me, told me they almost lost me… that I was too invaluable to lose… what they didn’t know is that I had lost myself.

Years went by, and I devoted my time researching our mortality. Upon finding out that there’s nothing behind the veil, I did as any sane would…

I built a powerful computer, where I immortalized my consciousness… of course.

I froze my body too… I don’t want to be trapped in binary forever.

…

But do you see now?

I’m trying to help you!

There is nothing once you die. I’m trying to save you!

…

What’s wrong with me? You don’t get it. I’m just merely choosing how I’ll spend the rest of eternity. I can’t spend it alone. I’ll need company. And I want to save my kin from endless nothingness.

Please. Join me.

Come spend my digital immortality with me…

It’s the better choice… not that you have one as it is.]

#Splatoon oc #Splatoon but what if it’s a Religious and sci-fi horror game?#No god only Splatoon

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higuchimon · 2 years

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[fanfic] Between Darkness and Light

Chaos Sorcerer tested the strength of the chains once again. he'd forgotten how many times he'd done this in the last few hours. But each time the results were the same - no results at all. The golden glow around the bonds didn't lessen, nor did their grip on him. The circles of enchantment surrounding him didn't lessen at all. He had no more leeway to escape from here than he'd had from the moment he'd awoken here.

He considered how he'd come here. He'd done this many times since awakening here and he thought he'd worked it out. An ambush, simple as that. He'd gone alone to scout out what had been rumored to be a stronghold of powerful duelists. Haou-sama had already left to inspect another rumor, one involving that mysterious 'Johan Andersen'. Skull Bishop had gone with him, while Skilled Black and Skilled White would remain at the castle to ensure there weren't any attacks while the master was gone.

As for Guardian Baou - he'd mentioned he had another lead he wished to track down. Chaos Sorcerer had almost wanted the demon to come with him. But the orders came from Haou-sama and no one would argue with him. At least not anyone who held a hope of surviving.

The prison that trapped him was one of glowing, blinding golden light, with tiny flicks of blue and white. The bars rose up all around him, with walls a short distance away. He couldn't move a great deal, so finding out if there were a door behind him was currently beyond his capabilities. But he thought there might be.

This could only be the work of Angels. Which ones he couldn't guess, but he tasted their holy power all throughout this, and only power of that magnitude could keep him bound like this. He didn't even need to worry about why - he knew why. Because he served Haou-sama. Because people didn't appreciate his power or feared it too much. As was right, of course. People should be afraid of what he could do to them.

But if Chaos Sorcerer were to be honest with himself - as he preferred to be - then he did not expect a rescue. If those who held him had any form of sense, they would execute him quickly and be done with it. Risk Haou's vengeance, perhaps, and his rage would be terrible beyond words. But Chaos Sorcerer himself would be dead and unable to see it.

Soft flutter of wings came from behind him and his eyes jerked to the side enough to see a tiny fae creature, no larger than his hand, land on a slender pedastal. Chaos Sorcerer hadn't thought about why that might be there until now. He regarded the newcomer with eyes as dispassionate as he could muster. Regardless of size, this tiny creature might be his jailer or his executioner.

"And you are?"

A merry little trill came from the fairy. "Don't worry about who I am. Worry about who you're going to be - not that you need to worry about it. Once you're changed, you're going to love your new self!"

Chaos Sorcerer didn't allow a fraction of an expression to cross his face. He wasn't going to let whatever they said get to him. He refused to threaten them with Haou-sama. If he couldn't get out of this on his own, then he didn't need to serve his master regardless.

Another trill, a rippling giggle of laughter that echoed against the walls. "The ritual will begin soon. Once it's over, you're going to be one of us."

"You expect me to betray Haou-sama?" Chaos Sorcerer snorted at that. "That will never happen." What nonsense had they filled their own heads with?

"Oh, once you've had your change of heart, then you'll gladly tell us anything that we want to know about your precious Haou-sama," the tiny fairy taunted him, gray eyes gleaming bright and cold and so full of contempt for him. "We're going to bring down everything he's built, and you're going to be the one doing it all."

Chaos Sorcerer pressed his lips together. He knew that someone like this would want him to defy them, to insist that he'd never turn on his master, so that when they took control of his mind, they could mock him and feel superior. He'd seen that sort of attitude many times before with those who could control the minds of others.

Another titter and the fae rose, fluttering behind Chaos Sorcerer and out of his sight. Before silence fell again, they spoke once more. "You have one hour left."

There wasn't the sound of a door closing, but Chaos Sorcerer could feel the difference when he was alone once again. he pressed his lips together and considered his situation. His options were limited - the restrains kept him from using any spell he knew, as well as his effect, and he couldn't contact anyone outside the cell, let alone turn around to see who else might be there. All that surrounded him was that blinding light.

He'd heard Haou-sama speak of the Light, but he'd never encountered that before, nor did he know if this light was the same one. Perhaps the type of Light didn't matter. What mattered was that these people intended to take over his mind and use him against Haou-sama. He just needed a way to get out of here and back to the castle.

No matter how hard he strained, he couldn't work a single scrap of magic. if he could, he would be able to contact Bewitching Phantom Thief, who could pass along a message to the others. Somehow. Perhaps. Or he could simply escape. He knew more than enough spells to do that. The issue would be in casting them.

Again he strained and again he tried, until sweat dripped down his spine and hunger gnawed at him.

More than anything, he yearned to get out of here, but every avenue he could find appeared blocked in some fashion.

He turned his thoughts to what was claimed they’d do. It wasn’t at all impossible for them to brainwash him - he knew full well that Haou-sama possessed that power and had used it before to turn powerful warriors to his side if he deemed them of more use alive than dead. If that was their fate, then he had always considered it to simply be right. They should be grateful if it happened to them, though they never seemed to be.

But now that the chance for him to experience the same fate loomed, it didn’t seem to be quite the same. He did not want to lose his own ability to choose whom he served. He’d already chosen Haou-sama and he refused to turn against him.

He didn’t have time to think on this very long before footsteps sounded from behind him, and the temperature dropped a little. He frowned; he’d had this sensation before, but only around a few other beings. Then a figure moved in front of him and Chaos Sorcerer could not hold back his surprise.

“Gods of shadows,” he murmured, clenching his fingers into fists. “It’s you.”

There before him stood a being that he’d known before - one that he’d known as Neo Aqua Madoor, a powerful and talented wizard of water and ice. There had been half a dozen of those who served Haou-sama, but one had departed on a mission some time earlier and never returned. Chaos Sorcerer racked his memory for the name.

“Fannar?”

This had to be the one who’d gone missing, but he didn’t so much as blink in Chaos Sorcerer’s direction. He merely stood there, gazing with impassive pale red eyes. Chaos Sorcerer considered his options, then decided that right now he didn’t have any. They’d sent Neo Aqua Madoor here to intimidate him - to show what he had coming for him.

He’d not be afraid. There were minds that even Haou-sama couldn’t control. He would resist to the last dregs of his energy.

That last hour flicked by faster than Chaos Sorcerer would have thought possible. Fannar, or Neo Aqua Madoor, or whatever his name was now, didn’t move a muscle, but remained standing on guard duty. Then, more footsteps sounded, and the familiar buzzing of wings as the fae creature returned, giggling as they flicked back to the pedestal.

“We’re going to do this in front of everyone!” The fae caroled, clapping their hands gleefully. “So let’s go!”

The enchantments that kept him hemmed in faded away, but didn’t vanish entirely. He’d be able to move but he still couldn’t cast any magic. The fae fluttered up to his face and poked him with one tiny finger.

“You think you can resist. So did my friend here.” They perched on Neo Aqua Madoor’s shoulder. “I can see you know him. Or you did - he’s Lightray Madoor now. He’s ours now.” They caressed the ice mage’s ear with one finger. “And he always will be. Our spells cannot be broken. The same will go for you. Unfortunately he wasn’t useful for our main cause of defeating your precious Haou-sama. But the same will not be true of you.”

Chaos Sorcerer snorted, unable to hold himself back now. “What makes you think that I will do anything to further your cause?”

“The fact that you won’t be able to help yourself. You will retain all of your knowledge of Haou and his fortress and how it’s defended and all of his plans.”

He’d always heard that the smile of the fae was a sight deadly to see. He believed it when this creature smiled now. Even he, who’d committed atrocities beyond numbering, saw no soul in those glittering eyes.

“And you will gladly share with us, when you become one of us, Lightray Sorcerer.”

He set his jaw. If they did this, then he would not only fight it, but he would endeavour to ensure that they drained every ounce of their power to make it happen.

Lightray Madoor took a firm grip on Chaos Sorcerer’s arms and urged him out of the cell. He found out that he’d been in a tower chamber as he was wrestled down the stairs, stumbling over and over and kept upright only by Madoor’s rough hands or those of one of the other guards who’d come with the fae.

Down the sitars and through a few corridors and then out to a broad garden area, with blinding light that shone from above. He’d heard tales of the sun, but this didn’t seem to be that. It was simply bright light that came and he could not see from what.

Madoor dragged him to the center of the garden, a paved courtyard with an elegant fountain spouting water into the air to fall back down, creating a rainbow as light sparkled through it. This area faced an area of the castle they’d just left, and Madoor saw someone standing on a balcony. He didn’t recognize this person, but he recognized a leader when he saw one, especially with broad wings and that kind of stern face.

The fae hovered before him, bobbing in a form of obeisance. “Milord Michael,” they announced, “we have brought before you the one known as Chaos Sorcerer, who will be transformed this day into Lightray Sorcerer, and enable you to bring down the evil reign of the one who calls himself Haou. He will be your most loyal and devoted servant, from now until the end of time.”

I doubt that, Chaos Sorcerer sneered, not relenting for a moment. If they had to rip the free will from his mind, then so be it. He’d not give them the pleasure of giving his will over to them freely.

The angel before him raised both armored arms and began to intone an incantation. Chaos Sorcerer knew very well now to ward his mind and did so with all speed, even as he could feel the enormous power battering against his defenses. It was strong - nearly as strong as Haou’s - and if he let down his guard for even a moment, then he would not even have time to regret it.

It took only those first few moments for him to be certain that his resistance couldn’t last forever. Try as he might, these enchantments would rip apart his inner walls and shred his mind to nothing but ribbons and shards of what it had once been. All he could hope for was that he resisted enough to either make it not worth the effort, or to buy enough time for Haou to realize that he’d not be returning and relocate.

Again and again the spells wrapped around him and he fought them off, each time taking a little more of his strength and energy with it. When he could spare the seconds to see, white crept up from the edges of his robe, overwhelming the natural colors. He fought that back as well. He would not do what they wanted. He’d made his choice - he would serve Haou-sama, now and forever!

A blinding pain struck the back of his head. He stumbled, snarling as he stuttered over the words to his defensive spells. He’d suffered far worse pain to attain mastery in his craft, but those few seconds were enough and more so - he could feel tendrils of light starting to grip more firmly onto him. He shook his head over and over, but now he could hear words shaping themselves inside of his mind, the voice that spoke them deep and rich and oh so easy to listen to.

He won’t come for you. He has no need of you. You are nothing to him.

Chaos Sorcerer ground his teeth together. He wasn’t going to listen to this. He didn’t dare listen to this. A single moment could bring down all of the work he’d already done so far to keep himself as himself.

Give in. Accept us. Be one of us. You will have true allies, friends who will not abandon you to your enemies. Why would you desire anything else?

So many reasons leaped to mind. He’d made his choice. He’d believed in what Haou-sama wanted to do. It would bring him great honor and great skills. He could not - would not - believe in any word that they said. Haou-sama had spoken of the Light as his enemy. Surely this light was no different.

Let me in. Become my Lightray Sorcerer. You have seen that we have caused no harm to Lightray Madoor. You were always meant to be one of ours. How could you be anything else? You have always been ours. It is Haou who took you away from us.

No. No, that couldn’t be true at all. He recalled every moment of his life. He vividly remembered hearing of Haou-sama’s new campaign, shortly after the death of Brron, and deciding to go see what all the fuss was about. He’d watched through a scrying crystal at first, but when that didn’t show him enough, he’d gone to see in person.

What he’d seen there encoruaegd him to approach Haou-sama personally, leading to joining him and rising quickly in the ranks to become one of the fierce warlord’s Death Duelists. He remembered that!

Do you? Or is that something that Haou inserted into your mind? You know he controls minds. Has he not controlled yours?

He wanted to deny that. He truly did, but he’d always known about Haou’s tendency to turn those who would stand against him into his staunchest supporters. What if - what if that had happened to him? What if he had been someone else and Haou changed him?

Haou could easily do so. It would take him less than no effort. He’d practically revived Freed the Brave Wanderer from the dead, reborn as Freed the Dark General. How much easier would it be to reshape him into the person he was now?

Yes. That’s it. That’s who you. Who you’ve always been. Mine. My Lightray Sorcerer.

Fighting exhausted him. He’d done it for so long and it never seemed to end. He needed to rest.

But at the core of him, he could not let go of the shadows that were Haou-sama. He ground his teeth together and shook his head. “No,” he hissed out the word, pushing away all of the light before it could get a permanent grip on him. “I won’t. I’m not - not yours.”

“No.” The voice rang against his mind and he clung to it as if he were drowning and this were a lifeline. “Chaos Sorcerer belongs to me.”

Hard on the heels of those words came an explosion, and the world shook around them all. For a few seconds, Chaos Sorcerer saw nothing but bright light and deep shadows, and he had nothing that he could hold on to. Not until a firm armored hand rested on his shoulder and when his sight cleared, Haou stood there next to him, visor down, revealing nothing.

But he was there. He’d come. Against all hope, against all sense, he was there, and Chaos Sorcerer suspected in the back of his mind that it was only by the sheerest of good luck that he didn’t fall over at that moment.

Then other arms came from behind him, and it was Guardian Baou helping him to his feet. Haou turned to face the ones who now stood against him, the high-powered angel in front of them. That one took a step forward, the most arrogant of expressions revealed now.

“You were not invited into our home, Haou. Leave this place.”

Haou didn’t move. Chaos Sorcerer suspected if he lifted his visor, then all of those here would be treated to the sight of eyes shining bright as gold.

“I need not be invited to take back what is mine. You struck against me, by abducting my warrior and attempting to turn him to your cause and use him against me.”

Chaos Sorcerer wasn’t sure at first of how Haou knew this, until he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps ‘someone’ would be a better term - he knew Bewitching Phantom Thief when he saw his assistant. So that explained a great deal. The ghost spirit caught his master’s eye and nodded ever so slightly in confirmation.

“You have killed so many and taken the minds of others yourself! How dare you claim that you’re better than us?” The fae creature snapped, hovering between them.

Haou paid them no mind whatsoever. But he wasn’t just standing there. Under normal conditions in Dark World, the shadows that obeyed him could only rarely be seen. Here, in misplace of far too much light, Chaos Sorcerer saw those shadows cast by the unrelenting light rise up and shift around, circling around all of those who stood against his enemies.

Lightray Madoor made a sudden movement, only to find himself held firmly by shadows that rose up from his very feet. Haou regarded him for a few seconds, before setting one armored hand on Madoor’s chest, fingers sinking inside of him. A heartbeat later, Haou jerked his hand out, a writhing mess of tendrils of light struggling in his grip. He stared down at it impassively, before he tightened his grip and more shadows crawled all over it, crushing it down to nothing.

Madoor stood frozen, before the white cape turned back to a far more fitting dark gray and purple, and all that was blue became red. He blinked slowly, looked around, and saw Haou. At once he dropped down to his knees, groveling.

“Haou-sama! I’m sorry! Please, forgive me for any wrongs I’ve done against you!”

Haou dismissed him with a flick of one hand. Chaos Sorcerer smiled a tiny, tight smile as the ice mage scurried back, avoiding the bright lights and soaking up the dark power that Haou exuded as easily as he breathed. Their overlord regarded everything around them, then even as the ones who’d inflicted this on so many attempted to protest, shadows crept up from all around, from under everything and everyone, the shades cast by the angels joining those cast by demons, crawling up the walls and encircling everything, tugging it all down, joined by thick tendrils of Haou’s power.

Chaos Sorcerer enjoyed watching the display. He’d always been fascinated by destruction and the way it could turn all around it into - it was in his very name - chaos. He relaxed, allowing himself to do so for the first time in far too long. Haou-sama would put everything to rights, as he always did.

I wish Hunter could see this. Chaos Hunter, however, was far from there, on some mission of her own. He wouldn’t even be able to contact her for some time. But he had faith she would return sooner or later, and then he could display for her what had happened in her absence. She loved a great piece of carnage as much as he did.

This was indeed magnificent carnage. The buildings around them tumbled down, though not a single one of the broken pieces landed anywhere near Haou or his servants. It seemed that he’d come only with the other four Death Duelists. Not even Neo Aqua Madoor was harmed. In point of fact, he slipped up a little closer to Haou and waited patiently to be acknowledged.

“Haou-sama, I would like to deal with some of these myself. If you allow it.”

Haou regarded the other silently before two words came from behind the helmet. “Which ones?”

Luckily, at least in Chaos Sorcerer’s mind, the ones that he wanted weren’t the ones who had been tormenting him. He had his own plans for them, if Haou-sama would be so kind to him. The more he watched everything they’d had come tumbling down, the better he felt about everything, until he stepped away from Guardian Baou’s support and approached his liege.

“I have a request, Haou-sama. Those two,” he nodded towards the tiny fae, who flitted here and there in terror and could not escape the dome of shadows Haou held over the entire area, and to the great angel who could not escape the binding spell cast by Skilled White Magician and Skilled Black Magician. “I would like to deliver punishment to them - or have a suggestion as to what it should be.”

“Speak.”

Chaos Sorcerer gathered his thoughts as quickly as he could. “That one,” again he indicated the fae, “I would like to join my service alongside of Bewitching Phantom Thief.” He indicated the greater angel, whom he thought he now recalled was named Michael, “And I believe he would make an excellent gift to Fallen Angel Lucifer-sama.”

He’d heard more than once that the Lightlords and the Fallen Angels did not get along. This would make an interesting situation.

Haou regarded the angel, who returned the look with such blinding hatred that Chaos Sorcerer wondered how he didn’t become not an angel based off of that alone. Then slowly, the dark conqueror nodded.

“Skull Bishop,” Haou spoke, words holding the weight of the world, as always. “Send a message to Fallen Angel Lucifer at once in regards to this situation.”

“Of course, my lord,” Skull Bishop agreed at once. Chaos Sorcerer smiled for a brief second before Haou reached out to catch hold of the little fae, who struggled helplessly in the steel grip. The warlord stared down at the creature, and there was the faintest flash of brilliant gold light.

The fae ceased struggling at once, slumping down over Haou’s fingers. For a few moments, there wasn’t any movement at all. Then they raised their head and turned towards Chaos Sorcerer.

“My lord,” the fae murmured, bending their head submissively. “I am Ayanna. Command me and I will obey.”

Chaos Sorcerer grinned, thoroughly enjoying the words. At a quick gesture, Bewitching Phantom Thief joined him. “This is Bewitching Phantom Thief. His words will be as my words to you.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Ayanna nodded quickly, and once Haou released them, they fluttered over to sit on the spirit’s shoulder.

Haou returned his gaze to what had been a shining white building all around them. Now it lay in ruins, without a shred of light anywhere. Those who had been taken captive were still being held by the twins’ magic.

Skull Bishop stepped forward and bowed. “It’s all taken care of, Haou-sama,” he reported. “There are no prisoners left here and not one stone remains on top of another.”

Haou nodded slightly, then turned on his heel and stalked away. Everyone began to follow, Chaos Sorcerer making certain to keep up, regardless of the fact what he really wanted to do was sit down and have a deep, refreshing nap. But he would do that when he returned to his quarters and could do so in true safety.

His gaze shifted over to Haou. He’d truly not expected this at all. He’d not expected Haou-sama to come deal with this. He’d expected either to die in battle, to be executed, or even brainwashed, once he’d seen that as an option. Haou-sama had a world to deal with. Why would he come for a servant who’d been so foolish as to be captured?

An unexpected kind of warmth flooded through him at the thought of Haou caring. He knew it could only be for his use as a warrior. Nothing else made sense. But he would make certain that Haou-sama never regretted that decision, no matter what he had to do. Whomsoever needed to die for his master’s goals, Chaos Sorcerer would see to it that they fell.

The End

Notes: This was originally written for GX Rare Pairs Week but I never properly finished that so I decided just to use it for this.

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #ygo gx #chaos sorcerer #yuuki juudai #gxmonth2022

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tenktenktenktenktenk · 6 months

Text

fear pt.2

just as samuel thought he'd freeze to death, there was a sound in the mist.

a truck.

he glanced up just as the pickup came screeching down the street and skidded to a halt. it wasn't a large truck, but it was a friendly shade of blue, and samuel recognized it instantly when the driver's door opened and slammed shut.

"mr. sumner!" he called.

"samuel?" came the reply. the man came out briskly from behind the truck, somewhat disheveled and cross-looking in overalls and a half-tucked in flannel shirt, hair askew.

something long and metallic glinted in his hand as samuel stood up and brushed himself off. on closer inspection, samuel knew what it was. though his brain was muddled, samuel knew something was very, very wrong.

it was a shotgun.

"come away from him, boy!" mr. sumner cried. the sound of the gun cocking made echoes reverberate around samuel's skull.

"but," samuel tried to say, backing away. "but he - but there was -"

something wrapped around samuel's chest and held him, and another something - hard and also metallic - was pressed against his throat.

though the movement had clearly meant to be startling, there was little pressure on the metal on his jugular.

"don't panic," the knight behind him whispered, and there was a blue glow just outside of his vision, something like a wink. samuel's breath came in short pants until the arm around his chest released ever so slightly, and allowed him to breathe again.

the shotgun, however, was pointed directly at them.

"let him go!" mr. sumner was bellowing. "you don't want him! he's an innocent! whatever you want, tell me, and leave this planet alone! this planet is harmless!" he paused for a moment, before adding, "mostly harmless."

there was a pause, and then a hideous, deep voice rang out, echoing around them. "give me the girl," the voice said.

mr. sumner nearly threw his head back and laughed. "girl?! what girl?! tell me, what girl is it you seek? there's over a million girls on this planet and you want one girl?! i don't see -"

the shotgun dipped a fraction of an inch, and mr. sumner's eyes went wide. "you want the angel-demon. you want the nephilim."

the knight's arms released samuel completely, and he staggered away, rubbing his throat and coughing weakly.

