#-at any given time you too would want to keep on your magic glasses that prevent this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mae-gi-writes · 2 months ago

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let it be me | kuroo tetsurou (2)

In which you, as a new divorcée, can't help but crush on your 4-year-old's new PE Coach.

genre: singleparent!reader x coach! Kuroo, fluff, acquaintances-to-lovers

taglist: @patpatspatz @matchagirliris @multi-fandom-fanfic @alittlebirdahgaselx @kuroos--little--kitten @menacejelly12 @aeshiue @dreamlessnight @altheades @loonalockley @not-your-average-fangirl @bertqut1 @sunlixfl-blog @nabboo007

a/n: enjoy! <3 thanks for all the love given to the first part of this story! here's the second part. Third part is coming soon ~

---- previous | part two | next part >>>

"He can't be serious."

You sigh and watch the wine in your glass slosh around, creating beautiful patterns along the rim of your glass, "unfortunately, I think he is."

Your cousin has on an expression you can't quite place, in-between disgust and pure confusion. He's at the microwave, busy heating up some popcorn. Having adamantly asked you to sit on his couch while taking care of the snacks, you thus decided to watch Sakura play with her legos along the carpet, keeping a watchful eye in case one might end up in her mouth.

"He's only marrying her for the money," is what he concludes after a small pause.

You snort into your glass, take a sip of it and allow the bitterness to coat your tongue, "I wish that were true."

"How would you know that?"

" 'Tsumu, is it written stupid on my forehead?" your own wrinkles in distaste, "I see the way he looks at her. He's--" you choke on your words then, the knot in your throat growing tenfold, "--he's in love with her."

"Who is in love, mum?"

"No one at all," you're quick to answer upon noticing Sakura has been listening in. She normally doesn't, a kid that enjoys staring off into space and conjuring make-believe stories, where there's magic and only happy endings. You try and force a smile onto your face, "how's the house construction for Princess Peach going?"

Your daughter lets out a laugh as she presents to you a square that looks nothing like a house. Still, you coo at it, "so pretty! I bet princess peach would love it."

Your conversation with Atsumu has to wait until Sakura is tucked away in her uncle's bedroom and has listened to three stories about princesses, before you manage to join him back onto the couch where he's busy watching a rerun of volleyball matches.

You don't get to see him much now, courtesy of the fact that he's a national athlete and has been booked at the big games representing Japan. You couldn't be prouder, and yet his permanent absence does still leave a big hole in your heart whenever he flies over a thousand miles. Atsumu had been your rock since you guys were kids, defending you on the school playground and dragging you around to parties and birthdays without your consent. He'd taken care of you as a big brother would and he still is. You don't know how to repay this kind of kindness.

You're just thankful that he has one week off so that you can rant and ramble about the unfairness of the world. At least with Atsumu here, it appeases the pain, if just a little.

"Have you signed the papers yet?" he asks, handing you the bowl of popcorn.

You grab a handful, popping onto of them into your mouth as you answer, "not yet."

"You should ask him for alimony, at least."

"I'm not sure I'd win that, 'Tsumu."

"Still," his nose wrinkles in distaste, "this feels unfair. And why are you the one taking care of Sakura on your own? And I don't mean the parenting part. What about the finances? Why can't he contribute?"

"Because he's a dick and he thinks he can get away with it," you're glad that the tv is providing a welcome distraction, for you can't bear to look into Atsumu's eyes, "I'm just going to sign it and be done with it. I don't want Sakura to suffer any longer. It's not fair on her, she barely sees him."

"Well maybe it's time you find someone else too, y/n."

Your thoughts suddenly flash to Kuroo's beautiful smile and you have to physically force yourself to keep from grinning. You can feel the heat from the back of your neck and come up with the excuse that it's still too early and that Sakura wouldn't like her world shattering just for your happiness.

But it seems that Atsumu knows you better than that, for he asks, "are you blushing?"

"Wha--" Panic skitters through you, "no. No, why would I blush?"

His eyebrows raise, "you’ve met someone then?"

"N--No. Not at all. It's--" you realize you're blundering when his smile widens slightly, "it's not like that."

"So who's the lucky guy?"

"Atsumu."

"Y/N," his eyes glisten with playfulness and he nudges your shoulder, "c'mon. Tell me!"

You let out another breath and mumble, "He’'s not someone I met. He's...Just someone I know."

"And how do you know him?"

"He's Sakura's PE coach."

Atsumu lets out a whistle, "well that--" he shakes his head, "--that's not what I imagined at all."

"Shut up."

"So you like him?"

"It's not--It's really not like that. I--" you try and rack your brain for anything to say because this is really embarrassing. Who has a crush at the age of twenty-nine? Practically all of your friends are already married and have kids, talk about husband problems and how they wish for their youth back. And you? Here you are, thinking you might have a crush. You're no better than a middle school girl.

Which is why you say, "I don't even know him."

"You just think he's cute?"

"Precisely. But there are a lot of cute guys. It doesn't mean anything."

“Right,” Atsumu lets out a breath before he leans back into the couch, “but you know what I think?”

You hum in response.

“I think you should get laid—“

You almost spit out your wine in shock, gape at him in horror, “Atsumu!”

Again, your brain goes into overdrive at the thought of Kuroo and his sweaty chest, the breadth of his shoulders, the way he just towers over your small frame…

NO! You slam onto your mental brakes and shake your head, “you’re disgusting.” You spit out.

“I’m telling the truth princess. I really believe in the power of s—“

“Don’t—“ you cut him off with a raised palm, “don’t even say it.”

“So tell me,” Atsumu proceeds to wriggle his brows suggestively which makes it even harder to stop the blush igniting along your face, “this guy, how handsome is he? Must be pretty good-looking for you to be blushing like that.”

“Shut up ‘Tsumu, it’s not like that at all. Just stop. He's like--half of my age."

“Alright alright,” he laughs his deep-bellied laughter and wraps an arm around you in a gentle, comforting hug, “but if ever you do get lais with him, you gotta tell me.”

“Mum, what does ‘getting laid’ mean?”

“Oh!” Your head snaps to the doorway only to see your daughter all sleepy-eyed and clutching a spare pillow.

“Sakura!” You scramble to over, casting your cousin a scowl as you do, “c’mon, sweetie. Let’s get you back to bed.”

You hear Atsumu’s laughter follow you all the way to the bedroom.

————

It’s weird when Sakura isn’t around.

It’s almost like you’ve lost your purpose. But then again, you should be taking advantage of this right? That’s what everyone keeps telling you.

But alas, something in you cannot just let yourself rest for fear that your thoughts may go into a black hole of what ifs and images of Sakura with your ex-husband’s wife —well, almost ex-husband— and thus decide to take on a last-minute order.

It’s a simple enough request— a birthday cake. While you usually plan events from A to Z, this order merely requested a cake of any kind. So that’s how you spend your Saturday morning — creating a dough and sugar decorations that would fit into the theme of “Halloween”, as per what your client has asked.

You drive up to the pin location around four in the afternoon, strolling through the streets until the google maps signals you that you’ve arrived to your destination. Turning off the ignition at the said house — a beautiful Victorian home adorned with columns twice your height and size — you open your door only to come face to face with a familiar pair of golden eyes.

“Coach?”

“Kosuke-san?”

You both stare. And stare.

It’s shock that comes first. Before realization slaps you in the face, “oh!” You quickly bow in hopes that you haven’t been staring too long, “good afternoon, Coach. What—What brings you here?”

"Kosuke-san," he bows and looks just as surprised as you are, before he notices the way you're struggling to juggle to cake in your arms, "here, let me help you."

Without hesitation, he opens the door a bit wider and closes the gap between you, lifting the box from your arms, "jeez how heavy is this thing?"

You let out a small laugh, "it's all the icing sugar."

"Come in," he gestures with his chin for you to follow and as you step into the threshold he continues, "so when you said you were an event planner--I didn't expect you to be a cake designer too."

"It's an extra service I provide," you shrug, "I'm a patissier by career. Event planning is just something that keeps the cash flowing."

Kuroo pauses in mid-step then, "you're a patissier?"

"Yeah. Well, I was," you chuckle, "but anyway, it's been a while since I've baked now. So I hope it's just as good as you expect it to be."

Kuroo opens his mouth only to be cut off by a horde of boys stumbling into what appears to be the kitchen area. Now that you have a better look, it's all white marble and golden taps and golden handles on every piece of furniture to match. In any case, this house screams of money and for a minute, you feel a bit small and insignificant in your stained-flour blouse, the splotches of paint across your faded out jeans, courtesy of Sakura's art skills.

"You must be y/n!" one of the boys detaches himself. His orange hair glistens in the sun streaming through the window and he's a bit shorter than Kuroo. He beams at you and you can't help but be reminded of a puppy, "thanks for taking my order on such a short notice!"

"No worries at all. You must be...Hinata?"

"Yes!" he shakes your hand, "so I see you've met Kuroo! He's one of my best mates! We used to play against each other back in high school."

"Really now?" you quirk a brow in Kuroo's direction, watching the muscles of his arms ripple as he places the cake in an orderly manner inside the fridge. His voice is muffled when he replies, "yeah, he's the midget that made us jump for our lives. I hated him."

"You're just sour because you lost that one time," Hinata pouts, "but anyway, this is the rest of the ex-team!"

And so that's how you get a round of names that you will probably forget in five minutes and Kuroo, having seen the confusion in your eyes, can't help but laugh to himself because the sight is somewhat adorable. And he knows he shouldn't find it, he knows you're off limits because first, you're a mom from the school and two, you're married and have a kid. It's definitely not at all appropriate for his eyes to be roaming over your curves or to linger over the light glittering in your eyes.

Get a hold of yourself, he mentally whacks the back of his head.

“Where’s the little munchkin?” Kuroo asks you once you’re all settled after having been wheedled by Hinata to stay (“please please please you did such a great job on the cake” is what he’d begged). You’re now perched onto a plush lounge chair, a mixture of juice and vodka in your hand and watching the nth match of pingpong between someone whose name you forget and the other whose name sounds like Daichi. Though yoj might be wrong.

You’re glad for Kuroo’s presence, for even if he is a stranger, he still feels familiar to you right now in this setting.

“Sakura’s with her father today,” you explain with a slight smile in hopes it doesn’t give any of that bitterness away.

Kuroo opens his mouth like he wants so say something — anything— but you beat him to it, “we’re not together. Not anymore.”

His eyes widen with realization and you see it, the way he’s putting all the puzzle pieces together, “I’m sorry to hear,” is what he finally musters.

“Nothing be to be sorry about.”

“So… the name Kosuke…”

“Is my maiden name,” you reply, “I’ve never changed names. Looking back, I think I’ve done the right thing.”

Kuroo isn’t sure whether he should be mad for you or hurt in your place. After all, who in their right mind would leave their wife and their toddler daughter?

He deals with little kids every day, so he knows exactly what they’re like on a daily basis, and it’s not easy.

“I’m sorry,” it seems that’s the only thing he knows how to say.

“Really,” you laugh at him, “how can you be sorry when it’s not even your fault?”

Kuroo shrugs and grins bashfully because yes, it’s true and he still doesn’t know what to say. So he decides to ask, “And Sakura… how is she?”

“She doesn’t realize it. She’s too young,” your smile fades slightly, “in a way, I hope that’s a good sign.”

His heart clenches at the thought of you raising this kid alone. He can’t even imagine it. It makes sympathy swim inside his chest like an ache he can’t quite ignore. The look on your face suggests that you’ve been let down and he has the sudden impulse to tell you that everything will be alright, will be okay.

But he can’t do that. You’ll think of him as a creep. So he bites his tongue and look away instead, at the war of pingpong ongoing between his two friends. In a way, he’s glad for the distraction as he sips on his beer.

“And you?” Your voice piping up surprises him. His eyes flit back to your face. You continue, “married? Engaged?”

Kuroo’s throat bobs as he chuckles, “no. None of that.”

“How come?” You take a sip of your cocktail, “you don’t seem like the type to wound up alone with a hundred cats.”

“No no,” he can’t help but laugh because one, you’re hella attractive to him; tiny and frail and looking like he can fit you in a box no problem and two; you’re actually entertaining to be around. Something that he’s found lacking in his previous dates, “I just didn’t find anyone special yet.”

“Well there's no rush,” you lift your cocktail as you speak, “and anyway, you’re still young. You should enjoy it while you can.”

“Young?” Kuroo’s face breaks into a grin as his golden orbs glimmer down at you, amused, “how old do you think I am?”

"Uhm--I don't know. Early twenties?"

"I'm twenty-five," he gives you a look, "how old are you?"

"Twenty-eight. Going on twenty-nine."

"You look like you've just gotten out of college though," Kuroo's smirk is visible even behind his beer as he chugs down most of his drink, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you and Sakura were sisters."

"Not even," you retort, "And excuse me, but you look younger than twenty-five."