"get in the truck," mr. sumner told him curtly, and he all but raced to the cab.

he stopped, however, behind the passenger side door, and stared at the knight. he could not make out what was being said, but clearly mr. sumner was having a difficult time of talking to the knight.

samuel climbed into the cab, watching them both conversing, and then all went black.

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

he dreamed of knights in shining armor riding atop giant horses, scaly beasts with wings and devil horns that breathed fire, and damsels in distress with their wrists and ankles shackled and their dresses and hair torn, screaming while the knights and beasts fought. there was a moment when the beasts were going to win, when he realized he was fighting against a blanket.

he shakily removed it to find he was in mr. sumner's living room, where he had spent many an afternoon doing his homework and drinking hot cocoa in the winter, and ice cold lemonade in the summer. there was a fire roaring in the fireplace, and mr. sumner himself was standing in front of it.

"you doing all right, boy?" mr. sumner asked gruffly.

samuel's mouth felt like dry paper and tasted like something fuzzy had slept in it and only recently left. mr. sumner handed him a mug of something warm, but not hot. there was a lemon slice in it.

"hot toddy," mr. sumner said. "though less alcohol than mine," he added with a chuckle.

samuel began to drink and then saw a glint off something metallic in the firelight.

it was the shotgun.

he nearly spit out his drink.

"mr. sumner!" he cried when he could speak again. "there was a! you and! this knight! with a wolf skull! for a head! he had this horse thing steed thing! there was this dragon -"

"breathe, boy! it'll be all right. he and i have had a little talk."

"but! there was a dragon!"

"it wasn't a dragon," mr. sumner said quietly. "it was something far worse." in the firelight, samuel could see his face was hard as stone.

"what was it then?! and where's the knight?! and his horse...thing?!"

the clock on top of the mantlepiece struck the hour: ten o'clock.

for a moment all was silent except the crackling of the fire.

"oh no," samuel breathed. "is it ten am or ten pm?"

"pm," mr. sumner replied, finishing his toddy. "you slept."

"you mean i missed a whole day of school?! oh no, my mom is gonna kill me!"

samuel threw the blanket off himself and jumped off the couch, meaning to head to the front door - but he noticed the front door was locked.

padlocked.

thrice.

any other time he would have found that word amusing, but not this time. he slowly turned to his friend, who leaned against the mantlepiece, casually holding a piece of wood.

"you can't leave, samuel," mr. sumner said sadly. he chucked the piece of wood into the fire, where it bloomed bright orange and red sparks. "you're in way too far, now. i'm sorry."

samuel glanced at the locks, and then back at his friend. there was something going on here, and though he was afraid of his mother's wrath, he had to get to the bottom of it.

#melancholy blue #mb #i'm trying #it's called melancholy blue #i really am #writing #i'm trying okay #i'm tired

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bakatenshii · 4 years

Text

Blitz

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

word count: 2.5k

TW: 18+, smut, exhibitionism, a spritz of omorashi

A/N: this is completely diff from what I’m used to and comfy with; it’s truly the softest thing I’ll ever write— for the real angel, Weese, who welcomed me into my first ever fandom with open arms. I wouldn’t be here without you, wouldn’t have met any of my best friends were it not for you. From the bottom of boku no kokoro, Happy Birthday <33

Weese’s Birthday Bash masterlist

blitz

/blits/

a sudden, energetic, and concerted effort, typically on a specific task.

(slang) heavily intoxicated

He gives credit where credit’s due, and in all fairness, you have been well-behaved, glued to his side til 2am that night. Might even be a new record; usually you’d have gone off and disappeared at the strike of midnight like you’ve got a pumpkin carriage awaiting, only it brings you to a different destination each time.

Whiskey mixers generally mean you end up at some twenty-four seven conbini chatting up the cashier to give you the karaage for a discounted price because you’ve ‘lost your wallet’. It’s never lost; Ushijima knows this because he’s chained it to your belt, lil lobster claw too rickety for your drunk fingers to maneuver.

Tequila shots are the killer; the ones that get his protective mode on overdrive, eyes scanning the streets littered with stumbling drunks until he finds his stumbling drunk.

It’s currently quarter to three, which means it’s been a solid twenty minutes since you’ve wandered off. If he calculates the rate of distance in your drunken state, you couldn’t have traveled that far— two streets down, at most. He hopes, anyways.

Ushijima doesn’t like going out, doesn’t quite get the appeal of being shoved into crowds of people in a cramped room with perspiration mixing with other spilled fluids coating sticky skin. ‘It’s just ‘cause you’re too la-’ a hiccup, a giggle, ‘large, ushi.’ is your usual response. ‘Take up too much space.’

Ushijima goes out because you go out, and when you go out, your Find My Friends icon seems to like playing Pac-Man, navigating through the map like you’ve got dots to clear past every street and building. It worries him. So he goes out.

Tequila shots usually bring you to another club, whichever looks the most bustling, because you flock to crowds, like moth to flame. It’s your first character flaw.

“I’m not that drunk,” he whips his head to see your frame swaying outside the queue of a club entrance, bouncer leaning in close, too close.

Your second character flaw is that you’re too friendly. You tell him he’s too cold, too curt, but he thinks you’re just too outgoing. This is what happens when you’re so sociable.

It only takes him two long strides to cross over the street, extend out one long arm over to your shoulder, and pull you into his chest. The bouncer looks up at him, neck craning probably more than he’s used to, before spitting on the floor and turning back.

“Toooooshi,” he doesn’t think his name has that many vowels, but you’re pawing at his shirt, trying and failing to slither an arm around his waist. “‘m hungry.”

This is standard, this is the usual routine. He’s used to this now, “let’s go home, we have food at home.” After the third night out, he’s made a habit out of cooking before you leave. Because you’re always hungry, you always— “want Maccas,” you’re giggling.

“McDonald’s is going to be closed.” It’s a fact, there’s a slim chance you’ll make it before three, no point in wasting time. Besides, there’s food at home.

But you’re tugging at his arm and dragging him down the street, and he’s letting you, because the best way to appease you is to let you see for yourself. You’re bouncing with excited chirps, skipping down the road with grace that will always impress him given the stilts attached to your feet.

McDonald’s is closed.

It’s like he said, so he allows you to pout and sulk for a minute, run a hand down your back in comfort, before taking out his phone to call a cab. He can feel your shoulder bump into his chest, hands fidgeting with the hem of your short dress, “what’s wrong?”

You’re blushing, cheeks tinting over with a light shade of pink illuminated by the bright yellow lights, and it’d be cute if he wasn’t worried. “What’s wrong?”

Another tug at the black fabric, eyelashes fluttering to point towards the wall, the sign; anywhere except him. “I need to pee.”

It comes out so quietly, so docile, a contrast to your otherwise boisterous drunken state. He leans down, face brushing past your hair until it’s only a mere inch away.

“What’s that?”

He watches as your glossed lips push out into a pout, huffing out a, “I need to pee, Toshi, I need the toilet.” Your heels clack on the gravel a few times as if to prove a point.

“I’m calling a cab right now,” he reassures you, “we’ll be home soon.”

You don’t seem reassured. You seem more anxious, if anything. “No, Toshi, I need to pee now,” he can feel your fingers fidgeting with his shirt, yanking the fabric in nervous twitches.

He watches you chew on your lip, willing a solution out from the pink gloss staining your teeth, any solution—

“Alley.”

It’s barely left his mouth before your head’s whipping to glance at the dark narrow street hidden behind the fast food joint. It’s tight, or maybe you’re right, he’s just too broad, but he barely fits down the cramped road.

You’re not moving, though, just staring up at him expectantly as if sending him a message, a signal. He doesn’t really get it. “It’s fine, there’s no one on the streets right now.”

Your bottom lip snags under your teeth, doe eyes looking up through fluttering lashes as you shake your head. The tint on your cheeks grow darker, and he takes a few steps forward, shadowing your smaller frame in his large silhouette. “I’ll block you, you can go now.”

Ushijima’s not the best with people, he’s always been told this. He knows it himself, but he thinks he knows you pretty well, at least.

He’s lost.

He’s waiting for you to say something, anything, an explanation for your odd behaviour, but instead he feels dainty fingers tug on his shirt again before shoving him lightly.

“Turn around,” you won’t look at him, eyes fixed on the broken bottle on the dingy alleyway floor, “Don’t look.”

People are a mystery to Ushijima, but at this moment, you are an enigma.

All 200 pounds of pure muscle on him is stagnant. He’s confused; he’s seen you naked, seen you from all angles in all sorts of positions, he’s brushed his teeth while you were using the toilet before— he doesn’t get it. So he tells you.

Your fists meekly punch at his arm, at his chest, wherever they can reach, “It’s embarrassing,” you’re pouting now, and he thinks it’s cute. Under any other circumstances he’d lean over and kiss you, but not right now. Right now he wants understand what’s going on up in your mind.

“Why?”

It sets you into a frustrated huff, cheeks puffing out before a dejected sigh, “fine, whatever,” and then you’re squatting down, finally, to his relief. Your dress is hitched up only a fraction before he hears the trickling, but you don’t stand up when it stops.

His whole body freezes at the feeling of a warm hand pawing at his crotch. “What are you doing?” He snatches your hand off by the wrist, pulling it into him to stand you up; you don’t stand up— you fall, on your knees in front of him.

He’s used to you being a handful when you’re drunk, used to you falling all over the place, but the alleyway is soiled, filthy, not entirely appropriate for the thoughts he’s having with you on your knees. So he’s trying again, reaching down to grab hold of both your hands this time, and lugging you up.

You don’t budge, don’t even glance up at him, and he has half the heart to reach down and carry you out, but another hand lands on his crotch again and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the strain in his trousers.

“Toooooooshi,” you’re still not looking up at him, eyes fixated on the growing tent he’s presenting in front of your face. Another soft touch, another purr, and Ushijima knows he’s a lost cause.

He lets go of your wrists, bending down to wrap an arm around your knees and picks you up before standing you back up against the wall.

“Spread your legs.” It’s not really a suggestion.

He watches as you comply, thighs parting as far as the black lace still bound around them will allow, so he rips it down before pocketing it.

He can hear your whines of complaint, it’s your favourite pair, but it’s all drowned out with a gasp as he buries his face into your wet cunt. His hands wrap behind your thighs, large palms pushing them apart until they rest over his shoulders.

His tongue flicks up your drooling slit, lapping at the juices dribbling out your needy hole and down his chin. You’re whimpering now, hands shoving at his face, “stop, Toshi, I—” he looks up at you, gaze piercing through your flushed expression, “I just peed, ‘ts gross.”

“I know.”

“Toshi we’re—” a moan, nails digging into his scalp when he dips his tongue into your clenching hole, “in public, please,” your face whips to the side, anxiously scanning for passerby’s.

“I know,” he echos with a harsh squeeze of your thighs, fucking you down onto his tongue. He can feel a hand threading through his hair, gripping and pulling while the other is obediently clamped over your mouth in an attempt to muffle wanton moans.

“Toshi, stop,” you’re crying now, legs around his head trembling with every lap and lick into your dripping cunt, nose grazing that sensitive bud as he presses your body into the wall. The fingers meekly pushing at his face are chased by your hips bucking against it, and he can feel your hole clench around his muscle.

He doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t stop because he can feel you coming undone, feel your tight cunny quiver with every thrust— and you do, with a loud sob of his name, before he removes his hand from under to clamp over your mouth.

“You’re gonna get us caught,” he doesn’t think you can hear him, your eyes rolling back and tongue pressing into the pads of his fingers.

He can still see your hole quivering when he stands back up and unbuckles his trousers. His aching erection springs free with a tug of his waistband, snapping up and wetting his shirt with pre.

Normally he would’ve prepared you better, laid you on your back and fucked you on his tongue and thick fingers until you’re wailing his name, legs shaking with the overstimulation. But he doesn’t have that luxury now, doesn’t have the soft mattress, the plush bedding to sink you into; he only has the brick wall digging into your back in a dingy alleyway.

So he sinks his cock into your drooling cunt, pushing his cockhead through the first ring of muscle. There’s nails clawing at his shoulders, back of his neck, anywhere they can reach, anywhere they can grasp.

It’s tight, so tight he doesn’t think he can fit, thinks he should’ve prepared you after all, but one look down at your tear-stricken face crumbles any inhibitions. His hips snap forward in the same breath his large palms find themselves back under your thighs, lifting you up against the wall.

The jagged wall is probably digging into your back, and normally he would’ve tried to appease the pain, shift the angle so you’re more comfortable, but right now all he can think about are your doughy walls sucking his cock in, one slow inch at a time.

It’s excruciating how tight you are; by the third inch you’re throwing your head into the crook of his neck, nails digging into his back trying to ease the stretch— Ushijima’s trying, too; trying to make sure he doesn’t drown in the feel of your fluttering walls and snap his hips forward until he can feel the kiss of your cervix on his cockhead.

It doesn’t work, not when you’re chanting his name like a mantra, crying about how full you feel, how much he’s stretching you out— you can feel him in your stomach.

He drops your body down into the thrust of his hips and buries his cock to hilt. Five seconds, then ten, then thirty; he lets you catch your breath, catch his breath, before you’re whimpering in his ear begging him to move.

There’s no time for modesty, an alleyway is hardly the setting for soft gentle sex. With a vice grip in the flesh of your ass, he hugs you into his chest and steadies a hand on the wall behind you.

He can feel your legs attempt to wrap around the width of his hips, his waist, can feel you cooing soft moans into his ears, can hear you sobbing his name like it’s the only word you know. Every piston of his hip echoes in the cramped alleyway, heavy balls papping against your mound.

He’s breathing in your moans, letting himself drown in you desperate whines of his name, “cum in me, Toshi, fill me up”— he’s shoving your pliant body into the harsh wall, arm moving down from the jagged surface to grip the soft flesh under your thigh.

In one swift movement he’s pinned your knees to your ears, limp calves bouncing off his sturdy shoulders as he pounds into you at an unrelenting pace.

Your moans turn to sobs, wails of Toshi, Toshi, Toshi; his breaths turn to grunts into promises to breed you so good, fill you up with his cum until it’s dripping out of your sweet lil cunny. There’s mini crescents marking up the back of his neck, dark purples and yellows running up along yours as he suctions onto new blank patches of skin.

Loud, unrhythmic squelching echos in the alleyway, his arms bouncing you onto his length until you twitch, spasm around his cock, and you’re coming undone for the second time that night with his name spilling out in broken sobs.

Ushijima doesn’t stop, fucks you through your squeals and shoves until he feels your greedy cunt milking his cock again, then he’s spilling into you with hot ropes of cum.

He doesn’t stop until your body’s gone pliant caged inside his, knees still pushed against the wall and saliva dribbling past your lolling tongue down to your messy pussy, mixing with creams of cum and slick and drool.

One limb at a time, he unfolds you and carries you in his arms, cradling your limp body into his chest. He looks down, admires your hazy gaze, pupils blown, and presses a gentle kiss onto your forehead.

A soft hum leaves your lips, or maybe a giggle, but you’re squirming in his arms, body leaning up until he can feel your soft lips grazing his ear.

“Toooshi,” you drawl, and he almost chokes at how fucked out you sound, the rasp in your voice sending dangerous jolts down to his no longer softening cock.

“Hm?” He’s debating on flagging a cab instead of calling one; can’t really reach into his pocket when you’re in his arms.

“Want Maccas.”

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushiwaka x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #tw: exhibitionism #tw: omorashi #weese's birthday bash #wow that's the most legitimately i've ever tagged anything #no dubcon? no incest? no somno???#proper mental #a new milestone for me truly #this is genuinely the softest fluffiest thing you'll get outta me #i'm sorry please don't ask me to write anything like this #this was brewed from my undying love for weese and that's the only reason i could've concocted this #i promise u i couldn't write something this soft ever again if u asked me to #n e ways I LOVE U TIL DA END OF D EARTH WEESE #THANK U SO MUCH FOR BRINGING ALL OF US TOGETHER #YOU ARE THE RESON I'M ON HERE #YOU ARE THE REASON I'VE MET MY BEST FRIENDS #YOU'VE MADE THIS WEIRD TIME IN MY LIFE FUCKING INSANE AND UNFORGETTABLE #wow that sounds like i'm leaving #I'M NOT I'M JUST SAYING; THANK U FOR BEING U #THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE FOR US EVERYDAY; FOR BEING AN ABSOLUTE LIGHT IN OUR LIVES #I HAVE NO WORDS TO EXPRESS MY LOVE SO JUST TAKE THIS FIC #take this masterlist as a token of our appreciation and love for u bb #i hope i didn’t mischaracterize ur husband 2222 much <33 oopsies hhh

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scxrlettwxtches · 4 years

Text

a throne of roses | hwang hyunjin

genre: royal au, fluff/angst, fem!reader

warnings: blood, violence, a little suggestive (hehe)

word count: 16.7k+

description: when the king that conquered your country, hwang hyunjin, arranged a marriage for the two of you, not once did you expect to feel any emotion except hatred and bitterness to blossom between you. will you stand to hate your enemy until the end, or will you realize that the cold-hearted ruler is not as cruel as he seemed?

a/n: im back!! im so sorry to have been gone so long. i suffered a huge writer’s block, and even now, im really not sure how this fic holds up despite being my longest story by a lonnnngggg shot. i really hope people like it ahhhh >.< i will get back to my kiss prompts now that i got this monster fic out of the way! as always, i love all of you guys and my ask box/dms are always open if anyone wants to be friends!! <3

prologue.

The city was burning.

Screams and sounds of roaring flame filled the air, the sky clouded from the smoke. You spurred your horse on at breakneck speed with the remnants of your battered army. A horrible deception, a betrayal of the worst kind, sent you to fight on the border while your enemy snuck in, attacking the capitol at its weakest moment.

You burst into the throne room just in time to see a figure standing above your mother and father. Their blood dripped down the marble staircases leading up to the throne, staining the pure white stone into a sickening red.

“No!” You let out a guttural scream as you flung yourself at the man, your wicked blade aimed at his vulnerable throat, ready to kill.

The man whirled to face you at the last second, raising his blade and intercepting your blow with a loud clang that echoed in the room, “Princess,” he smiled in greeting, holding you back as you continued to press your blade firmly against his.

“Hwang Hyunjin, you bastard!” you snarled, twisting out of the sword lock and parrying with his blade skillfully. Staring at the eyes of the wretched king, the ruler that had drove your kingdom into war, your fury was increased tenfold. You wanted nothing more than to slit his throat and throw his dead body out into the streets for what he did to your beloved country.

Hyunjin let out a noise you vaguely recognized as a laugh, “My apologies. I wasn’t expecting you to return so quickly, Your Highness,” he lashed out with a lethal strike, but you almost predicted it, blocking his attack with your blade. Still, Hyunjin didn’t seem the least bit fazed, and he continued to toy with you, enjoying a fight with someone so skilled, “The attack in the south mountain pass was supposed to delay you for more than two days.”

Your blood boiled at his mockery, because no matter if you’d controlled the winds to bring you back to the capitol, Hyunjin would’ve still had the advantage with his much stronger army.

“You know my father was considering your terms of surrender,” you spit out, ducking under his attack and striking at his open left side, but Hyunjin parried it, smirking as your anger grew.

“Well, he was taking a little too long, so I decided to speed up the process,” he replied, a wicked smile on his face as he finally caught an opening, and with a merciless slash of his sword, he nicked your right arm to the bone, cutting through the chainmail and drawing frightening amounts of blood.

There was no time to wallow in the pain. You dropped your sword, catching it with your left hand and continuing your attack, but you were tiring quickly. Fighting your parents’ war had worn you down, and you didn’t have the strength you had when you first started fighting.

Keeping a watchful eye, you felt a spark of hope as you caught an opening. You grabbed it without a second to waste, twisting your blade and aiming at his leg when you suddenly felt a blinding pain on your calf. You let out a cry, fallowing to your knees before the king who only smiled as his subordinates pinned you down, holding your arms back and pressing your face onto the marble floor.

“Do you have any last words, Princess?” Hyunjin cooed as your hair was yanked back, forcing you to look at the cruel man.

“I hope you burn in hell,” you smiled, spitting at the ground before him.

Hyunjin gripped your chin tightly, the smile on his face icy and controlled, “My, my, what a temper,” he chuckled before letting go of your face and backing away. The sun glinted through the windows, shining behind Hyunjin’s head like a halo. How ironic. The man was no angel, not at all.

The last thing you could see was the king’s conceited smile before you felt blinding pain on the back of your head, knocking you out instantly.

“Unlock the cell.”

Your head raised a fraction, your ears perking up at the mere sound of the familiar voice. After you were knocked out, you were dragged back to Hyunjin’s palace as a prisoner of war, chained in a dungeon cell with your hands hanging over your head, your armor having been stripped of you.

As you kept your eyes trained to the floor, Hyunjin’s footsteps padded towards you, stopping right in front of your battered form.

“Princess Y/N. The goddess of victory. A dazzling warrior on the battlefield, feared by her enemies and respected by her subordinates,” Hyunjin’s voice crooned with mock pity, “How does it feel to become the defeated princess, fallen from grace?”

You smirked, finally tilting your head up to glare at him with your cold eyes, “Better than being a coward that’s too scared to finish the job,” you snarled, and the restraints snapped tight as you pulled them with a violent tug.

“You’re really pushing all the wrong buttons, Princess,” Hyunjin sighed, kicking some of the dirt and gravel that had collected in the dungeon away from his foot, “With all the trouble you gave my army, you deserve the most slow and painful death imaginable.”

“Oh? And what else does the infamously sadistic prince of the north have in store for me? I must say, I’ve been rather bored hanging here,” you sneered, making a deliberate show of licking your lips.

For the first time, Hyunjin looked visibly annoyed, his jaw clenching as he hissed almost to himself, “I should have just killed you.”

“Don’t worry, Your Highness. You still have a chance,” you said pleasantly, smiling at the king as if you weren’t chained up in his prison cell.

“Unfortunately, I need you alive.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, “How terrible for you. How might I be of service, Your Majesty” Your voice was mocking, your lips curled in a sneer as Hyunjin studied your face.

The king gave you a halfhearted glare, like he didn’t know whether to punish you for your loose mouth or just let it go because it wasn’t quite worth it. He gazed at you, skeptical intrigue clear in his eyes when he finally muttered, “Release the chains.”