"I make up for it in height," he peers down at you, "but I suppose you wouldn't understand that considering--"

Your arm whacks at his shoulder before you know it. A playful gesture surely, but one that you don't really use on your daughter's teachers. Let alone ones that have bulging muscles and a figure to die for. You stare at your hand for a long minute, your brain going blank, before your eyes whip up to his and horror seeps into your gaze.

"Oh my god!" you screech and recoil like he's the one that had slapped you, "I'm so sorry, I--It's just--automatic you know, my cousin--he's got the same humor and--well I--I'm really sorry--"

The guffaw that leaves Kuroo's mouth is so loud that it causes heads to turn, even the ones invested in the ping pong game. He bends over while holding his stomach and the initial panic that you have wears off upon seeing him look so joyously happy. You can't help but chuckle along.

"What?" you say when he's regained most of his breath, "what's so funny?"

"You are," he grins, before it turns mischievous, "senpai."

"Hey--now that's going a bit too far!"

You're not quite sure what time you get home that night. But you do know that you've gone to sleep with a smile on your face.

————

"Kuroo sensei! He stole my ball!"

A typical Monday morning where Kuroo is busy surveilling the fifth graders as they decided to play basketball during their free time. He's not one to deny such requests, actually enjoys watching them play and seeing them grow day by day, developing their techniques. But to say that he's a bit in the clouds would be an understatement.

"Kuroo sensei!"

He finally snaps back to reality. Blinks down at the tiny boy with the biggest scowl he's ever seen yet, "yes I'm sorry. What's wrong?"

"He stole my ball!" the young boy points at one of the chubby classmates who seems quite content in playing by himself, "and now he's saying that it was his!"

Kuroo can't help but raise a brow. He's taught that class before, knows exactly that the chubby little kid doesn't have that many friends, including the boy standing before him.

"I don't think he stole your ball."

It's a bold statement, but from the way the tiny student squirms and averts his gaze, Kuroo believes he is right, "but--but he did! He really did steal my ball!"

"I have an idea," Kuroo bends down to his height, not able to restrain the grin along his face at the pout forming on the student's lips, "why don't you go and play with him? He seems a bit lonely."

"Yeah that's because he never talks to anyone in class."

"Then why don't you be the first? hm?" he nudges the boy's shoulder, "show your class a good example. Come on."

With a bit more reassurance, the said student goes over and Kuroo watches fondly as the two exchange awkward greetings before the chubby student nods his head, glancing at his PE coach like he'd just dropped a bomb.

Five minutes later, they're playing together like best friends.

And Kuroo goes back to daydreaming.

He's not usually like this. So out of it, so inside his own head that he can't see the outside world. But ever since that party he's been wondering when's the next time he'd get to see you, to talk to you. Not just as Sakura's mum but as someone, maybe a friend. He's addicted to the way your eyes curve up before your lips are even drawn into a smile, like you're sharing a special secret with him before the world gets a flash of blinding white teeth. He enjoys watching you move about because you're just so tiny, holding cups with two hands and always having to tiptoe about to find stuff. But most of all, that conversation with you had him dreaming of more. He wants to know you, that initial curiosity turning to what he'd define as stupid infatuation.

Yes, Kuroo Tetsurou has a crush, and he's not quite sure how to feel about it.

"--Earth to Kuroo?"

He blinks. In front of him stands his colleague and friend Bokuto. Having faced each other off countlessly during their high school days, it was a miracle and lovely surprise to see him at the new year induction. Since then, they’d been a constant pair inside the school walls and creating assignments, organizing and coordinating events had never been so fun.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and rubs a hand over his face.

“You look like death, mate,” Bokuto leans on the fencing that separates the courts from the building, “why the long face?”

“Haven’t slept well,” Kuroo says, but he knows he’s not convincing when Bokuto’s eyebrows raise in question.

“You? Firm believer of 10hrs of sleep every day?” His friend shakes his head, “no way. Tell me what happened. What’s got you looking so dazed?”

“It’s noth—“ he halts. Maybe he can find some advice? Bokuto’s known for being a badass romantic after all. Maybe he can have something wise to say.

Like tell Kuroo you’re way out of his league and— what the hell is he even thinking, dating someone’s mom? Someone older than him, at that?

The words burst out of his mouth without warning:

“I think I like someone.”

Bokuto merely blinks. His face lights up, “well that explains it. Who?”

Kuroo’s arm swings to the back to scratch his neck, “it’s… one of the student’s mom’s.”

The last few words are said in a mumble, causing Bokuto to lean into his friend with a wide-eyed gaze, surprise flitting across his face when he realizes what Kuroo has just said.

“No,” the grey-haired man’s mouth turns into an “o” as he stares his friend down, “no way. Who?”

“I don’t think you know her. Sakura Kosuke?” Kuroo prompts.

“Sakura Kosuke…” Bokuto shakes his head in thought, “haven’t heard of that one. But—-Kuroo! I thought older women weren’t your style!”

“She’s not that old,” Kuroo’s face flames, “only by three years.”

"Who would've thought," Bokuto breathes out with a chuckle when a thought suddenly occurs to him, "wait-- it's not the chick who came by with the cake last weekend?"

Kuroo nods and awkwardly clears his throat, "yeah, the very same."

"Ha! If only I knew! I would've done my best to set you up!"

"It's not funny!"

But now that Bokuto has some leverage of information, he's definitely not going to let it go and Kuroo kind of regrets spilling the beans to him, of all people. That, and the probably fact that he’ll be spreading this news like wildfire across their friend group.

Thankfully, Kuroo’s schedule makes it that it’s hard to think about anything but work since midterm season is approaching for his other primary school colleagues. There’s after-school shows and events for every single activity and since he’s being asked to help for every single thing (because he’s the preschool teacher and, yeah! How come you don’t have any events planned for your preschoolers?!). Which means that he doesn’t have actual time to think about you, not even when he’s finally home and mustering up enough strength to brush his teeth, take a shower and dump himself in bed.

He does, however, collide head-first into you one week day as you’re hurrying out of the principal’s office, looking flustered and red-faced.

“Kosuke-san,” he takes a longing glance your rosy cheeks and felt his hand tingle with want. Just to see if it’s as soft as he imagines it to be? “You okay?”

“Kuroo sensei,” you run a hand through your locks and causing your hair to get even more disheveled, “hi, sorry— how are you? It’s been a while.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You’re looking a bit more greenish now that he sees you in the light.

“Yes I—“ your hands flutter up before you in an attempt to find an explanation, “—just came back from a meeting with Sakura’s teacher.”

“Oh?” Kuroo frowns, “what—nothing bad, I hope?”