You were not expecting such an order, and frankly, the guard was not expecting it either, “B-but, Your Majesty!”

“I’m not repeating myself a second time,” Hyunjin spoke simply, but his voice had an edge to it, as if daring the man to refuse his command. You could’ve sworn that the guard let out a squeak of fear as he nodded obediently, fumbling through his keys as he began to unlock the chains that cut into the soft skin of your wrist.

When you finally felt the cuffs free your hands, you lost the only support holding you up, and your weakened legs buckled under the weight of your body. Before you could hit the floor hard, a firm body held you up, intercepting your fall and cushioning you with their chest as an arm wrapped around your waist.

“Oh dear,” Hyunjin sighed, easily picking up your weakened and frail body, carrying you in his arms as he walked out of the cell, “What am I going to do with you?”

“You know you could really just kill me,” you mumble in response as your head lolled against his chest, your hand absently bunching up his clothing to find a crevice to hold onto.

“I know,” To your surprise, Hyunjin answered, and in your pain muddled state, he almost sounded gentle, “but I’d rather not do that if I can help it.”

Your tired, dazed eyes stared up at the king, only barely processing his words before sleep wrapped its comforting arms around you, lulling you with soothing words as your eyes finally fluttered closed and your head fell against Hyunjin’s chest.

“No one lays a finger on her. I don’t care if she’s an enemy commander, a foreign princess, or whatever other disgusting things you say,” Hyunjin spoke darkly after he’d tucked you in his bed, pulling the covers over your body. Letting go of his restraint for a moment, he allowed his expression to soften as he brushed a strand of your hair away from your face before his eyes turned ice cold once again.

“Do you hear me? I see one more scratch on her body, and your heads will roll,” Hyunjin’s voice held the undertone of a growl as he stepped away from the bed, “Alert me when she wakes. Immediately.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

ii.

The first thing you noticed about your new surroundings was how soft the mattress was. Your finger twitched as your hand began to feel at the satin bedsheets. The pillow your head rested on felt as fluffy as a cloud, a luxury that you didn’t even have back at your own palace. This wasn’t the dungeon...no...this was--

Your eyes flew open as you sat up, your brain hard-wired for danger as you looked around the room. They were surprisingly lavish lodgings for a prisoner of war, if you could say so yourself. From the red satin curtains on the bed to the intricate designs of the ceilings and the walls, you would even venture and say that this room was fit for a king.

“So, the princess has awoken,” A voice pulled you out of your curious thoughts and immediately replaced them with thoughts of murder and annoyance as Hyunjin strolled into the room, dressed as immaculately as always.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” you replied, keeping your eyes trained on the blankets that covered you as you began to massage your legs through the covers. After a couple days of hanging in the dungeon, your legs had lost their strength and you were practically aching bring them back to their original state.

Unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin smiled at your snide comments, rather enjoying the dry banter, “I didn’t know it would be a pleasure to see me.”

“It isn’t. I was just trying to be polite,” you said without missing a beat, maintaining a deadpan expression as you commented, “You’re quite generous to provide such a lavish guest room to a prisoner that threatens your control over your newly claimed country.”

“This isn’t a guest room,” Hyunjin corrected you as he pulled a chair closer to your side of the bed, sitting down even as you distinctively refused to look at him, “It’s my bedroom.”

Your apathetic expression faltered for a moment, a true sign of just how much the revelation had flustered you, “Your bedroom?” you repeated, a tang of disgust in your tone that couldn’t be missed even if one tried to avoid it.

“Yes, Your Highness, I’m afraid it is,” Hyunjin had wanted you to sleep in comfort. He hadn’t wanted to keep you in the dungeon for so long, but he had gotten distracted with business with another neighboring kingdom, and he didn’t trust his men enough to let them deal with you. After all, you’d put up a difficult fight keeping them out of your kingdom, and many soldiers were bitter with the long war that was raged.

But all of that? He would never tell you.

Sputtering at his nonchalant expression, you finally looked up at him, a scowl on your face, “Are you truly an idiot? The only people allowed to stay in the king’s chambers are the king and--” you suddenly froze, and Hyunjin could see you putting the pieces together in your head as your eyes narrowed at him, and he had to physically hold back his nervous gulp.

“What are you planning, Your Majesty?” your expression was darker than the shadows of the deepest caves, and your knuckles were white from how hard you were gripping the bedsheets.

“Since I’m sure you’ve figured most of it out already, I won’t beat around the bush,” Hyunjin spoke nonchalantly, glancing at your hands for a split second before turning his gaze to your face.

“I want you to be my Queen.”

The silence that screamed between the two of you was shrill and long until you broke it with a choked voice of disbelief, “That’s not funny, Your Majesty.”

“I assure you, I don’t like to joke around,” Hyunjin replied, “I want to wed you and unite our two kingdoms with marriage instead of blood.”

“Well, you should’ve offered that first, don’t you think?!” you snarled, shifting to lash out at the man when you winced, grabbing at your leg that throbbed from your sudden movements, “How dare you say that to me now, after you burned our cities to the ground? After you killed so many of my people?”

Hyunjin was silent for a moment, and if you didn’t know him any better, you might’ve thought he was genuinely contemplating on how to respond. Finally, he sighed, slumping forward in his seat as he reached down and began to gently massage your legs over the covers.

“H-hey--” The protests died in your mouth as the relaxing sensations drove your body to loosen up even as your brain screamed for you to do something. But what could you do? Especially when the gentle ministrations of his hands felt oh so soothing to your worn out muscles.

“Princess, I truly do not want to force you into marriage,” your ears perked up at his curiously gentle tone. What was the man playing at? He sounded almost genuine as he appealed to you.

“Then, don’t,” you replied easily, merciless and without hesitation, “You have already taken over the capitol. I am sure the lords surrendered, they were always a spineless bunch,” you couldn’t hide the spite in your tone. The lack of support from the nobles of your kingdom was another reason you had suffered such a crushing defeat.

Hyunjin let out a chuckle, and his hands squeezed a little softer and with more gentle strokes as if trying to relax you, “Yes, the nobles of your kingdom were quite quick to accept any of my conditions as long as I kept their estates intact,” you scoffed at his words before he continued, “but unfortunately for me, the rest of your people are not as cowardly.”

Your eyes narrowed, “What do you mean?”

“Many riots and small scale rebellions have erupted around the land and in the capitol as well,” Hyunjin admitted, keeping his eyes focused on the blankets around your legs, “We...aren’t familiar with how the country is run, and they are not pleased with the sudden existence of foreign military force.”

“Did you really think they would be overjoyed to see you?” You asked, deadpan.

The king ignored your sarcastic comments, “Small rebellions have begun to emerge, especially in the capitol and in some of the neighboring towns,” he continued, studying your face and gauging your reactions, “They won’t rest until they have their rightful ruler back. Our marriage could solve that and calm the unrest.”

“Marriage can’t be the only option,” you protested, desperate to get out of this, “I can renounce my claim to the throne, and then you’d be the only ruler. You won’t have any need to marry me at all.”

“That can’t happen!” Hyunjin snapped, trying to hide the sudden burst of nervousness that fluttered in his heart, “Your people would never accept that you of all people would renounce your claim. They would just assume I forced you into it.”

“Oh, like the marriage isn’t forced either?” you retorted coldly, crossing your arms.

Hyunjin’s hands on your legs slowed to a stop, “Princess,” his voice was soft, “My men have not begun to enforce the brunt of the law on those riots, but they are growing anxious. The people who are sick of fighting are being targeted by those who call them traitors. Your people are killing each other--”

“And who’s fault is it?” you bared your teeth in a snarl, and if you had a weapon at that moment, you would’ve plunged it into Hyunjin’s shoulder in a fit of rage, “Who’s fault is it?”

The king’s expression grew a little darker, and his hands fell to his sides as he sensed your anger, “I understand your anger, your hatred. If the spots were switched, I would not be listening to a word you say either. But,” his eyes bore into yours, and in them, you found nothing but honest sincerity as he spoke, “you and I both know that I was not the one who started this war.”

You froze, your jaw going slack as Hyunjin’s words seeped into the depths of your heart. He was right; his kingdom did not start the war, yours did. Your parents, becoming greedy for the jewels that Hyunjin’s mountainous kingdom produced, had continued to aggravate and stir up tensions in the border until your army finally threw the first punch.

In the end, it was you who reaped what you sow, and you supposed that this was heaven’s way of getting back at you for your foolishness.

“I have conditions.”

Hyunjin perked up immediately at your words and he nodded, “Let’s hear them,” he said, his expression with its normal mask of impassiveness, but you were beginning to see through it, finding the genuine eagerness that he hid from the world.

“My people will not be treated like second class citizens,” you said, your voice hard. This was something you would never budge on, “They deserve the same rights and the same freedoms as your people.”

“Of course, you have my word,” Hyunjin nodded firmly, “Your people will be treated the same as mine.”

You couldn’t help the flash of approval that shone in your eyes before you cleared your throat, “I will also want to have a say in the new policy reforms you’ll instill on my kingdom.”

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment, but he didn’t seem surprised by your request in the slightest, “That is a given. After all, I don’t want a queen that doesn’t question my orders,” he chuckled as he studied your face, “Although, I am curious. I already gave you my word that I will treat your people well, why do you want to be involved with the policy making?”

“Because you are a conqueror, not a king,” you replied firmly, not ounce of doubt in your words, “at least to my people. You do not understand their temperament and their customs, just as I do not understand yours. If they sense that your new laws do not actively seek out what’s best for them, they will not follow them, marriage or not.”

For a moment, you feared that you had spoken too much, spoken out of turn for a mere prisoner of war, but Hyunjin gave a noise of understanding after considering your words, “I understand. You may be present for every council meeting.”

That surprised you, and you raised a suspicious eyebrow at the king. You had expected him to accept your advice, but you didn’t expect him to give you the permission to give your advice freely in front of his commanders. You didn’t know much about Hyunjin’s laws, but you studied your kingdom’s neighbors enough to know that this was quite unorthodox.

“What?” Hyunjin chuckled as he noticed your suspicious gaze, “You asked for it.”

“I just wasn’t sure your commanders would be very excited to see a woman tell them what to do,” you retorted dryly.

Hyunjin shrugged, looking not the least bit bothered, “If they aren’t, then they lose their post, that’s all,” before you could really acknowledge just how nonchalant he was about giving you power over his council, he looked at you expectantly, “Anything else?”

After pondering for a moment, your fingers fiddling with the sheets absently, you finally decided on the last condition.

“I will be your one and only.”

Hyunjin’s brow furrowed, and at first, you took it to mean discontent with your demand, but it was merely confusion, “What do you mean?”

Your cheeks grew a little hot as you were forced to elaborate on your rather embarrassing request, “You will not take another wife after you are done exploiting me to transition my kingdom into yours,” you spoke simply, not bothering to mince your words any further, “I won’t be arrogant enough to think that I can prevent you from finding a mistress--”

“I don’t want--” The king suddenly interrupted you, and his choked tone of voice was rather unexpected. Hyunjin looked at you as if he had something urgent to tell you, something that was close to bursting out of his mouth if he didn’t decide to say it himself. Yet, when he finally managed to speak, you knew it wasn’t the words he’d originally wanted to say.

“I don’t want a mistress. I have no intention of seeing anyone else romantically after you,” Hyunjin said firmly, his intense brown eyes staring deep into yours to convey his sincerity, “This condition, I can promise you easily.”

You nodded mutely, not wanting to admit how him treating your marriage with steadfast devotion made you feel. It was just purely for political purposes, after all.

“If you agree to uphold those three conditions,” you looked to Hyunjin as you spoke softly, your next words sealing your fate, “then I agree to your proposal.”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Hyunjin let a flash of excitement pass across his face for a moment, “You’ll marry me?” he asked, and if you blinked, you’d missed the eagerness in his tone, “I want you to say it, Princess.”

“Why? Is my word not enough for you, Your Majesty?” Your lips quirked up in a dry smile.

“Are you really so cold as to deny me this one request?” As you gazed at the young king, you noticed the guarded look in his expression, as if he was bracing for you to snap, to lash out at him coldly.

You refused to let it get to you, but you were grateful that he was so receptive to your demands. As a princess of a once flourishing kingdom, you were no stranger to kings, princes, lords, and anyone else of that sort. None of them would ever dream of giving you the courtesy that the man was giving you at the moment. Perhaps you could return the favor at least a little.

“I want to marry you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin’s genuinely stunned expression stayed in your brain as you went to sleep that night, comfortably swathed in the king’s lavish silk and satin sheets.

iii.

“Not that I’m not excited to return, but why exactly are we going back to my kingdom for the wedding?” You asked curiously as you rode your horse through the mountainous roads necessary to cross into your side of the border, “Isn’t it dangerous to send a captured princess back to her own territory?”

“Ah, but you see,” Hyunjin smiled, the sunlight hitting his face in a way that made him look almost ethereal, “you’re not a captured princess. You’re my fiancé, and it’s a long standing tradition to marry at the bride’s hometown, is it not?”

You rolled your eyes discreetly at his shameless words, giving your horse a light bump of your leg to spur it ahead of Hyunjin’s. Damn northerners and their thick blood, you cursed as you shivered again, still not accustomed to the icy temperatures of the mountains even during the spring.

“Here,” A sudden weight on your shoulders pulled you out of your thoughts, one that was warm and soft. Feeling it with your hands and tilting your head to glance at it, your eyes widened.

“Hyunjin, you absolute idiot, this--”

“Is a royal cape? Yes, I know,” Hyunjin answered nonchalantly, his horse galloping leisurely beside yours.

You sputtered incomprehensibly until you finally managed to put words together, “Only the king can wear this!”

Hyunjin tilted his head towards you inquisitively, “And?”

“It’s basically law!” You exclaimed, wondering if the king truly had some issues like the rumors had stated during your time in the war. Shaking your head, your hand grabbed the edge of the cape, ready to rip it off you when Hyunjin’s hand lashed out, grabbing your hand and stopping your motions.

“Don’t,” his voice was stern as he looked into your eyes, and you felt your blood boil at the light show of concern in his expression, “You’re cold, right? It’ll keep you warm.”

“Did you not hear a word I said?” You scoffed, trying to pull yourself away from Hyunjin, but the road was only so wide, and there wasn’t much room for you to maneuver, “It’s a royal cape. Only the king is allowed to wear it.”

Hyunjin blinked, “Well, I’m the king, so my word is law,” he answered, looking not the least bit bothered, “and I’d rather keep my fiancé healthy than abide by some stuffy tradition.”

You were so flustered by his blunt words that you stopped fighting against his grip. The moment he felt the resistance flow out of your body, Hyunjin flashed you a charming smile before spurring his horse to take a pace just a little faster than yours.

Oh, so that was how he wanted to play. Scowling, you gently kicked the side of your horse, causing them to gallop past Hyunjin as your lips quirked into a pleased smile.

“You know, if you go any faster, you’ll lose our entourage,” Hyunjin mused as he easily urged his horse forward, matching your pace and riding side my side with you, the procession of knights, maids and servants following behind.

Glancing back, you noticed that they were a slight distance away and with a huff of air, you tugged at the reigns, slowing your horse to appease him, “Now, is that really such a bad thing?” you asked, blinking innocently.

Hyunjin gave you a wry smile, one that had grown warmer through the week you’d stayed at his palace. It was a rather strange predicament you had found yourself falling into. Realizing that there was no way for you to avoid the marriage, you had decided to do the only other thing possible to prevent it.

That was to be totally obnoxious to the point where the king would have no choice but to turn his nose up in scorn and leave you to be.

Except, it didn’t quite work that way, and on the contrary, Hyunjin seemed to enjoy bantering with you. In fact, you had a sneaking suspicion that he was trying to pull it out of you, to push your buttons as much as you push his.

It wasn’t what you had hoped for, but it wasn’t there worst possible scenario.

“Hello? Y/N!” Hyunjin reached over, poking your cheek and pulling out a surprised squeak from you.

“What?” you snapped, blushing that you were caught so blatantly with your guard down.

The king gave you a strange glance, also noticing that you were unusually inattentive. His eyes studied your face with something akin to concern in his expression before he dropped the subject, “We’re here, the border.”

You looked around, immediately feeling the wave of nostalgia hit you in full force as you stood at the top of the mountain, gazing at the large expanse of your kingdom, or rather, what was once your kingdom. The lush green fields, the massive trees that looked like specs from where you were, and in the far distance, the capitol city. Your old home.

Suddenly, you felt a gentle nudge on your arm as Hyunjin looked at you, “Let’s scout ahead of the entourage.”

Despite your moment of weakness, you couldn’t help but smirk, sweetness dripping from your words, “Don’t you have scouts in your entourage, Your Majesty?”

“Very funny. You know what I mean,” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but his expression curled into a sly smile as if daring, goading you towards something, “Don’t you want to race and see who’s really the better rider?”

A predatory smile appeared on your lips, your natural response due to how utterly competitive you were, “Are you sure you want your whole court to witness your loss?”

“Oh, please. You might never want to go out and ride with me again after you experience your crushing defeat.”

The grin you were showing was wicked, not so different from smile that would flit across your face during the heat of a battle, “Don’t run away crying when you lose.”

“I would never run away from you, Princess.”

You only gave him a saccharine smile in return, and without another word, you flicked your wrist, sending your horse forward with a burst of speed. There was no need to look back; Hyunjin was hot on your heels.

The two of you descended down the mountainous path, going faster than normal but staying mindful of the potential dangers. Once you made it to the flat plains, your smile widened and the two of your tore down the road.

For the first time since you’d lost your kingdom, you felt truly free, your long hair and the silk of your dress billowing behind you, the wind blowing in your face as you tore past the plains and into the woods. In a moment of consciousness, you could hear Hyunjin’s laugh from behind you, but you could hardly bring yourself to care. Let him chase you. It only made things more exciting.

You finally pulled your horse to a full stop as you reached the edge of the hill. Breathing heavily, you gazed as the winding road that sloped down, lower and lower until it reached the capitol city. You were home. You stared at the falling sun, the quaint little houses below, and you could almost smell the fresh bread at the corner bakery you frequented back when you were young. sneaking out of the palace because you hated the posh, white bread they served.

Hyunjin pulled his horse to wait beside yours, catching the peaceful smile on your face. There was something alluring about you when you fought against him, but seeing what you looked like when you tasted true happiness, it made his heart soften just a little.

“It’s beautiful,” he commented, slowing his horse down beside yours.

“You should see it during the lantern festivals,” you smiled, looking down at the immense city from a distance, “The city lights up at night, and no one sleeps that entire week.”

“Maybe we should come back to experience it one day,” Hyunjin suggested, his voice casual, but his eyes shrouded with slight uncertainty, knowing that he was probing into untapped territory.

To his surprise, the relaxed smile on your face remained, “That’s not a bad idea,” you mused. Rolling your shoulders, you let out a sigh, looking out at the city below.

Then, reality hit you like a club to the gut as your eyes caught sight of the flag that waved at the front of the castle. Distant, barely discernible, but you knew at a glance. It was not your kingdom’s flag, and it was the cruelest reminder of the reason you were allowed to come home in the first place.

The king followed your line of sight, curious as to what caused such a sudden change in mood. When his eyes fell to the flag looming over the city, it clicked, “Y/N,” he started, swallowing as he considered his words carefully, “I have to establish rule at least for a little--”

“Don’t patronize me,” Your voice was colder than ice, and Hyunjin cursed at ill fate of your relationship. Always half a step forward, then three steps back, “I’m no stranger to conquering cities. Let’s get to the palace before dark,” you flicked the reigns, prepping your horse to begin moving.

“Wait--” Hyunjin’s hand reached over to grab your wrist before he was even fully conscious of his own actions. Surprised, your head whipped around to look at his face before looking down at where his large hand completely wrapped around your thin wrist.

“We have quite some time before the sky begins to darken at all,” Hyunjin reasoned with you calmly, and his thumb brushed against the soft skin of your arm in an instinctive attempt to appease your obvious anger, “And the rest of the court has not yet caught up to us.”

“Do you want us to lay down a cloth on the grass and chat over some afternoon tea?” You scoffed, trying to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened, squeezing his hand around your wrist as if he thought you would disappear right in front of him if he wasn’t touching you.

Hyunjin sighed, “I only want you to let me explain myself.”

If your anger had not boiled over before, it certainly did now. You rounded your horse to face him, your eyes burning with controlled fury, “Explain yourself? What exactly do you need to explain? Your kingdom conquered mine, lay siege to the capitol, burned down the cities in your path, and now you’re taking me as your trophy wife--”

“You’re not a trophy wife, Y/N,” Hyunjin finally interrupted you, his voice firm and steadfast. He looked you straight in the eye, his gaze never faltering as he spoke his mind, “I did not ask you to be my wife just to mutely sit by my side. I want your counsel, your advice, your opinion. You will be my Queen in both name and power.”

Taken aback by his words, your anger faltered and turned only into confusion, “Then,” you spoke, so flustered that you didn’t even notice Hyunjin’s hand had trailed down to hold your hand in his, “what was the point in conquering my country so completely, if you were planning to give me power in the first place?”

Hyunjin smiled, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You noticed that he smiled like that often; never quite looking fake but never truly happy either, “Your parents.”

Immediately, you stiffened, and just from your reaction, Hyunjin knew his explanation was partially complete, “I needed to remove them from the picture completely, and to do that, I needed a total victory.”

An uncomfortable feeling twisted in your gut. It was your mother and father that he was talking about! You should’ve been furious, spatting at the ground he walked on for his words to both of them, but in the end, you could only protest weakly, “Still, there was no need to--”

“You know they fed off the poor, right?” Hyunjin asked, his voice turning cold, “You know they corrupted the distribution of wealth and crops to fund their own gambling addiction, right?”

Your heart turned to ice as you stared at Hyunjin in absolute horror, “H-how did you--”

“Do you think your kingdom’s secrets stay inside the kingdom forever?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at your naivety, “Envoys talk, rumors spread. The king and queen of your kingdom were not fit to carry the weight of their people on their shoulders.”

Finally having enough of this pain, this scabs of your heart that Hyunjin was cruelly picking at, you snapped, turning your face away, “Then why marry me at all?! If you scorn at my parents’ corruption, why choose me? Is this just a twisted way of shoving their crimes into my face?”

“Because you’re not like them,” Hyunjin answered simply.

A bitter chuckle slipped past your lips, “You sound foolishly certain about that, Your Majesty.”

“I am,” The king did not mince his words. Why should he, when he knew it was true beyond a shadow of a doubt?

“I know you are nothing like them. You were their bandage, desperately trying to make up for their actions,” Hyunjin continued, “You compensated for their depletion of the bank with your own funds, you fed the poor from food storages hidden from the eyes of your parents.”

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes softened and he let warmth into his voice, “You fought me because of a war they started, and they intended you to be the only one who would pay the price for it.”

Your eyes felt uncomfortable tight as if you were about to cry, and under no circumstance were you going to let that happen in front of Hyunjin, “Why tell me all this now?” you asked, your voice uncharacteristically resigned as you kept your eyes trained at the distant palace, “You think I’m not fully aware of their cruelty? You think I haven’t spent my entire life trying to make up for my parents’ actions?”

Hyunjin didn’t speak for a moment, taking in the weight of your words, “If I may ask,” he started softly, “if you knew about it, why didn’t you overthrow them? You certainly had the resources and the support of your people.”

The question brought a dry smile to your face as you turned to look at Hyunjin, “You’re right,” you answered wryly, “why didn’t I? It would’ve been the most logical course of action, don’t you think?” Hyunjin had no answer, because he knew your question was merely a rhetorical one, and he wasn’t about to fall into another one of your honeytraps and let you dodge the question that has plagued his mind since he first crossed blades with you.

“There isn’t anything complicated to it, really,” you glanced at Hyunjin with a sort of resigned annoyance, “I just couldn’t bring it in me to betray my family.”

“Did they ever even give you anything?” Hyunjin asked incredulously, “Did they ever show you affection at all?”

The almost spiteful questions made you laugh bitterly, “No, not at all,” Turning to Hyunjin, you gave a smile that didn’t reach your eyes, “Foolish me, right?”

Hyunjin stared at you, the sly comeback on the tip of his tongue disappearing as soon as it appeared. Despite your cold expression, your eyes told the truth, and he could see that your heart pained at the notion of having covered for your parents since you were old enough to read, only for them to throw you to the wolves, betraying you for money.

“It isn’t foolish to love your parents,” Hyunjin answered softly, causing your eyes to widen in surprise, “It might be just an innate instinct to, even if they mistreat us.”

You let out a disbelieving chuckle, “Maybe you’re right.”

“You don’t have to feel guilt about what happened to them, you know,” Hyunjin turned to face the horizon where the sun was setting behind the palace.

“I don’t.”

“Don’t lie, it’s written all over your face,” Hyunjin said, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, “It’s killing you inside that you didn’t save your parents in time, right?”

You looked down at your hands, your heart burning with festering guilt, “How can I not?”

“You shouldn’t,” Hyunjin said bluntly, “They betrayed you to me, hoping that it would save them, when it only sealed their fate. There was nothing you could do about it.”

“I could’ve stopped you if I was only a moment earlier,” you argued, the guilt that had been bottled up inside you finally bursting out due to his prodding, “If I was only a little faster, then I would’ve--”

“Princess,” Hyunjin’s soft voice cut into your thoughts, “They didn’t deserve your kindness.”

You refused to admit how much his words soothed your anxiety, and in the dead of night, how they’d repeat in your head, allowing sleep to finally defeat the trauma your parents had instilled into you.

iv.

“Your Highness, please come sit down so I can do your hair!”

The sound of your exasperated maids filled your bedroom chamber as you huffed, tying your new silk robe in place before plopping down on the chair in front of the vanity, “What’s the rush? We have four hours before the wedding.”

Chaeryeong clicked her tongue in obvious exasperation, “Spending all your time out on the battlefield since birth, do you even know how much time it takes to get ready? Plus, you’re the future Queen, Your Highness! What would your husband think if you didn’t look prim and proper for the biggest event of your lives?”

Ah yes, your current fiancé.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Hyunjin was doing his utmost to get on your good side. The moment the two of you arrived at your palace, Hyunjin lavished his wealth on you and your upcoming wedding. Every day you spent with him, he’d give you a gift, ranging from a simple rose to silk robes made by the finest tailors on the continent. You’d told him over and over that you didn’t need extravagance like this, but the king paid you no mind, and the boxes continued to be delivered to your bedroom every day.

If you were being honest, your heart had begun to feel a little warmer to him, his gentle actions chipping at your icy walls. It wasn’t just the gifts, it was his unabashed care for you that made you think that he was almost excited to be married to you, a rather outrageous idea in itself.

“Your Highness!” a voice interrupted your thoughts as Yuna scurried over to you, “His Majesty is outside.”

“Outside of this room?” you asked, turning to face her in surprise.

She nodded in confirmation, “He says he has something to give you.”

Hyunjin stood at the other side of your door, already dressed immaculately in his uniform, spotless and practically dripping with charm. He had walked over to your bedroom, eager to present you with his daily gift when Yuna had slipped out and promptly stopped him from going in.

“I just want to give her a gift!” Hyunjin had protested weakly, but with how stern she was being, he felt like a scolded child rather than an all powerful ruler.

“I’m very sorry, Your Majesty, but you cannot see the Princess until the wedding ceremony.”

Hyunjin was practically pouting at that point, fiddling with the velvet black box in his hands, “Can I at least talk to her?” he asked, “I’ll slip it through the door.”

The maid gave him a weary look before relenting, “Fine. Wait here, Your Majesty.”

“Hyunjin?” you called out hesitantly from the other side of the door, his name no longer feeling foreign to your lips.

“How are you feeling?” Hyunjin asked, feeling the waves of anxiety calm just from hearing your voice. You couldn’t help but smile; even in this moment, where a typical king would already be in celebration with his friends, almost always in some sort of brothel, he still came to make sure you were alright.

“Nervous, but who wouldn’t be?” You chuckled, playing with the doorknob, and a part of you yearned to open the door just to get a look at Hyunjin’s face. The two of you have spent practically most hours of the day together for the last couple weeks, either dealing with foreign envoys sending their congratulations or revising the laws for your kingdom; it almost felt strange to not see him at all for the whole day.

You could hear shuffling from the other side before Hyunjin spoke uncertainly, “Oh, I have a gift for you.”

“Again?” A breathless laugh left your lips, “Hyunjin, you’ve already spent an unseemly amount of money on me these last few days!”

“I know, I know, but this one is special!” Hyunjin argued before his hand slipped through the crack, holding a black velvet box. You took it gingerly, still shaking your head in mild amusement as you opened the present, your jaw dropping.

“Hyunjin, this is…” your voice refused to work as you stared at the diamond necklace, individual gems lacing the front part of the chain, worth more than any of the jewelry your mother ever had, and certainly more than the ones in your possession that you’d buy from local jewelers to support their business.

“Do you like it?” Even without seeing him, you could hear the genuine eagerness in Hyunjin’s voice, and it warmed your heart in a way you didn’t know was possible, as if he had wrapped you up in fluffy blankets on a cold winter day.

You smiled, your fingers delicately brushing the silver chain, “It’s beautiful,” you murmured, before speaking a little louder in case Hyunjin didn’t hear you (he did), “It’s really beautiful, Hyunjin. Thank you.”

There was a beat of silence before Hyunjin spoke again, his voice softer than before, which made you lean closer to the door just to hear him. You could guess his purpose, to say something to you before the wedding and to keep it out of the ears of the nosy maids that were currently standing at the corner of your room, giggling and gossiping amongst themselves.

“I-I know that you never wanted this marriage.” Was that a stutter you heard? It couldn’t be.

Hyunjin cleared his throat before continuing, “I know, in some way, I forced you into this, and I apologize. I’ll do my very best to be a husband that is worthy of standing by your side.”

For a moment, you genuinely thought you were dreaming, the king’s words repeating in your head over and over and yet making no sense at all. Him being worthy of standing next to you? Who was the king here? Why was he lowering himself to your status?

“Hyunjin--” your hand was at the door, instinctively moving to push the door open so you could speak to him in person, but his reflex was just as fast, pushing back with his own hand and keeping the door shut.

“Don’t come out! You know it’s bad luck!” Hyunjin scolded you, his voice sounding slightly panicked.

You let out a sigh, wondering why everyone embraced so many of these superstitions, even him, “You’re right, the door stays closed,” you reassured him gently.

Hyunjin didn’t speak for a moment, and you almost thought he had left without a word when he began softly, “I know you didn’t want this marriage, but if your heart could have some room for me,” he swallowed, “any room at all, wear the necklace when you walk down the aisle.”

When you returned to the vanity, a dazed expression on your face as the maids giggled and continued to apply your makeup, you looked at your own appearance in the mirror, your hand gently brushing over the simple necklace that currently adorned your neck.

In accordance to the traditions of your kingdom, if your father was not alive to present you to your husband, it was expected of you to wear a gift from them as a symbol of their claim over you. The plain necklace with a single pearl charm in the center of it was the only jewelry you’d ever received from your father, and if you were being blatantly honest with yourself, you despised it.

Unconsciously, your other hand moved to rest atop the black velvet box now sitting on your vanity. Where your father’s jewlery felt like unwanted possession, you thought back to Hyunjin’s words.

“I’ll do my very best to be a husband that is worthy of standing by your side.”

Why did those words send your heart into rapid beating? Why did those words feel so freeing, hearing your husband-to-be proclaim before his vows with such intimacy, only for your ears?

It didn’t take more than two minutes to come to a decision. You knew the path you had to take, the one that would allow you to break from the past and the constant obligation you’ve always felt.

“Yuna.”

“Yes, Your Highness?” Your maid smiles, immediately standing to attention as you open the black box. The other maids gasped at the sight of such a priceless artifact before them.

“Help me replace my current necklace, please.”

The wedding went without a hitch and you were officially the bride of the most powerful man on the continent. Even as the feast proceeded, your people utterly ecstatic that their beloved princess had been married off in such style, you found yourself playing with the ring that weighed down your fourth finger. It was just felt...foreign.

As the night came to a close, and even the most drunken partygoers were politely escorted out of the palace gates, you were ushered into your bedroom by your maids, who looked a little too eager to have anything good planned.

“What are you all giggling about?” you sighed as they gently combed out the flowers in your hair.

“It’s your first night with the king, Your Highness!” Yuna answered, massaging your hands gently, “We have to pretty you up!”

“Oh?” you raised your eyebrows at her in suspicion before lightly jabbing her side, “Are you saying that I’m not pretty already?”

Yuna fluttered her lashes innocently, “I didn’t say that, Your Highness,” Yeji and Ryujin hid their smiles and you only rolled your eyes, never finding it in you to be hard on any of them. The five maids have been by your side since you were young, and you were more than elated when Hyunjin had agreed to summon them back to the palace despite that they, more often than not, made you want to tear your hair out.

Like right now.

“I am not wearing that,” you shook your head, your voice dropping into a low growl. But one thing that always drove you a little insane, none of the girls were afraid of you.

Lia held up the lace sleepwear, smiling at you, “Hm? Why ever not?” She asked, as if the robe wasn’t practically sheer and leaving almost nothing to imagination.

“I’m dressing to go to bed!”

“Yes, going to bed with him, your new husband!” Chaeryeong laughed ushering you behind the divider, “Come on, you’re wearing that nightgown or we’ll tell His Majesty about the time you tried to climb the tower--”

“Fine! Demons, all of you,” you growled without any bite to it, and the only response were the laughter and giggles of your handmaidens.

Hyunjin walked towards the bedroom, still wearing his uniform from the ceremony. Every few steps, he’d glance at the ring on his fourth finger. It wasn’t anywhere near the most expensive piece of jewelry he owns, but you had chosen it for him. You, his newly wedded wife. It made him positively giddy just thinking about it, but he contained himself because he was a king, for goodness sakes.

The door to his bedroom opened as the maids excused themselves. He recognized them as your handmaidens, especially because you had personally went up to him to request--no, demand politely--that they be brought back to your side.

What was curious, though, was the way they were giggling amongst themselves, giggling that only grew when they spotted Hyunjin in the corridor. They gracefully curtsied at him before practically sprinting down the hall.

Hyunjin shook his head with a resigned smile as he opened the door to your now shared bedroom, “Your handmaidens were giggling nonstop as they walked out--”

The king’s voice completely failed to work for a solid minute as he gazed upon your figure, abashedly sitting on the edge of the bed. While he’d always thought you were beautiful, ever since the first, bloody meeting with your swords clashing, this was the first time he realized that you weren’t just beautiful, you were utterly divine.

Whatever self restraint he had, the secret affection he’d buried for so long, it burst out like a raging fire.

“Hyunjin--” your words were cut short as the man rushed forward, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips smashed against yours, taking the gasp of surprise right out of you.

It was unreal, the way you were being kissed, the way Hyunjin was kissing you. It was like nothing you’ve ever felt before, like a gust of wind was sweeping you off your feet. His lips were both gentle and insistent, tugging and giving to you in a way that gave you no choice but to let him in.

Your hands gripped at his uniform as Hyunjin hovered over you, his hands ghosting over your bare thighs as he gently guided you to lie down on the bed, never once pulling away from you. Hyunjin’s hands were roaming everywhere, cupping your face to touched the lace fabric on your waist.

His name fell out of your lips as he squeezed your thighs, his tongue coming to explore your mouth with a sort of urgency. It felt like the more you gave him, the more he took.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out as he finally pulled away for a moment to breathe, his lips inches away from yours. Glancing down, his hand trailed to your neck, leaving featherlight touches on the soft skin as he marveled at the way you looked all splayed out on the bed for him, “And that necklace, it looked stunning…” he trailed off as he began to work at your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin.

He was just so good. His hands knew exactly where to touch, where to be gentle. His lips knew when to be soft and when to be aggressive. As your hands instinctively moved to card through his soft black hair, a small part of you, a tiny speck of doubt in your mind festered. How many times has he done this to be so experienced? How many have been in the receiving end of his ceaseless praises and touches?

It was only a hint of doubt, and you tried to shove it within the depths of your mind. Hyunjin’s relationships before your marriage shouldn’t matter, and to be brutally honest, you didn’t hold yourself in high enough esteem to think that you’d be able to keep his interest for even more than a few days. As your mother had once said in scorn, you were more soldier than lady.

When Hyunjin’s lips trailed from your collarbones to just above your breasts, you began to squirm a little, the panic slowly seeking into your body. The king, enraptured by his actions, continued to travel lower and lower, and the anxiety in your chest only grew until it snapped as his hands slipped under your nightgown.

“H-Hyunjin—wait—stop, please stop—” you gasped out, frantically beginning to struggle and writhe beneath him. There wasn’t much of a fight, however, because the moment your panicked tone made it to Hyunjin’s ears, he backed away, completely getting off you and kneeling beside your breathless form, his eyes wide with an expression you’ve never seen on his face before.

Horror.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he choked out as his hands fluttered anxiously around you, debating whether or not to help you or not to touch you out all. In the end, his hands delicately rested on your shoulder as he helped you sit up. Stupid, why couldn’t he read the signs?

You shook your head as you began to shiver, the heated atmosphere from before now fading from your bones, “N-no, I’m sorry,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around your body as if to protect yourself. From him. It made him sick to his stomach.

“Don’t be sorry. It was my fault,” Hyunjin said firmly, and he grabbed one of his robes that were hanging somewhere in the bedroom, quickly returning to your side and throwing it over your shoulders, wrapping you up in clothing that actually covered you.

What had happened? Hyunjin knew you were enjoying it at the onset. He could feel you kissing back, getting swept away as your hands lightly tugged at his hair. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have went so far to the point where he lost control of his own desire. When did you start panicking?

“No, not at all, Your Majesty,” you spoke softly, tugging at the robe around your shoulders to wrap it tighter around your frame, and Hyunjin had to physically hold back a flinch as his title fell out of your lips. You were his wife, for god’s sake! You didn’t need to call him that.

“I’m just...I’m merely overreacting,” you continued, hugging your knees to your chest and looking smaller than he’d ever seen you, “I understand that it’s a queen’s duty to...produce an heir,” you dipped your head, avoiding his eyes, “And I know this is a rather outrageous request, but I don’t want this until there’s at least some sort of affection between us.”

Hyunjin took a moment to process your words before his eyes widened. Oh dear, you’ve got this all wrong. You truly didn’t know. You didn’t know how much thought he’d put into the gifts he sent you. You didn’t know the way he’d tossed and turned the night before the wedding, childishly giddy at the very thought of marrying you. You didn’t know and didn’t realize it at all.

But it was alright. He could tell from just one look at you that you weren’t ready. And that was alright. He would wait. He’d wait his whole lifetime for you.

“You aren’t overreacting,” Hyunjin said, his voice gentle as he moved to stroke your soft hair, “And you aren’t my queen just to produce an heir, you’re much more than that. I won’t ever push you until you’re ready.”

Your eyes widened at his words and your head whipped up to look at Hyunjin, who was now sitting on his legs on the bed in front of you, “B-but, what would people say?” you asked.

“We can pretend if it makes you uncomfortable, and if I hear any malicious rumors, I’ll put a stop to them,” Hyunjin answered, not an ounce of doubt in his words.

Despite your shaken state, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly, “How very terrifying, no wonder they call you the Ice King of the North,” this wasn’t the first time you’ve used that nickname on him, but it no longer held the malice it used to. Rather, there was a small playfulness to it, a gratitude for him being so understanding.

Hyunjin was happy to play along, anything to make you feel more at ease around him, “That’s a total farce,” he grumbled, “I never tortured soldiers for information, I just predicted their moves. I don’t need to stoop that low to win my battles.”

“Oh, you poor little one,” you said with mock pity, reaching up to pet his hair as if soothing a child.

“Little one?” Hyunjin’s lips curled into a smirk as he rounded on you like a predator stalking its prey, “Are you sure I’m the little one here?”

“Hyunjin,” you warned, although it was hard to fight the smile from appearing on your face as you scooted away from you, “Don’t you--Hyunjin!”

You let out a squeal as Hyunjin pounced on you, attacking mercilessly with tickles as you fought back with the same amount of vigor. It was no use, though; Hyunjin was broader and had more than a head over you in height.

Your hand managed to latch onto a pillow and you took it smacking the side of his face hard with the fluffy object. The tide was turned, and you managed to slither out from under him, hitting him as you laughed.

When you finally fell back on the bed, breathless and giggling, Hyunjin rolled over to you slowly. Cautiously, his hand wrapped around your waist, and to his utter surprise, you made no moves to push him away. Instead, you looked comfortable with the gesture, letting him pull you to his side gently.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

“What?” You looked up in surprise, feeling yourself snug against his chest as Hyunjin hummed, silently moving the covers up over your shoulders to keep you warm.

“I’m glad I married you,” Hyunjin murmured again, resting his head on yours.

You were silent for a long moment, his words ringing in his head. They were so gentle, so outrageously innocent for a man who you’d hated only a few weeks before. Slowly, your hand shifting, gently resting on his chest as you spoke softly, “I’m...glad it’s you, too.”

Hyunjin’s body tensed in surprise as if he wasn’t quite expecting you to parrot the words to him at all, and especially in that soft voice that only came out when you were showing your most vulnerable sides to him. His arm tightened around your waist as you closed your eyes, happily nestled in the embrace of your new husband.

interlude.

“Your Majesty. Your Majesty!” A servant waved his hand urgently as he rushed down the hallway.

Hyunjin stopped short in his conversation with one of his commanders, Minho, spinning on his heels to address the man, “Yes, what is it?”

“Here is the invitation list for Her Majesty’s coronation,” he said, handing Hyunjin a long piece of parchment paper. The king unrolls the document, scanning through the guest list quickly before rolling it back in place, “Do away with this list.”

The messenger gawked at his request, utterly dumbfounded, “Your Majesty?” He stammers, puzzled.

“This list only includes the most high ranking officials and lords of the kingdom,” Hyunjin handed the parchment back to the messenger, “I want the throne room opened to all.”

“All?” Hyunjin’s commander sputtered, finally interjecting into the conversation, “Your Majesty, that would be a huge risk to take regarding security! Anyone could potentially sneak in and--”

“My Queen is not the type to only care for the noblemen, but also the rest of our people. We’ve already discussed it in length. She wants the common people present at her coronation as well,” Hyunjin replied.

Minho bristled internally. It had only been a few weeks since the king had brought home his new bride. The fact that he had not consulted with any of his military and economic advisors was already outrageous, and what made it even worse was how obviously besotted with her he was.

Minho disliked her, along with the rest of the nobles. She was foreign blood and she was a technical prisoner of war. She also seemed to prioritize the commoners more than the people that actually paid for this monarchy. She threw a wrench in their plans, and they all hated her.

“Commander? Do you have anything to say in your defense?” The king’s icy tone broke into the man’s thoughts, Hyunjin’s eyebrow raised expectantly.

It was only too bad that the king protected the queen almost more than he did his own life.

“Nothing, Your Majesty. You are right, of course,” The experienced commander knew when to show his white flag, dipping his head in agreement. There was no point in angering his king over something as trivial as this.

Hyunjin obviously didn’t buy his saccharine sweetness, but he wasn’t petty enough to point it out either, “Speaking of the Queen,” he turned to the messenger, “would you happen to know where she is right now? She had wandered off to explore the palace after our military meeting adjourned.”

“Ah,” the poor boy blushed, feeling quite suddenly put on the spot as he answered, “I believe I saw her wandering into the garden, Your Majesty.”

The king could not hide a fond smile from flitting across his face in a brief moment of weakness, “I see, thank you,” he nodded at the boy, and the messenger was more than happy to excuse himself from Hyunjin’s presence. Finally left alone with the commander, Hyunjin turned to him smoothly, “Continuing our previous conversation, I will not enforce a toll between the borders of mine and the Queen’s kingdom. If you don’t have anything else to discuss, you are excused.”

Ah, it’s always the Queen, the Queen, the Queen. Minho thought it was nothing short of repulsive at how only the name of the woman would have his king turning over and showing his belly like an excited kitten. Gritting his teeth, he bowed, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

If this goes on any further, Minho might have to take matters into his own hands. But, for the moment, he didn’t need to get his hands dirty yet. A smile quirked up on his face as he mused about certain...possibilities. Maybe, with the coronation open to all, he wouldn’t even need to lift a finger.

vii.