“It’s just—well,” you try to chuckle but it comes out like a whimper, “apparently she got into a fight with one of the other girls in her class. Got a few injuries herself so…”

Your eyes are wet and it seems you’re half a second away from a breakdown. So it’s only natural for Kuroo to take a few steps closer to you before he whispers a soft, “hey hey, you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you take a shaky breath, “it’s just been a long, hard morning.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo bites onto his lower lip, not sure what to do to make things better as he watches your chest move up and down in staggered breaths.

That’s when an idea hits him. He makes a grab for the back of your elbow and the smallness, the thinness of your limb takes him be surprise as he steers you out of the corridor.

And when your wide eyes flutter up to his, he quickly says something along the lines of, “I know a place. It’ll make you feel better.”

That’s how he finds himself dragging you to the nearby coffee place he always frequents— called Espresso Block— a small vintage bakery run by none other than his good friend Osamu Miya, as part of his expansion branch from his onigiri restaurants.

"Y/N!" Osamu greets as soon as he spots your face trailing behind Kuroo's tall figure. He pushes the raven-haired man aside with impatience before sauntering over and wrapping you up in a bear hug.

"Osamu," you breathe in the scent of baked croissants lingering on his uniform, "you're choking me."

"Oh--sorry," he drops you and grins sheepishly, that is before he registers that you're together with one of his friends, causing his eyes to narrow, "how do you two know each other?"

"Kosuke-san is Sakura's mother and she was having a bad day," Kuroo explains before he turns to you, "how do you know him?"

Did you imagine the five-second frostiness that came from his tone? Maybe not, as you reply, "he's my cousin. We grew up together. I taught him how to play volleyball back in primary school."

Kuroo's relief is instant. Thank god, it's not a close friend, nor is it a romantic partner candidate. His mood brightens instantly and without further ado he proceeds to lead you towards a table in the back.

He doesn’t fail to ignore the way Osamu’s eyes are following him all the way back to his table as he carries the two drinks — strawberry latte for him and a black coffee for you — and Kuroo can just hope that his dear friend can keep his distance until you've gone.

Becayse he's quite certain he will be subject to interrogation. Especially if you're that close to Osamu.

Placing the tray on the table, he takes out the mug and pushes it into your hands before finding his seat opposite you. You grab the cup between your two palms and take a deep breath as Kuroo sips on his latte.

The sweetness of the strawberry never disappoints. It’s refreshing and brings a smile to his lips. Osamu sure knows his desserts.

“I'm really sorry about what happened earlier," you seem to have composed yourself from earlier. You take a small sip of your coffee and Kuroo watches in amusement as you shudder.

"Do you want some milk with that?" he can't help but ask.

You nod and look shameful, and Kuroo's heart squeezes with sympathy. Your eyes are tinged with aprons of blue and there are tired lines lining your eyes and the corners of your mouth. It's only when he comes back -- from having gotten some steamed milk from Osamu and a suggestive wink to match -- you dip your head into a nod and mumble out a soft 'thanks', eyes glued to the way the dark brown turned into a creamy latte.

"You could've asked me for a latte," Kuroo smiled to show that he didn't mind at all. But you winced.

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't say sorry," he softened, "just--next time, you can tell me what you want, Kosuke-san. I'm not here to bite you...unless you want me to."

Your eyes flit up to his in surprise and Kuroo pinks at his words. They'd just slipped out on their own. It's not like he'd wanted to sound flirty when you're looking all shaky and worse for wear. He quickly clear his throat and tries to change the subject, "how are Sakura's injuries?"

"She's fine, got herself a bruised lip."

His eyebrows raise in surprise, "woah, that's still something."

"Yeah," you mutter and take another sip. And then another, "I hope this doesn't become a habit."

"I've taught Sakura since the start of this semester," Kuroo leans forward, elbows propped onto the table, "and I can tell you--she's anything but violent."

"I really hope you're right about this. I can't have her running around beating up everyone."

Kuroo stifled a small laugh, "to be honest, I think it's good she knows how to defend herself."

You shoot him a look and he can't help but laugh. And it's so contagious, the way it booms out of him like a melody, that you cannot restrain yourself from joining in.

"You're right," you say in-between chuckles.

"Maybe she got her mom's feisty spirit," Kuroo adds.

"No way. I was as silent as a mouse," you retort, "if she got anything like that, it's probably from her father's--"

You halt in mid-conversation, wanting to bite down your tongue for even mentioning him and quickly flash Kuroo a bashful smile in hopes he'll just brush it off, "sorry, let's not talk about him--"

"Kosuke-san, you really have to stop saying sorry all the time," Kuroo says with a grin, "it's not healthy."

"I know, I'm--" you catch yourself and he bursts out laughing once more at your face, "don't say it! No matter what!" he chides.

"Stop--" but you're grinning from ear to ear, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, "--Kuroo sensei, I hope you're not as playful with your students or they'd never learn anything from you."

"Course not," he winks, "I keep that solely for the pretty ladies."

His suggestive tone makes you blush despite it all and you look down at your coffee with the blush blazing so hard across your cheeks you swear everyone can see its colour from afar.

"I don't know how it is at home though," Kuroo's voice brings you out of your small bubble of warmth, "it must be tough handling Sakura all alone. Do you ever take a break?"

"Well, she goes to see her dad ever two weeks. But other than that, she's always with me unless my parents decide to come over. Which isn't as often as I would like."

"Why's that?"

"They live in the countryside and have a farm. It's hard for them to take days off, and I don't blame them not wanting to be around," your voice lowers to a mutter at the last few words, "especially after what happened with the marriage and all..."

"Marriages fail every time," Kuroo says gently then, "that too, isn't your fault."

"I wish my parents believed that," you let out a small laugh, "but they're right. We were too young to get married."

"But you have Sakura right? Isn't she worth it?"

His eyes, golden flecked and filled with so much hope and softness, meet yours from across the table. You suddenly feel a bit hot in your seat, wanting to squirm as you quickly look away from Kuroo's gaze because dear god, it's almost like he's ripping away, ripping apart every single layer of self-protection and preservation and reading you out like an open book.

"You're right," you clear your throat upon realizing he'd still been waiting for your response, "she is worth every single second. I wouldn't change anything about what happened. I just--I wish my parents could see it that way too."

"I think you spend a little too much time stressing about things you can't control," Kuroo takes another sip of his latte, "how about you learn to let go a bit? Maybe take the day off? Go hiking?"

"With Sakura?" you shake your head, "impossible, I--"

"Surely you have someone that can take care of her while you're gone," he tilts his head, jaw resting into one of his hands and making him appear all the more handsome.

Your thoughts flash to Atsumu. He's right, you could technically take a day off by dropping Sakura with the blonde. But she's not his responsibility and Atsumu has other priorities in his life rather than hang out with his niece. But Kuroo's persistence is strong and he makes you -- practically orders you -- to text him when he connects the dots that you two are also family.

"That guy can learn a thing or two about being responsible anyway," grins Kuroo, "so I'm sure he won't mind."

————

How did you end up here?

That's the question you keep asking yourself -- even when you're busy picking out your clothes only to realize that you barely have anything that's worth 'party material', even when you're attempting to do your makeup even though it's been almost three (or four?) years since you've tried to look your best because Sakura's wellbeing always came first.

Even when you're strapping up your black ankle boots, the question is getting drilled into your brain like a broken mixtape as you wonder whether this is a good idea after all.

"Go," Atsumu is firm when you call him for the nth time. It's five minutes until Kuroo's supposed to pick you up and feeling the pressure on your shoulders, you quickly decide to call your cousin in an emergency, "you have to do it, y/n. Stop making this all about Sakura. You need to be happy too."

"I am happy," was what you'd mumbled out in the phone receiver. You don't realize how tightly you're gripping the phone, so tight that your knuckles have turned white.

"I know you are, but you'll be happier if you live for yourself. At least for one night," Atsumu responds, "and Sakura's safe with me. And if ever there's an issue I'll call Osamu first to--"

"What?! No! No you call me first, okay?"

"Y/n please just relax. It's supposed to be a fun night."

You slump against the wall in defeat, "I don't even know why I'm doing this," you mumble mostly to yourself, though you're certain he can hear it too, "there's no point trying to prove that I'm content with my life. There are things that are going to leave me unsatisfied. I'm--I was fine with that, really."

"Are you though?" your cousin's voice is accusatory this time, "you're ready to live just for Sakura? Making her happy will make you happy too? Is this how it's supposed to work?"

"Technically yes, I'm her mother--"

"--And you've been left behind!"

The words are like a slap. You bite down onto your lower lip.

It draws blood.

You hiss, sucking on the skin as the metallic taste hits your tongue.

In truth, Atsumu has a point. You can't just live to make Sakura happy because that will ultimately destroy you. Not because she's not the only thing you need in your life. But because despite having your little girl being the center of your world, despite being able to sustain her with your career, you still feel like it's just yesterday when Aoi had upped and left you. His excuses, as pathetic as they had been, were arrows shooting straight into your heart. He left you crying into your pillow that night, hovering over your figure until you'd told him to 'get lost or I'll call the cops on you' before curling up on the small couch that you'd gotten rid of once he'd moved out for good.

So much pain. So much pain and haunted nights and obstacles that had come your way. That, along with caring for Sakura, had been a big hurdle. You remembered the long mornings, how hard it had been to drag yourself out of bed for the first few days. Atsumu had volunteered to stay with you then, giving you all the support you needed until you'd had enough strength to get back on your feet.

So he knew exactly what you'd gone through. Had seen it all first-hand. He wasn't kidding when he said you really needed to get laid. Somehow, he seems to have a valid point.

But it's been so long since you've left the dating scene that the thought of it makes you want to vomit.

"I'm sorry y/n, that wasn't cool." Atsumu's voice flows through the receiver like a lullaby and you take a deep, staggering breath, "I just--I know how hard it's been pulling your weight and caring for Sakura. It practically consumed your entire life. It's about time you get that motherfucker back for screwing things up--"

"Language," you tsk at him.

"You know what I mean," he replies impatiently, "So go out there, have fun. Get smashed. And at least do something to make you happy for a change. Alright?"

"Yeah okay," you mumble.

"And plus, you're with a bunch of guys that I know. They're cool. They'll keep an eye on you."

"Thanks mom."

"Anytime hun."

You can't help but giggle before you hear a car pulling up outside, "alright. I think my ride's here."

"Yeah, try to get laid okay--"

"Atsumu!" your cheeks flame, "I hope you're not saying all this in front of Sakura!"

A burst of laughter echoes from the receiver, "don't worry, miss Sakura is asleep. Have fun y/n! Take pictures!"

The drive there is less awkward than you'd imagined it to be, despite the fact that Kuroo's get-up does make your mouth salivate. And not just you. You realize a bunch of girls have him on their radar, from the stolen glances driven his way as you follow his broad back out of the parking and into the small terrace-looking entrance flanked by colored glowing palm trees.

"I haven't been in a club for like four years," you confess to him as you trudge into the queue. The air smells like cigarette and smoke. And something else. Something dangerous. It makes you giddy, you realize.

"Four years?" his eyes grow round as he looks down at you, "you have drunk before right? To the brink of passing out?"

"Like...maybe four years ago?"

His mouth opens, then closes. He shakes his head, a smile curving at the edges of his lips, "remind me not to drown you with tequila."

"I'll try my best."

You meet the rest of the gang upon stumbling into the club. It's dark and pulsating with music, with two dance floors separated by the DJ stationed on a platform right in the middle. Lights are bouncing off the space like crazy and all around you are moving bodies that writh and mold together until you're not sure where one ends and the other begins.

“Y/N! You’re here!” A drunk Hinata hooks an arm around your shoulder before steering you towards the bar, “you’re just in time! We were going for a round of lambos.”

“Lambos?” You balk and meet Kuroo’s eye, “you mean— Lamborgini’s?”

“Hell yeah!” Another one of the guys chimes in. It’s almost comical, the way they’re all stumbling against each other as you move like a congregation until you’re straight up in front of the barman.

“Ten Lambo’s please!” Hinata slams his card ontot he counter.

It brings back a wave of nostalgia, seeing the line of glasses and the way the bartender drops the alcohol in like he can do it with his eyes closed. You’re jostled and pressed against warm chests and shoulders, surrounded from all sides and yet, you feel safe with them all. That is, until you feel a soft brush against your elbow.

You turn to see Kuroo’s warm golden orbs.

“All okay?” He mouths to you.

You nod and give him a smile in return, and the grin that he cracks makes a troop of butterflies swoop into your stomach.

You look away just as Hinata thrusts a glass into your hands, “come y/n! This one’s on me!”

One shot becomes two. And two become three. Soon enough you find yourself on the dance floor and moving to the beat with one of the girls from the group— Yachi?— while the guys are trying to pay each other back their shots. The music vibrates through the floor up your body and flood your veins so that you get lost in it, ecstasy and the thrill of just being alive finally gushing through your brain, fogged up and amplified by the alcohol in your bloodstream.

It’s amazing. You feel free. Like nothing can stop you.

It’s honestly the best you’ve felt in a while.