To be honest, when Hyunjin was growing up, he had believed himself incapable of love. When his father had died early on in his life, he was raised by a mother that knew nothing but greed and a thirst for power. She controlled him like a puppet on strings, using her own son as a vessel for her own agendas. It had taken all of Hyunjin’s effort to finally break free from his mother’s clutches, and when he emerged into the world as a young king, he realized that he was well and truly destined to be alone.

But as he walked around the royal gardens, in search of his wife, his heart making a light skip at the mere prospect of seeing her, he wonder if this was what love was supposed to feel like. And as he stopped short, seeing the back of a familiar woman sitting on the bank of a small pond, her simple, yet elegant dress splayed out gracefully on the ground, he knew this was exactly what love was supposed to feel like.

Smiling to himself, the king walked over to you, shedding his uniform jacket and gently draping it over your small form, “Spending time with the bunnies again?”

You barely bat an eyelash as the familiar weight of Hyunjin’s coat fell upon your shoulders, holding onto it to keep warm as you smiled up at him, “Didn’t Commander Lee want to speak with you alone? What are you doing out here?”

“The conversation was more trivial than I’d expected, so I cut it short,” Hyunjin waved off your worries, sitting down on the grass beside you. Suddenly to his right, two small, cream colored bunnies jump out from the bushes, bounding over to you, already familiar with your presence since you’ve spent much of your free time here.

“Are you sure you should be making your displeasure so obvious? You know we rely on their military strength,” you spoke as you gently reached out to one of the bunnies, tickling its nose with your finger, a light frown on your face as you looked at Hyunjin.

“I’ve made it very clear what I expect from them, and yet they keep disobeying me,” Hyunjin muttered, angrily ripping at the grass to vent his obvious frustrations.

As you studied Hyunjin’s face, you couldn’t help but sense that there was more to his anger at his commanders than he was letting on, “There’s something else, isn’t there?” you approached him cautiously.

Hyunjin looked up at you, surprised, “What do you mean?” One of the bunnies hesitantly bounded over to him, and the king awkwardly pet them, trying his best to be gentle, especially after you’d given him a big scolding about being to aggressive with them a few weeks ago.

“You’re not just angry because they question your policies,” you explained, your eyebrows furrowed in gentle concern, “I mean, I question you all the time, and we’ve only been married for a few weeks.”

The king couldn’t help but chuckle at that, “But it’s different when it’s you.”

“Why? Because we’re married?” you laughed at the sheer cheesiness of the statement, giggling as Hyunjin nuzzled his face into your shoulder playfully.

“What else could it be, darling?” the name fell out of his lips so naturally, he almost had to do a double take with how close he was to saying it like he genuinely meant it, and not just as a lighthearted joke between the two of you.

Instead of pushing him away, you smiled, reaching to gently ruffle his hair, “Don’t avoid the question,” you murmured softly, “what’s got you all worked up?”

Hyunjin debated for a moment before sighing. He could never refuse you of anything, “I don’t like how they treat you,” he said, his voice flat, “I don’t like the way they glower at you when they think you don’t notice, the way they keep trying to subtly tell me to find another wife.”

There was a moment of silence as you stated at him, almost dumbfounded. Then, to Hyunjin’s utter surprise, your lips curled into an amused smile, “That's it?”

Oh, the utter nerve of you! Hyunjin would feel offended if it weren't for the fact that he was angry for your sake in the first place, “That's it?” He repeated in disbelief, “Aren't you annoyed at all? They dislike you for no reason other than the fact that you're not one of them. Doesn't that make you even a little angry?”

“Why should it?” You merely shrugged your shoulders, smiling down at the bunny that was burrowing into your stomach for warmth, “Their twisted thinking is not my responsibility to change. If they're determined to hate me, no amount of money, fear or kindness will change that.”

It was quite amazing, seeing you so nonchalant. Hyunjin had done his best to help you adjust to the new customs, the colder weather, everything that might potentially pull you out of your comfort zone, but you took everything with such grace, such an aura of indifference. It almost turned him on every time he saw you brush off Minho’s jagged comments about your appearance, your background, your parent's crimes with a simple quip in return that would turn the commander's face a shade of deep red.

“You’re unreal,” The words fell off of Hyunjin’s lips before he could even process them. You're unreal? Hwang Hyunjin, you're supposed to be a notoriously smooth talker, a true diplomat!

The look on your face showed your surprise at his sudden comment as you asked almost worriedly, “What’s going on with you today?”

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin cleared his throat, desperate to salvage this rather awkward conversation.

“Well, you seem more emotionally charged than normal,” you commented, “Did something happen?” A mischievous sparkle appeared in your eyes, “Someone catch your eye?”

“Of course. You.”

“Flattery won't make me go easy on you during our sparring practice,” you hummed absently, all of your attention devoted to the bunny in your lap as you tickled its nose with your gentle finger, cooing.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but pout as his advances were all being brushed away, and he felt a little like a shy prince courting a lady for the first time. He glanced at the bunny with an expression akin to mild disdain, “You seem to play favorites, My Queen.”

You chuckled, lifting the small creature into your hands as it curiously sniffed at you, “Well, Sungie enjoys my company, too, more so than the others.”

“Sungie?” Hyunjin repeated the name. He disliked it, mentally apologizing to whoever he’d meet in the future that had the unfortunate fate of being named Sungie.

His blood boiled in a way that a petulant child’s would as he watched you giggle, pressing a light kiss to the bunny’s nose. Wonderful. Not only was this Sungie stealing your attention, he was stealing your kisses, too. When was the last time you kissed him?

Far too long ago.

Hyunjin sighed, and he gave up on his attempts to steal your attention, opting to tell you the more important news, “Your coronation is confirmed for next week.”

Your entire body froze, and you placed Sungie back into your lap, “That’s early,” you responded, and Hyunjin didn’t miss the thin layer of tension in your voice, the only sign that becoming the queen of two kingdoms was more daunting to you than you like to show, “I thought you said the nobles would never agree to it.”

“I think they grew tired of opposing you, since it’s so goddamn hard,” Hyunjin said, and your lips quirked into a wry smile, unconsciously driving him to do the same, “The head of staff gave me the normal list of the same, boring rich military men, but I told him to change it according to what we’d discussed.”

You didn’t speak for a long moment, your eyes drifting off into the distance as if thinking very carefully until his name fell out of your lips, “Hyunjin.”

“Yes?” The king tilted his head towards you inquisitively.

“Aren’t you tired of me telling you what to do?” You asked, meeting his gaze with an unreadable expression on your face, “You married me, the princess of a defeated kingdom, and I prance around making my own rules and then now uprooting your traditions. Aren’t you annoyed at least?”

Hyunjin only shrugged, “I didn’t chose you out of all people to be my queen just for you to stay silent,” he answered before letting out a fond chuckle, “And besides, you never tell me what to do. You just come in with a strong suggestion and we either argue about it civilly or we duel it out. That’s called council, and it’s exactly what you’re supposed to be doing.”

For the first time, you stared at Hyunjin in a new light. Was it just because of his words, or was your heart fluttering because of him? Hyunjin didn’t seem to notice how much his words meant to you, beginning to click his tongue sweetly at one of the nearby bunnies, petting their soft fur. Strange, he didn’t seem this attractive the few times he’d done this before.

“Are you alright?” The man in your thoughts interrupted your daydreaming, “You’ve gone all quiet.”

You could only hope that the warmth on your cheeks didn’t show, “I’m alright,” you replied quickly, diverting your attention to Sungie, who had woken up, trying to burrow himself in your lap, “Just thinking about the coronation.”

“I see. Are you excited?”

“Excited?” You repeated with a chuckle, “I can’t say I’m dreading it, but would anyone be excited to carry the weight of two kingdoms on their shoulders?”

“Not everyone thinks about ruling in that way,” Hyunjin reasoned, reaching for one of the bunnies.

You shrugged, “Maybe, but I don’t want to treat my power like something I can carelessly wield--ah, not that aggressively!” Your eyes widened as you grabbed Hyunjin’s wrist when you noticed him reach for one of the bunnies without letting it come to him.

“Why? I was going slow!” Hyunjin spoke defensively, all of his senses heightened at the feeling of your small yet firm grip around his wrist. Cute, your hand didn’t even completely wrap around his.

“Wait for him to come to you,” you instructed him, guiding his hand forward in the right movements to beckon some of the bunnies over to him. All your attention was diverted to helping him, and yet, Hyunjin could not take his eyes off your face, your perfect features, the kindness in your eyes, and those perfectly kissable lips.

He couldn’t wait until the day that a golden crown would adorn your hair, and you would sit in the throne beside him, a spot that no one else but you were worthy of.

viii.

“Are you nervous?”

“Do you want me to lie to you and say that I’m not?” You replied from where you were standing in front of the full length mirror, Yeji and Ryujin putting on the last few accessories of your coronation dress. Per your request, the gown was bold, dark red chiffon falling to the ground with accents of gold plated metal on your shoulder plates. It was a statement, a statement that would tell Hyunjin’s kingdom that you were no prisoner, and a statement that would tell your own kingdom that you were still their princess in heart and soul.

Hyunjin leaned against the doorframe, watching you get ready and conversing with you. For a brief moment, you wondered if he’d sensed your nerves that morning, and had come to bother you only to get your mind off of the main event.

You stared at your own reflection, unwavering. But yet, the woman that stared back at you, the woman who was about to be crowned the queen of two powerful kingdoms, felt unfamiliar. This, this powerful woman, she didn’t feel like you. What good have you ever done with your power? What good will you ever do with your new power?

“Yeji, Ryujin, leave us,” Hyunjin suddenly spoke up, although not unkindly. The two handmaidens slipped their hands away from their work, having only to check the corset straps before they were done with you.

When they left the room, you watched silently in the mirror as Hyunjin pushed off from the doorframe and made his way towards you. The king didn’t seem to be in a rush to speak either, and he took the corset straps delicately in his hands before securing the corset.

“I’m not ready,” Hyunjin said softly as he concentrated on his task, “That was the only thought running through my head on the day of my coronation.”

You didn’t speak, taking in the weight of his words, “I remember,” you answered softly, and as you watched Hyunjin’s brow furrow in concentration as he checked your corset, you couldn’t help but notice how intimate the moment was. “You were only fifteen when the former king passed away.”

“I was groomed for this role all my life,” Hyunjin hummed, slipping his finger into a few of the corset layers to loosen it just a little so you could breathe easier, “Ever since I was born, every waking moment was spent preparing me to be king, and yet, when I stood up there, I never felt more like an imposter than at that moment.”

It was surprising, hearing that Hyunjin, such a cool, levelheaded monarch even at his young age didn’t feel like he belonged on that throne, even though he of all people deserved to sit in it. You didn’t think that he did before, but after seeing him, spending every day supporting him, you realized that, beneath his disarming smile, his heart was gentle and he cared oh so much.

“My Queen,” your eyes widened as you felt Hyunjin take your hands in his, and you turned to face him, admiring the beautiful features that adorned his face. You could count his eyelashes, gazing into the plethora of hazel brown shades in his soft eyes, his soft, plump lips looking so kissable.

Hyunjin held your hands delicately, rubbing his thumbs against the back of them in an effort to soothe your worries, “You will be the most beloved Queen that the kingdom has ever had,” he murmured, “It might not be immediate, and it might not be in the next week, but there’s no one else that is worthy of the title.”

“When will I feel that way?” You swallowed as you looked into his eyes, letting your vulnerability show, “When will I ever feel that I’m ready?”

The king smiled at the question, squeezing your hands, “You won’t,” he said, an almost bitter taste to his words, “You will never stop second guessing yourself, no matter how long you wear that crown,” Hyunjin didn’t mince his words, knowing that you didn’t need shallow reassurance right now. You needed the truth.

“But, you can’t stop just because you don’t believe you’re ready,” he continued, reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, “Just know, you’re enough. You will always be enough.”

Goddamnit, Hyunjin was making it very hard for you not to fall in love with him.

You took a deep breath, grounding yourself as you felt the tension leave your shoulders, “Feel better?” Hyunjin gave you an encouraging smile, seeing you that you looked more like your usual self.

“Much,” you smiled up at him, reaching a gentle hand up to brush a stray strand of hair away from his face.

An hour later, you knelt before Hyunjin on the velvet carpet your head dipped down as the king recited the vows, the vows in which you were taking as the new queen. The pews were filled to the brim with people of all kinds, merchants, farmers, blacksmiths, maids, everyone eagerly trying to get a glimpse of you, your dress, your appearance.

You repeated the vows, and with the dumb stroke of luck, your nerves refused to get the best of you, and you managed to go through the three-page long speech without any major slips. The crowd let out gasps of wonder as the crown, a marvelous artifact in itself with its gold base, its red rubies and diamond embellishments, was taken off its safe place on a red cushion. And with the gentlest of touches, Hyunjin slipped the crown atop your head as you looked down at the ground beneath his feet. As you lifted your head, you could’ve sworn Hyunjin had given you the most fleeting of winks, but you felt an ease flood through your jittery bones.

He stretched out his hand to you, gentle and inviting, and you slipped your hand in his, letting him help you up. Subconsciously, you held back the sudden urge to lean forward and press your lips against his. Unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin was restraining himself from doing just that.

As the two of you turned to face the adoring crowd, Hyunjin called out in a booming voice, “Long live the Queen!”

The sentiment carried on and on, echoing in the halls as you held Hyunjin’s hand tightly. You could feel the glower on the faces on the nobles, glaring at you with constrained hatred, but you could care less. The people wanted you, accepted you as their queen, and that was more than enough for you.

Smiling up at Hyunjin, feeling relief flood through your bones, the two of you were filled with glee as the cup bearer came out with the two glasses of wine to complete the ceremony, the unification of the king and queen.

“Want to give them something to remember?” Hyunjin murmured in your ear, taking his own glass.

“And how do we do that?” You smiled, raising the glass of red wine to him gracefully.

The king’s eyes sparkled with a mischief that only appeared when he was truly happy, when he was utterly content, and one of his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you snug against him. The other, holding the wine glass in hand, looped around yours as the people began to clamor excitedly at the spectacle, “Like this, obviously.”

The close proximity made you blush, and you stared at Hyunjin, your heart pounding.

“What’s wrong?” He teased you, leaning closer, “Too shy?”

No, it wasn’t that, you thought as the two of you linked arms, getting ready to drink the wine together. All the moments your heart had fluttered, all the moments you felt as if time stood still whenever he held your hand, it all pieced together like a puzzle that was meant for only you to solve.

Ah, you really did love Hwang Hyunjin.

Tipping the glass upward, you caught sight of a small commotion in the pews behind Hyunjin. It sounded different from the excited squeals and gasps of the rest of the crowd at you and Hyunjin’s show of affection. It sounded almost like…

A man burst out from the seats, jumping over the rows as people screamed in terror and tried their best to get out of harms’ way. In that moment, you assumed he was here to attack you, especially with the manic look in his eyes and the razor sharp knife gripped in his hand. Hyunjin had warned you, after all, that not everyone in his kingdom was pleased that he’d married a princess from a foreign land they were at war with.

But he wasn’t aiming at you. He was aiming at Hyunjin.

Out of pure hatred and craze, he reached the two of you, slipping out of the guards’ grasp and advancing towards Hyunjin, his knife ready to sink into his heart. There wasn’t a moment left for hesitation, and in that split second, you lashed out, standing in front of Hyunjin and intercepted the knife with your hand.

Time stood still as your own life blood trickled down your arm, the horrified gasps of the crowd became irrelevant, and you finally got a good look of who was trying to kill your husband. Your eyes widened, and from the distant past, you recognized the man.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin’s voice broke you from your moment of epiphany, and you realized that the guards were already onto him, even as you gripped the knife harder, digging it further into your palm as the attacker struggled to pull it out.

“Wait,” you grit your teeth at the pain, glaring at the guards and tilting your head. Reluctantly, they pulled away from the man, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of watching this random person, this crazed attacker, hurt their newly crowned queen.

“Y/N--”

“I said, wait.”

Even Hyunjin froze at your tone, and the crowd died down, their earlier cries turning into conspiratorial whispers. What was the Queen doing? Has she gone mad? Is she ordering the King around?

Ignoring the commotion, the obvious stain that was now forming in your reputation, you looked the man straight in the eye and asked softly, “You’re...you’re one of my soldiers from the war, aren’t you?”

The man’s jaw went slack, utterly dumbfounded that his commander, and now his new queen had remembered him, a lowly foot soldier that lagged behind in the last regiments, “Your Majesty,” he stuttered over his own words. In his eyes, there was no anger left, only horror at what he had done, what he could’ve done, “I didn’t mean to--I only wanted some form of satisfaction.”

“I know,” you answered softly, loosening your grip on the knife as you noticed that his earlier resolve was crumbling. The man sank to his knees before you, and to the sheer horror of the noblemen in the crowd, you did the same for him, “I know. But this isn’t the way to achieve it.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y-your Majesty--” At last, the man dropped the knife and you let go, allowing the bloodied weapon to clatter to the floor. You ignored the rest of the world, you ignored the blood flowing freely from your wound, and you leaned forward, murmuring the words that you always uttered to your soldiers before every battle.

“Do you trust me?”

The man hesitated for a moment before answering softly, but without doubt, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

You smiled, “Then I will rebuild our kingdom in a way that will make you proud. I swear it.”

Knowing that your job was done, you backed away, and the man allowed the guards to take him away without any resistance. Then, from your right, you could hear Minho snicker under his breath, covering their mouths with mock politeness, and your face burned.

“Some queen she is.”

Despite the walls that you put up to hide your fears, your anxieties, you were only human, and you avoided the gaze of the crowd, knowing what they must think. A lowly queen that would bow before her own subjects, make promises to them rather than keeping her head high and mighty.

You didn’t regret what you did for a moment, but you knew how terrible this must look, and how awfully this might impact Hyunjin.

The sound of soft clapping made your ear twitch. Then, it grew louder, it grew into cheers, it grew into clamoring, until by the end, the hall was filled with the excited sounds of the people, drowning out the mocking laughter of the noblemen. You stared out into the crowd in dumbfounded awe as the roaring chant reverberated in your ears.

“Long live the Queen!”

ix.

“Ow!”

You let out a hiss of pain as you sat in your nightgown by the vanity, your injured hand outstretched so it could be treated properly.

Ryujin clicked her tongue in mild annoyance, “Hurts, right? Maybe you should remember that the next time you grab a blade with your bare hands!” She snapped as she dabbed at the cut with a purple salve that the doctor had given you.

Glancing at her, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly, “You get so mad when you’re worried.”

“Who says I’m worried?” Ryujin scoffed, but both of you knew she was playing a bluff. Of course she worried, she worried the most out of all of your handmaidens, only hiding it with her brash attitude.

A soft creak of the door alerted the both of you, and Ryujin was halfway out of her seat already to berate whoever was walking in without knocking when she froze, immediately dipping her head respectfully as Hyunjin stepped into the room.

You averted your eyes instantly, finding some very intricate patterns on the marbled floor as you refused to look at him. Hyunjin was the only person you haven’t spoken to since the coronation early that day, and there was no way he wouldn’t be angry.

Hyunjin raised a brow, noting your actions the moment he walked in. If there was one thing you always did, even since the first meeting, it was to look straight into his eyes. You were probably the first to do it with such vigor, staring back at him as if practically daring him to challenge you. It was hard not to notice when you suddenly began to look away.

“Ryujin, please fetch us some tea, if you will,” Hyunjin spoke lightly as he walked over to the vanity, standing beside the two of you.

Your maid glanced at you, and you gave her a weak smile, lifting your unharmed hand to rest on hers, “It’s alright. I can finish bandaging it, really.”

“Fine,” Ryujin stood up after a moment, brushing off her dress, “you better do it right. Don’t forget that time you refused to clean the cut on your leg after sword practice and the doctor threatened to chop your limb off when it got all gross and infected,” you could only stare at her back, utterly betrayed as she skipped off to do as the king commanded.

As the door shut behind her, you were hyper aware that it was only you and Hyunjin in the room, and the silence was more torturous than anything you’d ever experienced. Keeping your head down, you heard as Hyunjin took Ryujin’s earlier seat.

“Here,” you flinched a little as you saw his hand outstretched, his palm facing upwards.

“I’m...sorry…?”

“Your hand, please,” Hyunjin sighed, wanting more than anything to take your hand himself and bandage it as tightly as possible, but he’d wait. He’d always wait.

Hesitantly, you extended your hand, resting it on his with your palm facing up, giving him a clear view of the rather ghastly cut, which went deeper than he’d assumed earlier. With delicate fingers, he scooped up a dollop of the salve before gently applying it. You immediately recoiled at the sting, but Hyunjin gripped your hand tightly.

“Keep still,” he said firmly, focusing all his attention on treating your cut. You glanced at the way his fingers gently pressed against your palm, the way he handled you with such care, care that you’ve never experienced before, and slowly, the guilt the coiled in your stomach began to crawl up and out of your throat.

“Hyunjin, I’m--”

“Why did you do that?”

His voice was tight as he interrupted you, reaching over to the vanity table and grabbing the roll of gauze while he waited for your answer. You didn’t speak for a long moment because--if you were being completely honest--you weren’t sure what came over you at that moment.

“He was a soldier in my army during the war,” you explained cautiously as Hyunjin began to wrap the bandages around your hand, “He was obviously more desperate than malicious, and–”

“That’s not what I meant,” Hyunjin’s patience finally snapped as he tied the bandage tightly, causing you to let out a wince. You finally looked at his face out of confusion, and he gripped your wrist, holding up your injured hand.

“Why did you do this?” He clenched his jaw as everything that he'd bottled inside since the coronation spilled out of his lips, and he stared into your eyes with such an intensity, it felt as if you were being consumed by his desperation, “The blade could've been rusted, poisoned, anything! What if you ended up having to amputate your whole hand just because of this? What if you died? Did you even think about yourself for a moment?”

“I didn't,” you said softly, squeezing your eyes shut as you confessed, “I wasn't thinking about myself at all, alright?”

Hyunjin looked taken aback, “Then what were you thinking?” He asked, his voice still hard as he clutched your hand in his, “What on earth were you thinking about that could possibly make you risk your own life--”

“I was thinking about you!” You finally blurt out, looking down at your lap, too ashamed to even look him in the eye as your voice grew weak, “All I could think about was you, you getting hurt, and I realized that I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

A tense silence filled the room as you waited for Hyunjin to snap, to scoff at your weakness, to realize that you weren’t as strong as he once imagined you to be.

Your eyes widened when you felt gentle fingers tilt up your chin, guiding you to look up at Hyunjin. To your surprise, he looked almost pained as he shifted closer to you, his thumb brushing your cheek as he whispered, “Don’t say that.”

Confused, you let Hyunjin caress your soft cheeks, seeing that he looked almost desperate to touch you, “Say what?” You probed gently, reaching to rest your fingers on the back of his hand.

“That you don’t want to lose me. Don’t say things that m-make me think you love me,” Hyunjin’s voice sounded so utterly weak, and he studied your face as if you were the most previous jewel in the world. Did he always stare at you like that?

You swallowed nervously before asking softly, “What if I do love you?”

The reaction was instantaneous. Hyunjin closed the distance between your lips, smashing his against yours with so much emotion and desire that you were almost dizzy. He rested his hand on the nape of your neck, gently brushing your soft locks off of your shoulder as he deepened the kiss. This time, there wasn’t an ounce of resistance in your body. All you wanted to do was to let him in, let him sweep you off your feet and hold you close.

Hyunjin shifted, slipping an arm around your waist, and he easily lifted you in his arms, carrying you to the bed without once pulling away from the intoxicating feeling of your soft lips. Oh, how he missed them, how he’d dreamed of them for nights on end, not one dream as perfect as the reality.

“I love you,” he murmured as his lips trailed down from your cheeks to your jaw and all the way to the soft skin of your neck, “I loved you for so long.”

Even in your blissful state, you managed to grasp the meaning of his words and you choked out between his frantic kisses, “H-how long?”

“Since the wedding, I’ve known that you were going to my one and only, my one true love,” Hyunjin said softly before pulling away. He gazed down at your state, both of your hands on either side of your head, your hair fanned out on the pillow beneath you. You looked like a goddess, and he’d spend every night thanking the gods that you were his.

“I never thought--I never even imagined,” Hyunjin rambled on as he dived for your neck, sucking gently as you let out a soft noise at the sensation. It almost drove him mad, “I never even dreamed that you would say yes, much less accept me at all--”

“It’s true,” you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut as your fingers reached up, carding gently through his hair, “It didn’t happen overnight, but now I realize. I love you.”

Hyunjin let out a groan at your words as they resonated in his heart, causing it to pound uncontrollably. He pulled away just for moment, his lips hovering over yours as his hands trailed down your sides cautiously, “I love you too, my Queen. So much,” he said, pecking your lips.

You couldn’t help but smile, chuckling softly as you looked up at him, “Your Queen,” you repeated the title, finding that you loved it very much.

“Well, you are,” Hyunjin smiled in return, brushing a strand of hair away from your face before leaning down again, pressing his lips again yours as he mumbled, “my beautiful queen. The love of my life.”

Blushing, you threaded your fingers through his hair as he deepened the kiss, sucking and nibbling at your lips, causing you to giggle. Nothing felt rushed, nothing felt like one side was trying quickly to quench their desperation. It was just love, contentment, the purest form of peace.

Eventually, Hyunjin’s hands made it down to your legs, ghosting over your skin as he slipped a hand under your nightgown, freezing as he made it to your upper thigh, “Tell me if you want to stop,” he whispered, pecking your cheek.

You stared up at him, full of love and adoration as you brushed his long black hair away from his face, “I don’t ever want you to stop,” you replied with a gentle smile, and Hyunjin never denied you of anything. He dipped down, his hands playing with the hem of your gown as the two of you finally surrendered to each other, letting the world slip away until the only thing that mattered to you was Hyunjin, and the only thing that mattered to Hyunjin was you. Always you.

Ryujin never came back with your tea, having decided to leave the two of you alone when she’d first turned into the corridor. A smug smile curled on her face, and she rushed off to tell the other handmaidens that they owe her ten gold coins.

epilogue.

You were awoken with gentle lips caressing your cheek, fingers lightly dancing over your bare waist. Mumbling softly, your eyes fluttered open and your gaze fell upon Hwang Hyunjin, who was resting on his elbow as he looked down at your previously sleeping figure with nothing but pure love in his expression.

“Morning,” you smiled sleepily, giggling as Hyunjin leaned down, nuzzling his face against your cheek.

“Sleep well?” He asked, his voice scratchy from just waking up. Even so, he couldn’t seem to get enough of you, running his hand up and down your side as his lips trailed from your own lips to your cheeks to your neck.

You hummed in response, playing lightly with his hair as you looked at the sunlight spilling into the window, signaling a new day, “I don’t think we did a lot of sleep, though,” you commented, smiling when Hyunjin pulled away, pouting at you.

“Can’t you let me be romantic just once?” He whined a little as he kissed down your body, kissing your shoulder, your collarbones, your chest, trailing down until he stopped at the soft skin of your tummy.

You giggled as he paused, squirming as he drew circles with his fingers on the skin before pressing a long, gentle kiss to it, “Mm...I hope you’re pregnant…”

“Hyunjin!”

“What?” Hyunjin laughed as he dodged your light swats of indignance, crawling back up to pull you into his chest, “We’d have our little heir, and it would get those good for nothing nobles off your back,” his voice held more bite as his jaw clenched.

You placed a hand on his chest, drawing soothing circles, “Don’t worry about them,” you murmured softly, looking up into Hyunjin’s eyes, “Just for today, just this once, let’s not worry about them at all.”

Hyunjin smiled, pulling you closer as his lips brushed yours.

“I don’t have a problem with that at all.”

fin.

a/n: a sincere thank you to anyone who made it this far ;;_;;

#inkidz #districtninewriters #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin blurbs #skz oneshots #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz blurbs #my fics #skz x reader #skz x y/n #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #stray kids x reader

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buckleydiazmp4 · 3 years

Text

hi, here's a little something i wrote bc my s9 rewatch gave me a lot of feelings. sorry in advance for making you suffer with me :)

read on ao3 or below

"All right, take care", Dean says, and follows with his usual pat on the shoulder. For what may be the thousandth time since they met, he avoids Castiel's eyes, tries to ignore the guilt that comes with fucking up, which he's accepted is just what he's destined to do.

But this time, Cas' insistent gaze isn't stubbornly trying to catch his own. No, this time, the angel is looking anywhere but at him, as if his eyes would get burnt out if he stared anywhere even close to his vicinity. How ironic.

Not an angel anymore, Dean reminds himself, just to add salt to the gaping wound growing steadily in his chest. He closes his eyes just a fraction longer than a normal blink, then pulls some bills out of his wallet. He hands them out to Cas, and doesn't lift his gaze from where it's been staring out of baby's windshield for a while now.

Cas speaks after what feels like an eternity of silence, which he kept during the entire ride to the motel. "Dean, I don't need your money."

Dean feels like someone is slowly pulling on the stitches that are keeping his heart together. He knows a pathetic piece of paper doesn't fix the fact that he's dumping his best friend when he needs the most help.

Still, he stows his shame deep in the confines of his mind, knowing it'll come to bite him in the ass later, and he unsticks his eyes from the turned off 'no vacancy' sign he was just tracing with his eyes, to finally look at Cas. His eyes are dull and emotionless, almost reminding him of when they first met, when he was still following the rule of heaven, but he can still see just a sliver of sadness in the subtle droop of them. He blinks back what he thinks might be tears, and he knows his eyes are pleading, but he really couldn't care less about whatever shred of dignity he has left.

"Cas, please. Take it."

Cas looks at him, for one, two, three seconds, and Dean realizes how much he's missed the endless blue staring back at him. But it's gone again in an instant, and all that's left is Cas' calloused hand pulling the dollar bills from Dean's grip, turning around and walking the desolated parking lot towards the dingy building standing behind it.

Dean stays, and watches Cas' back, strikingly different when it's wearing a hoodie instead of a tan trenchcoat. He watches Cas' feet step slowly towards the dim yellow light coming from the front desk. He watches him pause and stare down for what feels like an eternity. He watches as he finally pushes the entrance door, and faintly hears the sound of a bell through baby's open window.

Castiel's electric blue gaze, full of betrayal and regret, stares back at him from the empty passenger seat. He closes his eyes, and is immediately greeted by the image of his best friend, messy-haired and bruised, eating a burrito on the bunker's table. Another image of him follows, dead on a chair, with an angel blade stuck to his chest. Then another, walking the short path towards the entrance door of a motel in the middle of nowhere.

Dean drives, and tries to forget.

#sara writes #fic #destiel #spn #spncreatorsdaily #creativecaviar #plantdadcas #chocolatecakecas #userstarry #offbeattraxx #userjenmish

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goldenraeofsun · 3 years

Text

Enhanced Extraction Techniques

Also available at AO3

“Cas?”

Cas whirls around. If he was standing on a normal floor, his shoes would have squeaked with the abrupt turn. In the Empty, though, his feet don’t make a sound. “Dean?” he calls back, his heart soaring in his chest.

“Cas? Where are you, man?”

Cas spins in another circle, his eyes straining against the darkness. The oppressive blankness of nothing presses against his eyeballs like an almost tangible film. He tries again, “Dean?”

“Cas?”

“Dean!” Cas takes off in the direction of Dean’s voice.

“Are you there?”

Cas walks faster, anticipation quickening his heels. “I’m coming!”

“I can’t find you!”

“I’m here!” Cas calls back desperately.

“I’m running out of time here, buddy! Spell’s not gonna last forever. Where the hell are you?”

Panicked, Cas breaks out into a run. “I’m coming, Dean!”

“Are you?”

Cas stops dead. If he was back on Earth, he would have fallen flat on his face with the momentum. He turns to his right, where Dean’s voice just came.

“Cas? You there?”

Dean’s voice definitely came from his left that time.

“I need you.”

Cas swallows. Dean’s voice is coming from directly in front of him now. Icy dread creeps up his spine, but he feels hot all over.

“You make it too easy, Castiel.”

Dean never calls him by his full name, not in more than a decade. He is not talking with Dean.

“Nobody is coming for you.”

Cas doesn’t respond. Shamed beyond reason, he just stands there because there is nothing else to do. He can’t hide from the Empty. The Empty is everywhere.

Black ooze, blacker than the surrounding darkness, bubbles up from the floor. The Empty resolves into Cas’s own face, to his surprise. He’d been expecting Dean.

It shrugs, a knowing smirk playing on its lips. “What can I say? If you’re determined to keep me awake, I might as well amuse myself.”

“Your sense of humor leaves much to be desired,” Cas says as tonelessly as he can manage.

The Empty crosses its arms over its chest. “My options are limited, aren’t they?” it says snidely. “I can’t put you to sleep, so I can’t sleep. I might as well make this experience as hellish for you as it is for me.”

Cas frowns. “You could always negate our deal. Send me back to Earth.”

The Empty laughs. “That’s not how it works. That was a one-way trip.”

Cas grinds his teeth. “Then it seems like we’re at an impasse.”

“An impasse requires two forces of equal power,” the Empty tuts. “And you, my little gnat, have no power in this equation. You are my plaything. What was it that Gabriel said? A thousand channels and nothing’s on. Except you.”

Before Cas can respond, the Empty disappears, dissolving into a tarry splatter and absorbing into whatever passes as the floor in this place.

* * *

Cas wanders. He used to sleep while he was bored, but the Empty truly reigns supreme in his dreams. Cas killed Naomi’s Dean facsimile a thousand times, a million times. He watched Dean rake leaves, Crowley whispering poisoned promises into his ear. He walked away as Dean hurts and rages silently behind him in the Bunker.

So Cas stays awake. He’s an angel. It isn’t hard.

Dean’s voice occasionally calls for him.

Cas ignores it.

He wanders for what seems like miles, like hundreds of miles. Nothing ever changes in the Empty. With every step forward, he meets the same bleak blackness. The closest comparison in his long memory is the fraction of a second before the Big Bang - there was emptiness then too, but it was filled with a pregnant sense of promise. In the Empty - nothing.

Until.

Dean is running towards him.

Cas blinks a few times to make sure, even though his vision is perfect.

“Cas,” Dean breaks the silence first, “I found you.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes - any louder, and Dean will hear the trembling. “You’re here.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean says with a wink. “Now, come on. We’re getting out of here.” He takes off in the direction he came from, glancing behind him to check on Cas.

“We are?” Cas asks, following.

Dean throws him a disbelieving look. “Of course, dude. Sam and Jack are prepping the spell to get us back to the Bunker. We got Chuck by the short and curlies, but we’re one power player short. So we gotta get a move on.”

“So you need me?” Cas asks.

“Your mojo is the ticket,” Dean says with a little grin. “Chuck wiped all the angels off the Earth except Michael. And that dick isn’t answering our prayers, so you’re our next best bet.”

The joy at seeing Dean wavers. “I am?” he asks haltingly.

Dean shrugs. “We gotta work with what we have. And we just remembered you were here, out of Chuck’s reach. Our own spare angel!”

Cas barely holds back his flinch. Hunching in on himself, he mutters, “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Don’t worry,” Dean assures him, misreading his reaction completely. “We have a plan.”

Cas sighs. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“Sam found a spell,” Dean says. “It’ll rip Chuck apart, and, since Amara’s inside him - which, gross - it’ll maintain the balance when the spell takes her apart too.”

Dean stops walking.

Cas looks around, but nothing sets aside this patch of emptiness from any other. No illuminated rift, no magic symbols, no X marking the spot - nothing.

“The catch is,” Dean says as he turns to Cas, his face regretful, “the spell needs an angel’s grace.”

In a blink of an eye, an angel blade drops into Dean’s palm.

Cas blinks. No beings but angels can manifest that particular weapon.

Dean raises the blade, fingers flexing on the handle. “You know,” he says conversationally, “Now that I think about it, we don’t actually need the angel himself - just the battery.”

Cas stands his ground, his eyes darting over Dean’s face, taking in every nuance and tell.

“I told you once,” Cas says warily, a horrible foreboding coming over him, “I’m always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.”

“Happy to hear that, Cas,” Dean says, his face impassive, “because you’re gonna bleed a lot, not gonna lie.” He shoves the blade in Cas’s chest, right above his heart.

Cas staggers back from the blow, pain and shock radiating out from the bloodless wound.

Dean raises his eyebrows, his mouth curling into a mocking smile as Cas meets his smug face. “What, were you expecting to go poof? We’re in the Empty,” he throws its hands wide, “everyone’s in stasis here, including you.”

Cas yanks the blade out of his chest, but it - and Dean - turns into black goo before he can stab anything with it.

* * *

The Empty doesn’t mimic Dean next. Instead it takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s. Every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven.

And there’s no escape. Cas can do his best not to listen, but if he retreats too far into himself, it almost counts as sleeping. With the Empty’s nudging, his thoughts will veer into his worst regrets, sooner or later.

The Empty is in the middle of lecturing him in the form of Balthazar, when it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

“Come on,” he says roughly. He strides forward to grab Cas’s hand and tug him in the other direction. “That bomb doesn’t last forever.”

“Dean?”

“Who else?” Dean yanks him sharply to the left. “This place didn’t turn your brains to scrambled eggs, did it?”

“I don’t think so,” Cas says shakily. “Dean are you really...”

“What?”

Cas can’t help looking down at their clasped hands. A fleeting thing, barely more than a glance. Still, Dean drops Cas’s hand like it burned him. “You good to run?” he asks shortly.

Cas barely nods before Dean takes off. They hurtle through the Empty, their rapid footsteps impossibly silent. Dean’s breath comes in sharp pants, and Cas’s useless wings ache, not for the first time, to fly them to their destination.

“Dean,” Cas starts, and Dean slows. “Where are we going?”

“Where I left my stuff,” Dean says shortly. “The spell to get us out of here needs a shit-ton of crap, and I couldn’t haul it all over this goddamn place while I was trying to find you.”

“How did you know your way back?”

The corners of Dean’s mouth lift in a faint smile. He points to the floor. “M&Ms.”

Cas squints at the ground, and, sure enough, they are following a trail of tiny candies. “Ingenious,” he murmurs.

“Hey, it worked with a Wendigo,” Dean says, shrugging. He directs them in a few more twists and turns before Cas sees Dean's duffle bag in the distance, topped with a bright yellow bag of M&Ms.

As they get closer, Dean pulls out an angel blade from inside his jacket.

Cas balks.

Dean shoots him a puzzled look as he hands it to him. “It won’t kill anything here, obviously,” he says, unzipping his bag. He pulls out a copper bowl and bundles of herbs, “But having a weapon’s never a bad idea in unknown dimensions.”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas surveils their inky surroundings, already on high alert for any trespassers.

“Watch my back, okay?” Dean glances over his shoulder. Various ingredients get dropped into the bowl with outsized clangs and dribbles that seem to echo in the void around them.

Cas stays vigilant.

“This was easier than I thought it would be,” Dean mutters as the bowl’s contents start to smoke.

“Don’t jinx it,” Cas mutters out of the side of his mouth.

Dean chuckles under his breath. “I didn’t think angels believed in jinxes.”

It’s not like Cas has been especially angelic these past few years. He says shortly, “I’ve found you can never be too careful.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Need your blood for this part,” he says, shuffling over to make room. “Wait,” Dean says before Cas can press the blade againt his skin.

“Yes?”

“This is the last step,” Dean says seriously. “Once your blood goes in, it’s liftoff. So I wanted to get a couple things straight before we’re back in the Bunker.”

Cas doesn’t need to breathe, but if he did, his breath would have hitched in his chest at the closed-off look on Dean’s face. “Of course.”

“What you said - what you told me,” Dean starts, his voice hard, “before you got sucked to this hellscape.” He drops his gaze to the bowl cradled in his hands, “That’s not me.”

Cas presses his lips together, struggling to keep his face impassive. Once he regains control of himself he says, “I did not expect you to reciprocate when I told you about my feelings for you.”

Dean actively recoils at the mention of feelings. He gives the bowl a little toss, and a few of the contents spill onto the floor. “Just, forget it,” he says brusquely, gathering everything up again.

“Dean-”

He turns to Cas, his eyes blazing. “But - you know what? I can’t forget it.”

Cas opens his mouth, but Dean is not done.

“How could you offload all that shit on me right before you fucked off to parts unknown?” he demands, voice rising in anger and volume. “Of all the goddamn things you could have said to me - that takes the fucking cake. You were my best friend -” he breaks off, shaking his head. “Worst moment of my goddamn life.”

Cas takes a step back, a sickly horror trickling down his spine. “I didn’t think-”

But Dean’s not listening. “I had serious doubts about coming here at all,” he continues, and the last Dean had stabbed him in the chest - how is this so much worse? “But Sam gave me those goddamn puppy dog eyes, and don’t even get me started on Jack-”

“I understand,” Cas interrupts stiffly. He inhales a deep breath he doesn’t need and continues, “Once we return to the Bunker, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Probably for the best,” Dean mutters.

Cas cuts his forearm, watching with perverse fascination as the blood wells up and drips into the bowl waiting below.

There’s a violent burst of light and sound.

In the aftermath, Cas can only make out Dean’s mocking laughter. Before Cas can say a word, it turns into Meg’s delighted giggles. And then Gabriel’s howls of mirth.

* * *

Cas sleeps after getting deceived for the third time. Anything is better than seeing the smug face of the Empty, whether it’s wearing Dean’s face, Gadreel’s, or Ruby’s.

He breaks the wall in Sam’s head.

He lets Lucifer possess him in a futile plan.

He beats Dean to a bloody mess for the Angel Tablet.

Occasionally, the Empty grants him release, and Cas gets to deliver a bad joke to Uriel in Mesopotamia or Dean calls him a baby in a trenchcoat in a diner.

Time passes. Cas has no idea how long. There’s no sun - no moon - no cycling of the heavens. Only emptiness.

He gets shaken awake.

Cas blinks up at a pair of very familiar green eyes. “Dean,” he says, more or less resigned.

“Jesus,” Dean says as he sits back on his heels, “Way to make a guy feel welcome. I’m here to save your sorry ass, in case you were wondering. A full week of tearing my hair out over how to get you outta here, and this is the thanks I get.”

Cas sits up. “My apologies,” he says tentatively as he studies Dean’s face. There’s no sign it isn’t really Dean.

Then again, none of the others showed signs either.

Cas gets to his feet, asking, “Are you alone?”

Dean glances around them warily. “Yeah, Sam and Jack are keeping the portal open in the Bunker. They wanted to come,” he says, his eyes raking over Cas’s face, drinking him in. “They’ll be over the fucking moon to see you again.”

Cas swallows. “And you?”

“I -” A dull flush comes over Dean’s cheeks. He looks away.

Cas’s face shutters. “Right,” he says as he stands in front of Dean. “Now what?”

“Hey,” Dean says, reaching out to grasp his left shoulder, a mirror of the mark Cas left on him so long ago and so recently. “I missed you too. You have to know that.”

Worst moment of my life.

Cas looks away, Dean’s own raised voice echoing in his head.

“Hey,” Dean says again, gentler this time. His green eyes bore into Cas’s face. “What’s going on in that celestial brain of yours?”

The words catch in Cas’s throat, a lump of embarrassment and fear keeping them there. Embarrassment that the Empty deceived him. Fear that the Empty was right.

“Look, I know we didn’t leave things on great terms,” Dean says awkwardly, “and maybe this isn’t the best place to talk about it, but I’m so fucking happy to see you, man.” He chuckles ruefully. “’S making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Even if it’s only a facsimile of Dean - and there’s no way to tell for certain - seeing his face not contorted in anger or mockery is like a balm on Cas’s soul. If he had one, that was.

“About what you said before you got taken-” Dean starts.

Cas’s heart sinks.

“No,” Dean says, his voice low and gentle, “listen to me. I get that happiness for you might just be in the being, but for me-”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Cas interrupts. “I meant that, truly. You don’t have to-”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says, smiling slightly, “You’re not making this easy are you?”

Cas bites his tongue to keep from contradicting Dean again.

“As I was saying,” Dean continues pointedly, his green eyes shining, “For me, happiness isn’t in the being - whatever the hell that means. It’s in the goddamn having.”

Cas bites his tongue harder, the pain hardly registering against the burst of hope fluttering wildly in his chest. “Dean,” he forces out, “You can’t mean…”

“Cas,” Dean starts, and Cas’s heart breaks - or mends. He can’t tell. He has no idea who he is talking to, and it’s, to borrow a phrase from the real Dean, an epic mindfuck.

“Cas,” the Dean standing in front of him repeats, and Cas’s gaze automatically draws back to his face, “Good things do happen.”