After a while, you and Yachi decide to take a well-deserved break, stumbling over to the clustered seating space filled with red cushions as the boys scatter to find more alcohol. At this point you’re surprised that they’re still moving around and conscious, considering the amount they’ve drunk.

One of the boys— the one with the kind smile called Daichi— offers to get you guys some water as you take a seat, allowing your tired legs to take a break.

“I’m going to fine Hinata!” Yachi says into your ear and you nod before ushering her out of your way. There’s something between those two, a kind of tension that will develop into something more if they just allow it.

But you’re not one to meddle, not when your own love life’s a mess.

That’s when you notice.

It’s the lingering stare out of the corner of your peripheral that makes you turn your head.

Then you see him.

A tall, lanky man. He’s seated right opposite you, a drink in his hand and taking a swig. But there’s no mistake, for when his eyes meet yours across the room you can only jolt in shock.

You look away with embarrassment and disgust. Heat spreads to the back of your neck and goosebumps run up your arms. Suddenly, it’s a little too cold in this hot, sweaty club.

Why is he looking at you like that?

There’s no mistaking the intention. You risk one more glance and confirm that indeed, there’s a darkness in his eyes; the kind of a predator.

The kind that wants to strip you bare.

It’s unsetttling, unnerving.

Disgusting.

You don’t even hesitate. It’s like instinct for you jump off your seat with the only purpose to find Kuroo. But to your terror, the man starts to follow you. And soon enough it becomes a game of catch: of cat and mouse. You almost trip over your high heels as you push through the moving bodies as quickly as you can.

But the figure is there, hovering over you like a dark shadow that causes your heart to clench.

You bite back a whimper, pushing through a throng of girls as you frantically search for a sign of Kuroo’s familiar mop of hair. Or Hinata’s. Or just about anyone for that matter—

Bumping into a chest, you’re more than surprised as you let out a small yelp only to hear a familiar alto.

“Kosuke-san, everything alright?”

“K—Kuroo sensei,” your mumble is drowned in the beats of the music, eyes darting between his face and the dodgy man.

He’s now standing by the bar a few feet away from you. The same kind of withering stare that makes you wince.

Hurriedly, you turn to Kuroo and grip his shirt, wanting nothing more than to hide behind him, “I—uhm— there’s someone—“ the words jumble up as they pour out of your mouth and you find you can do nothing but grip his shirt for dear life, like Kuroo’s the only thing that can help you out of here.

Thankfully, he seems to understand your dilemma, for he puts a hand on your shoulder before steering you a little closer to him and away from the main path, a frown evident on his face, “what’s wrong Kosuke-san?”

But it’s only when he follows your fear-stricken eyes that Kuroo realizes there’s something — someone tormenting you. He recognizes the dark hunger, the prowling intent.

Instantly, his hand grips your waist. Tugs you closer.

You stumble into him, “Kuroo sensei—“

But Kuroo’s not having it. He stares the man down with a glower, longer body practically wrapped around yours in a protective embrace as he dares the man to do something, anything.

Try me, his eyes are saying, you’re not going to lay a single hand on her.

The stranger finally breaks eye contact after a few beats of silence and Kuroo keeps watch, golden eyes blazing until the man is nothing more but a memory of smoke as he disappears into the crowd.

Only then does he allow his hold to relax. Tilting down towards you. He murmurs out softly:

“He’s gone, Kosuke-san.”

You’re practically glued to him at this point, face buried in his chest and hands gripping so tightly onto his shirt that you might’ve grown claws. Kuroo nudges you gently once more, and that’s when you look up from the depths of his shirt.

The sight makes him almost coo because goddamnit even in the dim disco lights you look adorable. He has the sudden urge to pinch your cheeks and he’s glad his hands are somewhat occupied along your waist.

“You okay?” Is what he whispers.

You nod, looking a bit shaky and green int the face, “yeah—I’m—I’m fine. Thank you. He was—it scared me.”

“I know,” Kuroo draws away ever so slightly so he can have a better look at your face, “I’ll bring you home, alright?”

“No no it’s okay,” you shake your head and attempt a smile, but even Kuroo can see past those shaky lips, “you stay and have fun. I’ll call an Uber and—“

“Nonsense,” he grabs your elbow once more, “I’ll accompany you. C’mon.”

———

It’s definitely unnerving. It leaves you shaking with fear and you’re thankful for Kuroo’s strong grip on your arm as he maneuvers you out of the club.

The rush of cold wind hits your cheeks, leaving the soft beats of the club behind. Slowly, the world comes back into focus as the air rushes through your lungs and the sound bustling traffic in the distance is brought back into focus.

Only then do you realize how close you’re standing to the coach.

With a start, you stumble away with a muttered “sorry”, not daring to meet his eyes while quickly brushing off your clothes because dear god you weren’t sure what to do with your hands.

The uber arrives without much delay — thankfully — and the ride home is silent, almost as if there’s an awkward tension that has settled between the two of you. Away from the alcohol and now sobering up, it’s impossible to ignore the fact that you’d practically glued yourself to this man earlier. The act is so embarrassing you decidedly keep your gaze on the flurry of bustling streets and dim lamps flying by.

You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until a warm hand is shaking your shoulder, followed by a soft; “we’re here.”

You gasp, noticing that you’ve been pressed against Kuroo’s shoulder all this time.

“Oh,” you scramble away as quick as lightning, “I’m so sorry—“

His lips quirk upwards, “no harm done, senpai.”

You hate it when he calls you that. It makes you sound… old.

Nevertheless, you decide to be quiet as he accompanies you up to your flat, hands in his pockets while following you up the rusty stairs. You hope he’s not judging; it’s not like you have unlimited amounts of funding, what with Sakura’s education and activities.

“Well,” you finally reach the door to your flat and turn on your heel so that you face him, “thanks… for everything.”

"No problem," he's smiling down at you. Still so patient, still so happy to help. Your heart swells in your chest and you ask, "how are you getting back?"

"Oh, probably Uber..." he trails off, already turning away to fish his phone out of his pocket, "it's not far."

"Where do you live?"

You almost bawk when he tells you his address, because it's practically at the other end of town. He'll be there in forty-five minutes, at least.

The words are automatic, shooting out of you, "I'm so--"

But Kuroo's hand whips out, clamping over your lips. Your eyes widen as you look up at him, only to see the young man grinning like there's no tomorrow.

"You really need to stop doing that," he finally says before drawing back. Already, you're hit with the cold air following Kuroo's touch upon your skin, "I wanted to accompany you. There's nothing to apologize for."

"I know, but--"

He throws you another pointed look that has you clamping down on your mouth. You're about to say sorry once more because you're being a pathetic blubbery mess, but the look in his eyes makes you say a soft, "thank you" instead.

"You're welcome," and with one final grin and a wave to match, the school Coach disappears down the corridor, leaving you gazing at his broad back until his silhouette turns the corner and away from your sight.

206 notes · View notes

imaginedanvrs · 11 months ago

Text

where did you go?

part 1 l part 2 l masterlist

natasha x reader.

word count: 5.5k

warnings: alcoholism, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of torture, break up. ik you asked for a happy ending...

Your throat burned unbearably as you expelled the last few hours of poison you had consumed. The moment Natasha had left you had stumbled towards the bathroom unceremoniously and acquired several future bruises on the way. You were thankful that the redhead had cleaned the bathroom the day before as you clung to the toilet like a lifeline and threw up until your stomach ached. You barely jumped away when you felt a soft hand on your back, too drained to even consider fighting off any intruder. Fortunately, it was Wanda.

“Hey, sweetie,” she called softly as she crouched down next to you and rubbed your back soothingly. You whimpered in response and she tied back your hair gently. “You’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a state, huh?” She enquired as she continued to rub small circles below your shoulder blades.

“Yeah,” you hiccuped. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she assured you with a compassion you were sure you didn't deserve.

“Why are you here?” You asked as she passed you a glass of water.

“Nat called,” Wanda said honestly. She didn’t need to say any more. Even through your disorientation you could piece together what that meant. Natasha must have called the brunette after she left, knowing that it was dangerous for you to be left alone as you were.

“I fucked up, Wanda,” you told her. You hadn’t exactly lied when you finally expressed your fears to the redhead. They were all possibilities that you found yourself wondering every time you had a drink, but you had never meant to put them on Natasha in the way you had. You didn’t really blame her for any of it, you had just gotten so intently caught up in your anxieties that your developing habit of pushing her away had peaked in the worst way, adamant on keeping her away. Natasha was the best thing in your life, but you were certain that she didn’t deserve to be with someone who was afraid of her. It really was no fault of her own.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Wanda replied instead, not wanting to promise a reassurance that might not be kept. She didn’t know what had transpired between you and the other Avenger, but given that it had forced Natasha out of the apartment for Wanda to be by your side instead, she gathered it wasn’t something that could be fixed overnight.

With the aid of her magic, Wanda lifted you to your feet and supported you through the small apartment and into your bed where you collapsed in a heap and immediately passed out. The Sokovian methodically worked to adjust your body properly into the bed so you wouldn’t wake up aching more than you already would, then placed a sick bowl, painkillers and a fresh glass of water by your bedside. She couldn’t leave you as you were so she grabbed some blankets from your closet and made a bed up on the sofa with the door between you wide open.

Natasha typed away furiously on her laptop as she set her focus on the task at hand and would not allow it to waver. It had been some time since she had stayed in her old room at the tower. Even in the previous weeks where you and the redhead had been on unstable grounds, she had never desired to spend the night away from you, perhaps hoping it could possibly make up for the seven that she had. She had gotten some questioning looks from Tony and enquiries from F.R.I.D.A.Y when she had returned and ignored both as she made a b-line for her room with her laptop in hand. The billionaire had surely seen how Natasha’s face was flushed from previous tears, but he knew better than to approach with the present look on the spy’s face. She had cried enough on the drive there and refused to feel sorry for herself any longer. She had amends to make.

Natasha had no intention of asking for help regarding tracking down your kidnappers anymore. Instead, she was set on doing it herself and putting all of her time and energy into the task until she yielded the results she needed. Once she found the people she was looking for, she would kill every last one of them, protocol be damned, in an effort to give you one less thing to worry about. Though she hoped that if you knew that threat was gone, you would be more open to letting Natasha back into your life, the redhead was prepared for the act to be one purely out of revenge if not for reconciliation. One way or another, Natasha was going to add a few more drops of red to her ledger.

The headache that greeted you when you awoke was splitting. You winced and grabbed the back of your skull that felt as though it had been cracked wide open as you slept. You took the glass of water from your side and chugged half of the glass before you spotted the painkillers you didn’t recall placing there. You took them anyway and finished the glass before laying your heavy head back down with a quiet groan. Hangovers were not getting any easier.

Gradually, you started to recollect the night before until you could unmercifully remember every harsh word of your argument with your…with Natasha. Fuck, you cursed internally as you struggled to put aside the wholly heartbroken look in her eye at the unfair atrocities you had accused her of. Oh god, what had you done?

“Are you gonna puke again before I make you breakfast or are you saving it for after?” Wanda asked from the doorway, faltering when she saw your crestfallen expression. She walked over to your bed silently and sat by your side as you exhaled shakily.

“I can’t believe I did that,” you muttered. “Did…what did she say to you?” You asked when you noticed Wanda’s hesitation to respond.

“Nothing much, she just asked me to check in on you,” Wanda answered honestly.

“Oh,” you mumbled, unsure if you wanted to admit to the things you said to Natasha. “How did she seem?” You asked instead.

“It was only a text and she hasn’t answered me since,” Wanda told you, her features etched with her own concern.

“I said some shitty things,” you admitted shamefully.

“You were drunk,” Wanda stated though not as an excuse. “Why?” You weren’t sure you knew how to answer that.

“Did you say something about breakfast?” You asked instead, avoiding Wanda’s gaze. She shifted and stood up.

“Yeah, I’ll make something up,” she said, though you could hear in her voice that she wasn’t willing to let the subject go yet. That was understandable, you just needed some time to sort through your thoughts of the night before first so you got out of the bed and headed for the shower.

When you stepped out of the bathroom you were greeted by the hearty and generous smells of Wanda’s cooking that never lingered long enough for you to completely enjoy. You had been in the shower for a while, but you were surprised to see Wanda pull out a tray of breakfast muffins just as you strolled into the kitchen. You didn’t even think you had all the ingredients for it, but didn’t put it past the Sokovian to find a way around that and still have the muffins taste incredible. They also just so happened to be your friends go-to bargaining chip to get you to talk to her.

“I hope you won't offend me by not asking for seconds this time,” she teased as she placed the perfect hangover meal together on a plate for you before doing her own. You smiled sheepishly, knowing that your appetite hadn’t really grown since the last meal she had generously made for you. “So what’s going on with you?” She asked once you were both sat down.

“You don’t want to hear what I said to Nat first?” You countered but Wanda wasn’t phased.

“No, I want to know why I found my best friend almost passed out in her own puke,” she told you whilst refraining from giving you the look she wanted to. There was no point kicking you while you were down, but it was clear that Wanda wasn’t pleased at what she had seen. “How often does that happen?”