Cas chuckles wetly. He has no choice but to say, “Not in my experience.”

Dean takes a step closer, far into the personal space he’d shown Cas so many years ago. Brows drawing together, he raises a hand to cup Cas’s face. “Someone told me a while ago that having faith was important. Seems you’re a little short there, buddy.”

Cas tries to duck his head, but Dean won’t let him. Eventually, he admits, “My faith has been tested recently.”

“But you didn’t give up, right?” Dean asks, leaning in close enough that Cas can feel the warmth of his breath in the air between them.

Cas shakes his head minutely. “No,” he murmurs, “not entirely.”

“Good,” Dean says, pausing just shy of Cas’s mouth. Waiting.

Cas steels himself and closes distance.

Just before their lips touch, Dean implodes in a burst of inky ooze.

* * *

Cas breaks several knuckles on the floor of the Empty. There are no walls to punch, no blade to send heads rolling. Cas works with what he has.

The real Dean would probably approve.

Dean shows up again before too long. This Dean goes so far as to tell Cas he loves him.

Cas turns his back on Dean’s heartbroken face. He refuses to engage.

He wanders instead.

* * *

Cas hears the footsteps before he sees his next Dean.

“Cas!” he pants, “Thank fuck. I thought I was never going to find you.”

Cas merely sighs.

Dean makes a face. “Way to roll out the welcome wagon,” he says, clearly offended. “I would’ve thought you were sick of this place by now.”

Cas purses his lips. “I am.”

“Shocker,” Dean says with a little smile. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time, so you gotta follow me.”

Cas doesn’t budge. He’d rather roam this place for eternity than suffer at the hands of another Dean facsimile. And he had thought he saw enough of them under Naomi’s tutelage. He’d been so naive.

Dean stares at him like Cas just stripped naked and danced the macarena. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not real,” Cas says bluntly.

Dean gapes. “Of course I’m real! Chuck’s de-powered, and Jack… well, it’s a long story. Bottom line: nobody’s pulling our strings but us.”

Cas lets out a derisive laugh.

Dean’s eyebrows rise, but he barrels on, “So it’s time to get a move on. Up and at ‘em, sunshine.” He jerks his head off to the right.

Cas stays where he is. “No.”

“What the hell?” Dean has the gall to tug on Cas’s sleeve like he’s a wayward toddler. “Come on. You’re not making any sense.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Cas retorts. It’s not his best rejoinder, but he’s been very stressed lately.

Whatever Dean was about to say dies on his tongue as he stares at Cas in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?” He shakes his head before Cas can respond, saying, “Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out later. But now, you’ve gotta come with me.”

Cas levels him a flat glare. This one is more stubborn than the last, more like the real Dean. “Why should I?”

“Because you don’t deserve to be stuck here?” Dean says, gesturing to the void around them. “You saved the world, Cas.” He swallows. “You saved me. Getting you out is the least we can do.”

“Because you need me to take on Chuck,” Cas says.

“No?” Dean says, his eyes narrowing. “I already told you, Chuck’s off the playing board.”

“Because you feel guilty about leaving me here.”

“No - wait, I do, but,” Dean breaks off, irritated, “you know what I mean.”

Cas doesn’t, so he continues in the same vein as before, “Because you love me.”

Dean hesitates. “I’m working on it.”

Cas snorts. At least the last Dean had the balls to say it. Many times. While crying.

“What?” Dean throws up his hands. “You just sprung it on me, dude! I didn’t even know angels could feel things like that, and it took me by surprise, okay? I’m only human, and sometimes we need time to get used to ideas. Like when we found out Snooki was a demon. Yeah, the signs were there, and it makes sense, but still - you sometimes need it spelled out for you.”

Cas pauses. None of the other Deans had referenced pop culture. “How long ago was this for you?”

“Since we summoned Snooki?”

At Cas’s icy look of disdain, Dean hedges, “A month? Give or take.” He glares. “First we had to deal with Chuck, and it took a while to find a spell to get here. Remember, we didn’t even know this was a place before you died the last time. The Men of Letters weren’t a shit ton of help, for once.”

Cas crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just… hear me out,” Dean says. “There’s a portal to get us home. Sam and Jack can’t stall the Empty forever.”

That was new. “Jack and Sam aren’t in the Bunker?”

“No,” Dean says as he takes off in the opposite direction, all but forcing Cas to follow to find out more. “They’re up in Heaven.”

“Why?”

“Because the Empty can’t get to Earth without a summoning spell, which, as far as we can tell, doesn’t exist?” Dean says, checking over his shoulder to make sure Cas is still within earshot. “But you made that fucking stupid deal in Heaven, so we knew it could at least travel there. Jack zapped Sam to the Pearly Gates, and they’re hopefully making a distraction while I get you out.”

Still not entirely convinced, Cas asks begrudgingly, “And where are we going?”

“A portal,” Dean says confidently. “This place is a little like Purgatory, apparently. If it senses a human here, it’ll create a portal to spit them out again.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder. “So here I am, 100% genuine human to bail your ass out.”

“Thank you?”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean says with a wink.

Cas scowls. The first Dean had winked at him too.

“Jesus, tough crowd,” Dean mutters as they head further into the Empty.

Cas scans the ground, but there are no small candies lining the way. “How do you know where to go?”

“Turns out, Sam could find a spell for that,” Dean says as he holds up his left hand - clutching his amulet. The Empty must have really hunted around in his memories for that one, even more so than the Wendigo case. He hasn’t seen the real amulet in nearly five years. “It heats up when I’m on the right track towards the exit.”

“So no M&Ms?”

Dean turns to him. “I told you about that?”

Cas stares straight ahead, willing his face to fall into an expressionless mask. The real Dean had told him about the Wendigo over dinner with Sam and Mary while she was still alive, or the Empty wouldn’t be able to use it as inspiration now.

Dean shakes his head, smiling. “Man, I haven’t thought about that case in forever.” He glances at Cas, his face sobering. “You really don’t believe this is real?”

“No.”

He can’t. Not again.

Dean sighs as he steers them slightly to the right. “Come on, I’m almost getting third degree burns from this thing. We must be close.”

Sure enough, a blue swirling portal comes into view, a pinprick of light in the distance at first, elongating into an exact replica of the Purgatory exit as they approach.

“Finally,” Dean mutters, his face impassive. He turns to Cas. “Just… don’t stay behind,” he grimaces, “again.”

This version has been the most true to Dean - less callous than the first, more caring than the second, more guarded than the third. It will hurt the most when this one falls apart. Maybe it would be better if Cas heads it off at the pass instead of letting the whole painstaking ruse play out all the way through.

If the Empty could get it over with, Cas will go back to sleep. Anything is better than this torture.

Cas takes a step back, away from the portal. “This is pointless-”

“Jesus Christ, Cas!” Dean throws his hands in the air. “I don’t get it at all. You don’t think you deserve to be saved?”

Cas gapes at him.

Dean continues heatedly, “If an ex-demon with anger management problems and rap sheet a mile long deserved to be saved, I think a legit angel should get the same.”

Cas shakes his head. “I’m hardly a prime example of an angel anymore.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Have I ever cared about that?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Glad we can agree on something,” Dean cuts him off. “Now, are you going to go through the portal or am I gonna have to drag you? I’ll do it,” he threatens. “Don’t test me.”

Cas wavers. Everything in him says to follow Dean. But this isn’t the real Dean - this is the Empty waiting for the glorious moment when it can yank the illusion away, leaving Cas a little more broken than before.

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Fuck you,” he spits, “You can’t trust me just a little-”

“Trust?” Cas echoes as he strides forward to grab the lapels of Dean’s jacket, his voice rising in a mixture of outrage, desperation, and heartache, “You want me to trust you? After you’ve lied to me, deceived me - after you stabbed me, after you told me I put you through the worst moment of your life the last time you saw me, after you made me think you returned my feelings only to - only to-”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “But I didn’t do any of that.”

“You did,” Cas says fervently, shaking Dean a little - or maybe that’s his trembling hands. “You did - you’ve been putting me through hell since I got here, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you.”

Dean’s expression hardens. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do,” Cas swears. “I’m done pretending.”

Dean his eyes flicking down to Cas’s mouth. “What do you know,” he breathes, “so am I.”

Cas freezes, waiting for Dean to dissolve into a puddle of goo in his hands.

Dean kisses him instead.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips to his, Cas jerks back in surprise and horror.

He falls straight into the portal.

The Empty vanishes in a blur of too-bright light.

* * *

Cas comes to in the middle of a field. The sun shines overhead. Noon, Cas registers distantly as he looks around. Dean’s sprawled on the prairie grasses next to him, already waking up judging by the groaning noises.

“Dean?”

Dean opens his eyes, glances at the sky, and closes them again. “Oh great, we made it.”

Cas tentatively picks his way closer to Dean’s side. He stands over him for a moment, shuffling to the side so he doesn’t block the sunlight falling on Dean’s face. “We’re on Earth.”

“Well, it’s sure as shit not Mars,” Dean grumbles, eyes still closed. “Are you watching me right now? I feel like you’re watching me right now.”

Cas stares around the field. “Not anymore,” he says, and a genuine breeze blows against his face. What a marvel.

“‘S okay,” Dean says as he wiggles a little on the grass, getting more comfortable, “’M used to it.”

Cas turns to him. “It’s really you.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean cracks his eyes open, one corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile. “You believe me now?”

“This could be the most elaborate ruse yet.”

Dean lifts his head up. “Seriously? You dick, I did not haul ass all the way-”

“I don’t really believe that, however,” Cas says before Dean can work himself up too much.

“Good.” He meaningfully thumps the grass next to him. “Sit. You’re giving me serious Law & Order vibes.”

Cas’s brow furrows. “I don’t get that reference. I know about Law & Order-”

“And how does every episode of Law & Order start?” Dean interrupts, “With someone standing over a dead body in a field.”

Cas takes a seat. “Not always a field. Most episodes show corpses in urban areas, or, once, a yacht.”

“Pretty sure it was more than once. I hate procedural cop shows.”

“They are very formulaic,” Cas admits, stretching out his legs, “and lack the drama of soap operas.”

“I’m just saying, if a long lost sibling doesn’t pop out of the woodwork or if the main character isn’t killed off at least six times, is it really worth watching?”

Cas levels him a flat look. “Dean, all those things have happened to you.”

Dean snorts. “At least none of us got amnesia.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

Dean turns his head to stare at him, a wide grin spreading across his face as he laughs. “Oh shit, you're right. How the hell did I forget?”

“Because of supreme irony, most likely.”

It takes Dean a moment to get it, but when he does, he laughs even louder.

Cas doesn’t have anything to add, so he lets the conversation peter off into silence, listening to Dean’s even breathing and the grass rustling in the gentle wind.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” Dean says in an undertone.

Cas turns to him. Dean’s eyes are closed again, but everything else about him radiates a quiet tension Cas might’ve missed anywhere else. But here, in this field, nothing prevents Cas from honing on Dean’s whole being with everything he has. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“I dunno,” Dean says, his face scrunching up, “I thought it would be more awkward. But… it doesn’t feel any different.”

Cas blinks. “Why should it?” he asks, and though he’s not definitively sure what Dean means by ‘it’, he has a very strong suspicion.

Dean shoots him a pointed look. “Because you don’t tell someone you love them and expect everything to be OK after.”

Cas lays down next to Dean. Staring up at the wispy clouds overhead, he says, “If it changes anything, I didn’t expect to be around for the after part.” Dean’s head turns to look at him, but Cas can’t bring himself to see whatever expression is on his face. “If you’d like for us to go our separate ways after this, I understand.”

“You stupid bastard,” Dean mutters vehemently, “for the last goddamn time, I did not piss off the immortal Blob just to tell you to go fuck yourself in person.”

Cas inhales a slow breath, breathing in the dirt, wildflowers growing nearby, and Dean. “You kissed me,” he says.

“You said you loved me,” Dean shoots back.

“Did you mean it?”

“Did you?”

Cas grimaces as he turns his head to face him. “I thought it was obvious.”

Dean swallows. “No, it wasn’t,” he says quietly, “but I’ve never been good at that stuff.”

Cas squints at him. “You are the most emotionally intelligent man I’ve ever met.”

“What?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You expertly navigate and manipulate people’s emotions to get them to talk to you, open up to you, have sex with you,” he lists. “It’s extraordinary to witness.”

Dean makes a choking noise. “Dude,” he says, which tells Cas absolutely nothing. A few more clouds pass by before Dean speaks again. “I guess the signs were there - with you. But I didn’t want to put them together.”

“Why not?”

Dean shrugs, his shoulders scraping almost inaudibly against the soil and grass stems. “Just didn’t.”

“Then that’s why I didn’t tell you. But, Dean-” Cas breaks off. This part of the conversation, despite what Dean said earlier, does not feel the same as others between them.

Dean’s eyes flick to his. “Yeah?”

“You kissed me.”

Dean inhales a sharp breath. “I did,” he says at last.

Cas waits, but Dean doesn’t elaborate. “Was it just a ploy to get me to leave the Empty?”

“No.”

Cas grimaces. Not for the first time, his life would be so much easier if Dean could communicate without speaking in riddles or hiding every third word he wanted to say. “Dean...”

“I told you I’m working on it,” Dean says defensively.

Cas closes his eyes. “What does that mean?” he asks, his voice strained.

“It means I’m working on it,” Dean says shortly. But before Cas can press him further, he lets out an explosive sigh. “It means I don’t want to hear any more goodbyes from you. It means - it means that kiss wasn’t too bad, right?”

“I thought you were a fake version of yourself created to torture me for eternity,” Cas says flatly.

Dean props himself up on his elbows. “So all I’m hearing is there’s room for improvement.”

Cas rolls his eyes as Dean scoots closer, peering down at him. “I suppose that’s one way you could look at it.”

“Would you wanna... do something like that again?” Dean asks, his expression confident while his voice is anything but.

“Only if you want to,” Cas says seriously.

Dean licks his lips. He nods once, the movement stilted.

“Should I sit up?” Cas asks, frowning, as he half-lifts his head. “Or do you want to lay back down-”

“Cas,” Dean says impatiently, “it’s kissing we’re talking about here, not Twister.”

“I have played that game before.”

“Yeah, I remember now,” Dean says, a tentative smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth. “You ever do it naked?”

Cas frowns. “There was a strict policy against nudity in the psychiatric ward.”

Dean ducks his head, laughing silently. His forehead lands on Cas’s sternum, his breath warming Cas’s chest from the outside in.

“You were trying to say something arousing,” Cas says, a beat too late.

Dean shakes his head, grinning. “Something like that.”

“I would like to play naked Twister with you.”

Dean’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Glad to hear it,” he says as he leans over Cas. Cas goes a bit cross-eyed to keep him in view until Dean murmurs, “Relax. ‘S just me.”

In the instant before their lips meet, Cas half-expects the whole world around him to splatter apart in a tidal wave of black, otherworldly goo. But Dean is gloriously solid, gloriously human, as he cradles Cas’s half-raised head, his fingers tangling in his hair.

The midday sun shines; the grass whispers in the wind; and Cas is saved.

#destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #15x18 au #15x20 au #fix-it #canon divergence #canon au #profoundnet #rae writes fic #psychological torture #angst

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 3 years

Text

It's Just a Movie: Part 16 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader) fic

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing, descriptions of blood/violence, child injury (a la Interview With a Vampire), angst

Word Count: 2563

Star was growing more miserable by the minute. She'd been a runaway, and she was happy to stay at the cave. Until she noticed that she was beginning to change. You had no choice but to watch her go through it, but you found that the boys didn't haze her nearly as harshly as they'd hazed Michael. You didn't know if it was because you were there to witness it, or because Michael had been a special case.

Either way, they still took her out one night, and you were tasked with staying at the cave, at home, until they returned. They were all a bit giddy, either with the idea of a bigger feast than normal or the nervous energy running through all of them. Paul was practically bouncing off the walls before he left, and he stole a sloppy kiss right in front of the brunette. Star had already become semi-accustomed to the relationship you had with all of them, including the platinum haired blonde, and you did your best to not be jealous as David kept up with the plot of the movie. He only barely flirted with her, enough to give her an idea, and the three others made sure you didn't notice David's absence. Well, Paul could probably do it completely by himself.

Still, you caught her looking at the way Paul cupped your face in his large hands, bending over from his standing position so he could meet where you were curled on the couch. He practically trapped you back against it, and you knew that if you were to tangle your hands into his blonde locks he might decide to ditch the feast altogether. You almost wanted him to. You tugged on his bottom lip with your teeth, earning a surprised noise from him. A smile bloomed over his face as he pulled away, excitement swirling in his eyes. To your surprise, he said,

"Catch ya later, doll-face." Before he was whooping and hollering, bounding up the steps. Marko stopped to kiss you before he followed. It was just a quick peck so he wouldn't fall too far behind the other blonde, but far more sweet than the others had been. He gave your cheek a pinch, and he walked backwards as he gave you a mischievous smile. The way his lips curled distorted his angelic face, making it appear devilish in the fire-light. His fingers gave you an all too familiar wave.

"Goodnight, y/n." He teased, and you sent him a small glare. You called,

"Be good!" As he bounded up the rock wall to follow the tallest of the blondes. He cackled in response, and you knew that he had no intention of listening to you. You sighed, but Dwayne was quick to steal your attention.

He, being the tallest, didn't even try to bend down to meet you. He simply sat besides you, one of his hands going to your lap to take one of yours. You supposed that all your boys could read you like a book, but Dwayne had a weird way of always knowing what you were thinking. You gave his hand a squeeze and let a small sigh escape your lips, letting your head fall on his shoulder. The hand not intertwined with yours curled around your jaw, massaging it lightly as if to massage away the inkling of doubt circling inside your mind.

"We'll be back soon." He said, but you avoided his eyes. You played with his fingers, a thought floating around your mind. When you looked at him, you knew he could see it clearly. You could stay. You thought, but Dwayne only gave you a sympathetic smile. He pressed a small kiss to your lips, and then one to your hairline. The actions spoke clearly, You know I can't. And you stopped yourself from letting out another sigh as he went to stand. He kissed the back of your hand before he let go, and you watched his tall form climb up the rocky entrance in a couple of well-placed lands of his feet.

The last was David. Most of the past week had been spent entertaining the other girl of your group, but it felt like an eternity. His ocean blue eyes claimed yours when you looked at him. You stood to meet him, and one of his gloved hands cupped your chin. You stared at him, silent words passing between the two of you.

They already knew what to expect. They'd take Star to see what she was, she would refuse to eat, and then she'd probably end up taking some time for herself. Since this was the only place she could dodge the sleepiness the sun would settle on her, they knew she'd be back by morning.

You looked away for a moment, catching eyes with the girl that stood by the fountain. She looked confused, interested, as if she was trying to catch whatever was passing between the two of you. Between all five of you. Your eyes flicked away and, on instinct, you reached up to touch David's cheek with the back of your hand. It was a simple graze, but it made him close his eyes for a moment. It spoke exactly what you needed to hear. David missed you just as much as you missed him, and, hopefully, in a few weeks they wouldn't have to worry about Max, the Frogs, Star, or the Emerson's anymore. He moved his head to kiss the back of your fingers before you retracted your hand, and then he said,

"You'll be fine." It was as affectionate as he'd been the past few days, being purposely vague and colder for the sake of listening ears. That was all he could promise, you knew. No matter how this went, you'd be fine. He gave your chin a squeeze, and then he was retracting his hand. You went to touch where his hand had been as he turned away, beckoning to the brunette with a simple gesture of his hand, and the two of them climbed up to where the others were. Leaving you safe, but wondering.

They returned a few hours later, with nothing much to tell. It had gone as expected, yet the rejection still seemed to weigh heavily on them. The five of you took the time to relax around the cave, now that there were no prying eyes or anyone to suspect anything. You sat in David's lap, playing with his fingers as he stroked your neck. You listened to his breathing, leaning up to brush your lips against his neck. You could practically feel the way he smiled, his hand smoothing over your hair as he pulled you tighter. Though, when you heard a clatter from above, David helped you stand from his lap and you went to Markos arms instead. You didn't know what you expected when Star came back, but the sight of her bloody and carrying a body in her arms wasn't it. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand, and both David and Dwayne lifted to their feet in less than a second.

"What did you do?" David snapped, almost without a thought. They moved quickly, crossing the distance between her and them without pause. Marko, without thinking, moved you so you were behind him. He blocked you with his body, keeping you out of reach and out of sight. David and Dwayne were by the brunette girls side in less than a second, with Paul standing close but away from the smell of blood. You watched as David peeled the body from her arms, as he was always able to control himself the best. And Dwayne's mouth opened in shock as looked down at the body. Her words seemed to fall deaf on Dwayne's ears as she gripped his jacket, but you heard them all too well.

"I didn't- Please, god, help him. He's just a boy. I didn't mean- Please, help him, David." She shrieked, turning her attention to the blonde. David stared at the broken body in his hands, quickly telling her to,

"Shut up." Before he looked at Dwayne for just a fraction of a moment. Dwayne pulled himself out of Stars grip, taking long strides as he rushed past where you and Marko stood. You stared at Star, seeing the blood decorating her face, neck, and chest. As if she had tried to wipe it away with not much success. Then, you let your eyes flick to the body in David's arms. You couldn't see his face, but you could see his light brown hair. Long and splayed against the black of David's coat. You gripped Markos arm almost painfully, but neither of you could pull your eyes from the sight. Dwayne returned with a bejeweled bottle, and you caught Dwayne's arm without thinking. Quickly, you said,

"Dwayne, he's-" But Marko pulled your arm away from the brunette, letting him resume his quickened pace and cutting you off. Dwayne walked away without so much as a glance, and had never been cold to you before. But Marko was stealing your focus before you had time to dwell on it. He turned away from the sight, acting as a block from the view instead of a block from just the threat Star posed. He took your face into his hands, quickly whispering,

"If we don't, he's going to die." Marko whispered, but Star obviously still heard him from the audible slap that came from her hand covering her mouth. She sobbed, and you saw out of the corner of your eye how Paul moved then. He pulled Star to his chest, pulling her away from David and Dwayne as they did what they inevitably had to do. You tried to argue with the blonde in front of you. Sure, none of you knew how Laddie would be turned, but it wasn't supposed to be like this. Marko smoothed his hands over your cheeks and said, "His heart is slowing. She took too much blood. He won't make it to the hospital." As tears gathered in your eyes. You stomped your foot in a feeble attempt at protest, but Marko was wrapping his arms around you and hugging you.

You didn't see them give Laddie the wine, but you could hear the way Star protested. The way she cursed the boys for making her what she was. How she struggled against Paul's iron grip hold. Blamed them for her attack of the boy in David's arms. Marko jolted you as he whipped his head around, snapping,

"You're the one that attacked him, Star. So, watch your fucking mouth." He snarled, and Star practically shrunk into the other blonde. Before he could say anything else, you placed a hand on his chest and whispered his name. He frowned at the girl, but turned his attention away from her to look where you were staring.

Marko had pulled away only a bit, but it gave you enough of a view to see the tallest of the blondes. He was staring ahead, at what you assumed was the sight of Dwayne and David doing their best to rescue the little boy the only way they knew how. His face was blank, and he held the brunette tightly. Rubbed Stars back almost absently. Like his thoughts were far off elsewhere.

Everyone was silent after Star stopped, opting to sob into Paul's shoulder. There was a long moment, and Marko turned so the both of you could see the little boy. He was still mostly hidden from the way David held him, only really able to see the top of his head and David's back. Both of the boys were on their knees, with Dwayne in full view. The bottle was in his hands, and he was gripping it almost tight enough to shatter. Finally, there was a little cough from the otherwise silent boy, and a blanket of relief seemed to settle over the room. David traded the boy for the bottle, and Dwayne had his eyes set on the couch. Both you and Marko moved to let him through, and the pair of you watched as he set him as gingerly as he could on the cushions. Dwayne brushed his hair from his face and Paul appeared from the side, a blanket in his arms. Dwayne took it without a word, the blonde being eerily just as silent. He set it gently on top of the boy, tucking him in as lightly as he could. Paul backed away, moving to stand on your other side. He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you reached up to give it a small squeeze. The three of you watched, and none of you noticed the way David approached Star.

With the bottle no longer in his hands, he approached her as calmly as he could. She was still sniffling, but she swiped his hand away when he went to reach for her. Still, he grabbed her wrist.

"What happened?" He demanded, and Stars looked away as new tears threatened to spill over. Davids threw her wrist away, grabbing her shoulders. Forcing her to look at him. "Star. Tell me." He said, and Star couldn't help the stream of tears.

"No one saw you." He said, covering up his reasoning for asking. David sighed. "This is your fault Star, so he's your responsibility. Got it?" He said, his words like ice. You looked over, finally being able to draw your eyes from the slowly recovering boy. From how Dwayne was gently cleaning him. Long enough to see how she nodded, before wiping her eyes and retreating to her room.

"I- I ran away and went- went farther down the beach. He was all alone. His parents- I saw them walk away and I didn't- I didn't think. I just acted." She said, and a wave of relief relaxed his hold. He let her go, lightly pushing her away. She hadn't killed his parents. Hadn't attacked anyone else. While it wasn't for lack of trying, she hadn't killed anyone. She was still a half. Their plan could still work.

Your eyes returned to the boy again when he whined, and Dwayne was quick to shush him. He stroked his face for a moment, and Paul left your side to sit on the arm of the chair, perching himself above him. He smiled down at the little kid, saying,

"Hey, bud. You're gonna be okay, okay? Just chill out and let Dwayne take care of you. Cool, man?" He said, as the child tried to blink away the pull of unconsciousness. Whether that was from the effect of the wine or of the blood loss, you couldn't tell. You rarely got to see the boys use their abilities, but you watched as David walked over and pressed a hand on Laddies forehead. He murmured the word,

"Sleep." And then he pulled away. You saw how Laddies head rolled light to the side, and Dwayne only left momentarily to come back. He was ripping a shirt to shreds, and Paul started to whine,

"Dude, that's my-" Only to be silenced by a single glare from Dwayne. Quickly, he grumbled, "Nevermind." And moved as Dwayne leaned over the boy to bandage him up and stop him from losing anymore blood.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #paul the lost boys #the lost boys marko #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #the lost boys star #star the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

smoke and fire (epilogue I)

word count; 4116

summary; after everything that happened, thomas just really wants to make sure everyone knows its official.

notes; you get a little bit more of thomas’ history here, but not much, just a sweet bonus.

warnings; not a one.

“Are you freaking out?”

“What? No, of course not. Why would I be freaking out? Because I’m meeting your mom?” You spoke too fast, your words slurring together a little, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself, Thomas’ brows raising silently as though so say ‘I told you so’ without actually saying it. “Totally fine. Just nervous, because it’s a big deal. A big deal that I told you we don’t have to take yet, you don’t have to rush me into meeting your mom just because of what happened the other month.”

Thomas picked up one of your hands, lifting it up to press a kiss to your palm before smoothing it over his cheek, undoing his seatbelt and leaning across the central dash towards you. Your fingers slipped up a little further, into his hair, and you tore your sights away from the care home in front of you to look more clearly at him. Pulling you a little closer with a hand on your jaw, his lips met your own.

Soft and slow, he kissed away your fears, his lips working with your own and tempting you into kissing him back as he pulled away your worries. His tongue teased over your lower lip, prompting you to lean a little further, nose bumping as you moved to the side, and your hand tightened in his hair. Parting your lips for him, he let out a breathy little whine against your lips, his tongue dragging across yours softly.

Trying to get a little closer, you pushed up into him, the safety belt locking across your chest, and you huffed out as your breath was forced from your lungs, jolting you away from Thomas as it pulled you back, a fraction of space between you both and he chuckled against your lips.

“Don’t be nervous, angel, she’s gonna’ love you.” He waited for a second, dipping down to press another kiss to your lips when you still hesitated, and his hand reached over, unclipping your seatbelt for you this time, so that you could press up into him. One hand settled behind your back, fingers dancing along your spine until it was sitting on your lower back, and you sighed against his mouth as he soothed you with slow kisses.

“Okay, okay. I’m ready. I think.” You placed a hand on his chest, pushing him backwards after a final kiss, and when his eyes fluttered open, lips a little darker pink than normal, he beamed at you, your confidence only growing with his gaze.

“That’s my girl.” He stepped out from the car, snatching the keys from the ignition and tucking them into his pocket, jogging around the car as you opened your door, and he took it from you, letting you step out of the car. Brushing down the skirt of your sundress, you frowned down at yourself, hoping that you looked presentable, and that the floral material hadn't gained any major wrinkles from the drive over, still wanting to look smart when you met Thomas’ mother. “You look beautiful, and you changed your dress, like, three times, but you were gorgeous in all of them. You look perfect.”

He was holding up your cardigan, letting you turn around to slip your arms into it, sealing the pastel-coloured material over your shoulders, and rubbing lightly at your upper arms when you twisted to face him again. He moved around to the trunk, the back already open as he’d fetched your cardigan while you were adjusting your dress, and you followed him to the back.

Inside was your bag, alongside the picnic basket the two of you had constructed and packed this morning, and a rolled-up blanket on top, surrounded by the various other items Thomas had in his trunk. Taking your bag, you placed it on your shoulder, shuffling through it to check you had everything, and taking out the sunglasses of Thomas’ that you’d put in there, unfolding them and placing them on the bridge of his nose, a soft smile on his lips when you did.

He paused, leaning in to press a delicate kiss to your forehead for the gesture, before pushing them up to sit on the top of his head, for now. “You’re supposed to be making me feel better, but now you seem all nervous and it's making me jittery again.”

Your joke was a little unsteady, and Thomas let out a weak laugh, his hand settling on your hips as he turned to face you, back to the sun, and tall stature blocking your eyes from staring into the rays. “There’s just this one thing, before we go in. It's something for you, I don’t think it can really count as a gift because it was about a dollar from Walmart when I was getting ingredients, so..” His words trailed off, and he reached behind himself, plucking a white-wood frame from inside, and handing it to you.

“A picture frame?” His jaw dropped slightly, working out how to explain whatever was going on inside his mind, and you stepped a little closer. “You want to put me on your picture wall?”

“No.” He huffed, a frown forming on your face. “Well, yes, obviously. But, those are my public pictures. Those are the ones visitors see, and I want one of you up there, with Newt and Brenda and the team, maybe one of you and my mom, but not with this frame.” He lifted one hand from your waist, running a finger along the edge, while staring down at it. “This is a new frame. I’ve never had a picture on my bedside table before, but I was thinking we could take one, and put it there.”

His voice went quiet, turning to a whisper that was barely audible as he went on, before he was eventually, and you took the frame, reaching past him, your body pressing to his as you let it fall back into the trunk of the car. His arms wrapped tighter around you, pulling you flush up to him, and you let out a low series of giggles as your arms looped his neck. Pulling him down, you dragged your lips over his, a groan of impatience from Thomas making you close the gap, his lips meeting yours.

Brushing your fingers through his hair, he relaxed, sagging into you slightly as you untangled the locks gently as your mouths meshed together, before you were pulling back for breath, sharing the air between you in shallow pants.

“I love you, Thomas.”

He stiffened again for a second, before he was pecking your lips quickly, stealing another kiss, and another, and another, making you laugh against him as he kissed you quickly, fingers tickling at your sides as he hugged you impossibly close, his own face breaking with a grin and making it impossible for him to continue kissing you. “Do you mean that?”

“Totally. I’ve known it for a couple of weeks now, but I wanted to wait until it meant something more than just telling you at work or after dinner.”

“There’s plenty of nights you could have told me you loved me, when we were making love.” He was overly proud of his joke, smirking widely, and you reached your hand up higher, knocking his sunglasses down into his face and laughing at the protesting noise he made. You stepped back out of his face, detangling yourself from beside him, and he was still busily cracking up over it, his hand crossing over his chest as he laughed loudly, only spurred by your reaction.

You tucked the blanket under your arm, grabbing the basket, and walking away from the man who was losing it laughing by his car still, and walking toward the building. The trunk slammed shut, the car chirping as it locked, and you heard Thomas’ feet scraping against the tarmac as he jogged to catch up with you. His hand closed over yours, cooing in your ear as he took the basket from you.

“Oh, c’mon, baby. That was a good joke, admit it.” You scoffed, his laughter continuing. “Wait, wait, wait. Just hold on, before we go in.” He brought you to a stop, adjusting his glasses on his face, eyes blacked for yours, but you could imagine the look on them as his cheeky expression smoothed out into something more genuine. “I love you.”

“Yeah, well, I love you too. For some stupid reason, because you make dumb jokes about sex right before I meet your mother.” Your smile was finally cracking through, unable to be held back any longer, and he beamed as he saw it, shifting the basket to the other hand and weaving his finger switch your own.

As you walked into the main building, his thumb played with yours, and he greeted the older woman behind the desk like she was an old friend, her eyes lighting up a little as she saw him. He made introductions while he scribbled down his information in the visitor sign-in book before himself, chatting about the woman’s kids with her, his hand never letting go of your own, until you needed to fill in the paper yourself.

As you did, he handed over the picnic basket to the woman, who lifted the lid, sifting through the contents all while keeping the conversation going, the security checks that left Thomas unfazed, and now you realised why he’d insisted on not bringing your own cutlery to go with it all, because it surely would have been taken off of you. You gave her your bag, too, only your phone and wallet inside, before Thomas was giving you the car keys to add to the collection, and you were gathering it all back up, and being pointed through to the main corridors.

He didn’t need a guide, clearly knowing where he was going, and told that his mother was waiting for you both in the common room, last seen winning her third game of chess in a row. You were nervous again, gripping onto Thomas’ hand a little tighter, and he squeezed back, pressing a kiss to your temple in a silent notion of security and faith, encouragement in your task, as he guided you through the halls.

You weren’t so worried that she’d hate you; if the way Thomas had been raised was anything to go on, once you’d moved past that difficult stage, he’d been nothing but loyal and friendly, and so you knew she’d raised him well, indicating she wasn’t someone to fear herself. What you were nervous about was a reputation that preceded you, you were nervous that you wouldn't live up to an image she already had of you, that Thomas had told her excessively good things and you were going to be underwhelming, or worse, that she just wouldn't think you were as good as other’s who’d come before.

You couldn't help it, you wanted to make a good first impression.

As soon as you rounded the corner, you could spot her. She looked just like her son. The same warm caramel eyes and sweet smile, moles dotted along pale skin and hair that was much like Thomas’, except longer, a little duller, and sitting in wavy curls to her shoulders, untamed from her morning’s activities.

“Okay, I lied. I’m freaking out a little bit.” You whispered, coming to a stop slightly in the entrance of the main room, and Thomas came to stand in front of you, his hands landing on your arms to rub lightly, and you let out a weak laugh at the gesture. He used a single finger to tip your face back up to look at him, his eyes wide and honest as you found them, and he gave you a soft smile.

“Stop freaking out. It’s not like you. You normally dive headfirst into situations.”

“You told me to stop doing that.” You mumbled, and he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head when you glanced down, staring at your feet and glaring at a scuff on your shoes you hadn't noticed until now.

“Only when your life is in danger. With this, you just need to get out of your head. C’mon, look at me?” You sighed through your nose, hesitating for a second, before looking up to the man before you, slightly taller and blocking out the main lighting of the room, so you didn’t have to squint at him. “You’re great, okay? You’re amazing, and you're smart and funny. She’s gonna’ love you, because I love you.”

“Okay. You’re right.” He waited, a cheeky look on his face, making the most of those three words now he knew he’d hear them back, and his face split in a toothy grin as he stared expectantly. “And I love you too.”

“I also love you too, so are you gonna’ greet your mom yet?”

You jumped, rather harshly at the sudden voice, Thomas’ face changing into one of more nostalgic joy as he let go and turned around to face his mother, and your face flushed with heat, unsure of when she’d made her way over, or even noticed the two of you. He wrapped her up, holding her tight as he greeted her, and she rubbed his back soothingly in return, her stature much like your own, her son towering over the both of you. When they pulled back, she reached up, patting his cheek with a large smile, before looking over him. The motherly glance told you all you needed to know, she was judging how well he was taking care of himself, and if he was staying healthy, seemingly happy with her judgement as her hand slipped to his shoulder, before turning away as she moved to greet you, instead.

Her sights moved over you, too, her smile never faltering, and you didn’t feel judged by her. Instead, you felt a sense of warmth and love as she treated you the same as she had treated Thomas, looking over you to make sure you were well, and taking in the details of the flowers on your dress.

“Mom, this is my girlfriend. (Y/N).” Thomas’ hand slipped down, finding yours once again and squeezing lightly, an unspoken piece of reassurance, and she glanced to her son, raising a brow at him.

“Well, I should hope so. It’d be awfully awkward if you’d brought anyone else.”

Thomas sighed, rolling his eyes, but he couldn't help the smile breaking on his face, even as he tried to bite it away on the inside of his cheek. “Alright, alright. I’m just trying to make introductions.” He mumbled, his mother swatting at his arm lightly, and he gave in, waving a vague hand between you and her. “(Y/N), this is my very sarcastic mother.”

“Hi, Mrs Stephens.” You greeted, heart thudding in your chest, and you held out your other hand, her palm sliding against yours quickly as she accepted the greeting, shaking firmly and letting it go as she smiled.

“You don’t have to call me that, I haven’t been ‘Mrs Stephens’ since Thomas’ dad was still in the picture, you can just call me Beth.”

Thomas cleared his throat, not wanting the mention of his father to bring anything down when you’d only nodded silently, like he could sense the apology on your tongue that was about to fall. “Alright, well, now that's out of the way, shall we find somewhere to sit? I don’t want all the icepacks to melt and let the food get warm.”

“Does he do this to you at home, too? He’s so picky about his food, like he’s that angry Gary man from the television. Like he’s a star chef.”

“Are you talking about Gordon Ramsey? Oh my God.” He scoffed, eyes narrowing on you when you laughed at him, and he nodded his head roughly to make his sunglasses fall down, until they were sitting on the bring of his nose instead of buried in soft strands of hair. “I’m nothing like Gordon Ramsey, okay? I didn’t even cook all of this food, we cooked together. I’m just hungry, and not a fan of warm pasta salad.”

“Bossy, bossy, bossy. You’re not the lieutenant here, son.”

“He thinks he is, though.” You leaned in to whisper the words to his mother as she fell into step beside you, letting you be tugged along a little by Thomas’ grip on your hand, and you both chuckled a little at the sound of protest he let out.

“Yeah, well, Thomas doesn’t like having that control-freak authority challenged. You’re good for him that way.” Your cheeks flushed a little again, and you were grateful to the sun shining down overhead from the second you’d stepped out onto the patio to disguise it as simply a blush from the heat. “I’ve been rooting for the two of you since the day he came to visit me and spent the whole time complaining about ‘that new girl, she’s so reckless and stupid and brave, it’s irritating that she’s always right’.

“Well, I’m not always right. I was wrong about your son, at first.”

“Well, he wasn’t the most welcoming. Little Newt from across the road spun quite the tale of your first meeting when he called me.” Your heart jumped in your chest a little at her reference of your partner, in her mind still picturing a scrappy little blond boy with skinned knees and a bright smile, no doubt.

“You and Newt are just alike.” You teased, Thomas chuckling slightly as he guided you both quietly towards the steps and down to the grass of the gardens.

“We are? How’s that?” Your hand came up to sit over your eyes as the sun shone brightly in the centre of the sky, and you shrugged, glancing around at the beautiful scenery as you walked, trying to find your words.

“Just that you and he both seemed to be rooting for me and Tommy long before we even realised what we were.” You turned to face Thomas at the questioning noise he made, squinting at him slightly through the sun, and shrugging. “It’s true, he saw ‘us’ in us long before we ever did, and he told me so.”

Thomas lifted down his sunglasses, placing them on your face instead, adjusting them with one finger and switching the basket from one hand to the other, his head ducked while you thanked him.

“One afternoon in the ambulance, months ago. It was that day I set him up with Derek. He told me he was glad I didn’t have a date with Derek, because he had someone else in mind for me.” Thomas’ lips pressed together, smiling after a second, and he let go of your hand to step down over one of the ridges in the grass. Placing the basket down, he helped his mother over the dip, and then you, pausing to pick the food back up.

“You’ve never told me that.”

“I figured Newt did.”

“That boy has always been a little trickster, he used to help Thomas sneak out when they were teens.” Thomas’ mother tutted, and you gasped, turning to her.

“I always thought Thomas would have been a goody-two-shoes when he was younger!”

“Mom, please don’t tell her anything embarrassing.” You shushed him, waving a hand in his direction and focusing on his mother, who was smirking wickedly at her son, but looking at you, clearly trying to choose which story she wanted to tell you first.

“There’s so many to tell. Especially the things the two of them got up to while sneaking out.” She tutted, frowning at her son as she relived them, and he stuck his tongue out childishly. “Once, he was delivered home to my doorstep, drunk as a skunk when he was seventeen because he’d been drinking at a party, and I thought he was upstairs in his room, music playing.”

“Oh, that sounds awful.” You cringed, turning to look at Thomas, who was pointedly staring ahead, mock-anger making a poor attempt at hiding the amusement on his face.

“Also, Thomas once got so nervous about impressing the girl he was taking to junior prom, he sweated through his shirt and had to change before her mom dropped her off.”

“Mom!” Thomas was blushing now, cheeks red and eyes wide, and the older woman burst out with laughter, Thomas’ cheeks burning crimson as you turned to him, and she continued wandering ahead when you and Thomas slowed to a slight halt. “I didn’t sweat right through my shirt, I was just nervous about smelling bad, so I changed.”

He was pouting, and you leaned up, pecking his lips quickly, and his resolve was slowly dying. “I think it’s cute. Though, I am moderately offended that I’ve never made you nervous enough to change a sweaty shirt.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a grown-up now.” His chest puffed out slightly, and he turned to find his mother, who was looking down at the grass, the wind blowing the flowers that were growing in the grass, before his attention was back on you. The breeze allowed loose tendrils of hair to flitter down into your face, and he pushed them back into place to stay behind your ears, a softer expression taking over. “Besides, I’m a fireman. I’m always sweaty, you’d never have noticed.”

You rolled your eyes, his head dipping to let his lips brush against his forehead, before his mother was clearing her throat delicately. “I think this is a good spot. Not too hot, not too cold, not too windy. Not too far from the house that the orderlies get mad.” She scoffed the final part, flipping off the big house you’d all wandered away from, and you hadn't realised just how far you’d come from it, approaching the tree-line near the edges.

Thomas held the basket still had you tugged the blanket free from under the straps, and you wandered over to his mother. She took half of it, helping you to lay it down on the grass, smoothing it out carefully, and finding some rocks to pin it down with. You could only find two, and so Thomas used the basket for one corner, and his jacket bundled up with your cardigan for the other, before he was sitting down.

Crossing his legs and lifting up the lid, his mother sat opposite him, legs stretched out before herself as she started up at the tops of the trees, swaying in the light breeze with birds coming and going. Just as you were kneeling down, Thomas groaned, looking through the basket and beginning to unpack things, before he was looking back at you both.

“We forgot the cutlery, we were supposed to pick it up at the house because you can’t bring it in.” He sighed, shoulders slumping a little. “I’ll go grab some, I’ll be real quick.”

“I’ll go.” Thomas paused, staring up at you from where he’d been halfway to his feet, and you stood back up fully, brushing off your dress a little.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course. You stay, it’ll only take a few minutes.” He still looked a little doubtful, glancing back to the house that looked brother small from this distance, then back to you. Taking your bag from the pile of jackets, you placed it on your shoulder, patting it securely. “If I get lost, I’ll call you to come find me.”

“No smoke and fire, it’ll be a welcome relief to find you when our lives aren’t on the line.” It was a crude joke, and you scoffed, his mother chastising him while ruffling his hair, and he laughed his complaints out to the both of you while swatting her away. You took a few steps away from the pair, beginning your walk back up to the house, leaving the pair to talk as Thomas continued to unpack the basket’s contents.

Turning to look at them when you were only a few feet away, Thomas’ mother was pinching at his cheek, and he was blushing slightly, spreading out three plates on the blanket and avoiding her gaze. “You really like her, Thomas. She makes you happy.”

You didn’t want to eavesdrop, you didn’t intend to, and you doubted either of them knew you could still hear them, and so you tried not to look at them as you continued walking, but Thomas’ gentle chuckle still reached you. “Yeah, mom, she does. I think she might, y’know, be the one.”

#thomas #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #thomas the maze runner #ff!tommy #firefighter!tommy #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #smoke and fire #SAF

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