“That was the first time it was that bad,” you said honestly. “I just…” you sighed. “I needed something to tune out the memories.” Wanda considered that as she looked at you, knowing that there was a hefty weight to your thoughts because she could feel how they were dragging you down. Except that the night before, Wanda could feel them crushing you, whether you felt it or not. “And I know it’s a habit I can’t have but it’s the only thing that helps me cope,” you told her.

“But you’re not coping, y/n,” Wanda said. “And I think you know that.” You did, it was just hard to accept.

“That doesn’t make how I treated Nat okay,” you muttered. Wanda wasn’t quite ready to move on from what she saw as the more important topic, but she let it slide for the time being for you to say what you needed to. “I blamed her for what happened.”

“Is that how you really feel?”

“No…” you paused. “I was just pissed off and scared,” you admitted upon reflection.

“Scared of what?” You bit your cheek, not wanting to admit it sober.

“Everyting,” you muttered instead. Wanda nodded though she saw that there was something more specific you were holding back.

“I think you should come stay with me for a bit,” she said, something you weren’t expecting.

“I can’t burden you with that-” you started.

“You’re not and I don’t want you to be on your own,” she insisted with an adamance you recognised you couldn’t dissuade her of. She didn’t want to outright say it, but she was also determined to stop you drinking. “Besides, how much longer does your sick pay last?” Your stomach dropped as you thought of all the emails and texts you had been ignoring from your workplace that only knew vaguely of what had happened. Your reaction was enough for the brunette.

“Thank you.”

Despite her body’s natural response, Natasha forced her breathing to deepen and steady as she examined the five men ahead of her. Usually, she didn’t have to think twice about steadying her breathing when she was faced with opponents on missions. After all of the tedious training from the red room, the spy’s body had become somewhat conditioned to calm itself at any sign of danger or potential threats, and yet when faced with the unremarkables ahead of her, Natasha struggled to subside her emotions. She wanted to kill them all. She would, but not if she rushed ahead and disposed of the first five too hastily.

Eventually, the three more men that Natasha had been waiting for emerged to join the five. She could name all eight of them, but she didn’t care to. The extensive research she had done when she finally discovered the identities of those that took you had only been for the purpose of Natasha discovering their weaknesses. She had no interest in talking to them and making them see their wrongdoing. She wasn’t going to capture them and hand them over to S.H.I.E.L.D and let the government hand them their punishment. She wasn’t going to tell them how exactly they had fucked up badly enough to sign their death warrants. She was going to make them suffer.

Just as one of the men lit up his lighter and held it up to the cigarette between his lips, Natasha threw the sleek gas cylinder out from around the corner and pressed her back to the wall despite wanting to watch. The cylinder only made a noise when it hit the ground at the group’s feet, by which point it was too late for them to avoid because the gas expelled from the small device and immediately reacted to the small flame. The explosion was grand, but it wasn’t enough to kill all eight of the men. That worked just fine.

Natasha emerged as the remaining targets struggled to get their bearings and understand what had just hit them. Some of them would never know because two Natasha shot dead the moment she approached. Another received a knife to the neck that the redhead kept lodged in a second longer than necessary. For the rest, Natasha brought out her batons. She struck the remaining three over and over, caught in a blaze of anger that she couldn't get a handle on. She was striking them down on autopilot, barely able to see through the screen of red that told her to keep hitting. Hundreds of bolts shot through their bodies at any one time but it wasn’t enough. Nothing would be for what they had done. They had destroyed the woman she loved and no amount of pain Natasha could inflict would rival what either of you felt. She could still try.

Natasha’s hands were still stained red when she returned to the tower. She cursed when she noticed, only then coming down from her adrenaline and rage enough to be able to see clearly. The spy grabbed her wipes that she kept in her glove compartment and methodically started to swipe at each of her digits, concealing what she had done as best she could because nothing about it had been allowed. Natasha had used her own weapons that she kept secret from all of her coworkers and friends, she had driven in the dead of night, no one knew she had found your captors. She had done everything she could to cover her tracks, but her head remained foggy and it put her at risk of slipping up. Even though she wouldn’t have been arrested for killing your captors, she would be in deep shit with Fury. She wasn’t even entirely sure if she should tell you.

“Couldn’t sleep?” A voice asked as Natasha stepped out of her car. She recognised the voice immediately and turned around at a casual pace to see Maria sauntering towards her with her own keys in hand. Though she didn’t live there, it wasn’t unusual for the agent to spend the occasional night at the compound if it wasn’t deemed safe for her to return to her own home after a mission.

“No,” Natasha said simply.

“Me neither,” Maria told the redhead, apparently oblivious to the real reason Natasha was in the tower’s garage. “Want some company?” She asked as she leant against the hood of Natasha’s car with a glint in her eye that the Russian recognised from before she had started dating you.

“I was just about to go up,” Natasha dismissed, not clearly enough.

“So was I,” she continued with an easy grin Natasha couldn’t reciprocate. She had no interest in hooking up with Maria, even if she wasn’t in a relationship at that moment. It would still feel like a betrayal towards you and the love she couldn’t seem to let go.

“Maria,” Natasha said slowly, feeling herself grow tired from her excursion. The agent nodded after a moment, knowing that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with the redhead.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I’ll see you around, Romanoff,” she said as she ventured back to her car while Natasha continued on, not sparing a glance back so that she could instead pull out her phone. She looked briefly at her unanswered texts to you, unsurprised to find them still ignored, then went to Wanda’s contact. She knew that there was little chance she would get a response from the Sokovian at two am, but she tried her luck anyway.

Nat: does y/n need anything bringing over? I thought I’d come and see her tmrw, she typed and stared at the screen for a few moments before turning it off.

Wanda chewed her lip as she read the message, trying to put together something in her sleep hazy mind that wouldn’t hurt the redhead. Wanda: no need : ) let’s raincheck that for now, she sent off.

Nat: she doesn’t want to see me? Natasha replied instantly.

Wanda: it’s only been a couple weeks

Nat: how is she?

Wanda: better, Wanda typed honestly.

Nat: keep me updated, she replied, knowing that was all she could do.

Wanda: get some rest : ) Natasha didn’t respond as she smiled weakly at her phone before laying down on her unhomely bed. She missed sleeping next to you. She doubted that you missed it though.

You really had improved since you started staying with Wanda, even if it didn’t feel like it to you. You had stopped drinking, but the nightmares were back. You didn’t like being on your own, but you also struggled to stay in anyone’s company for too long, Wanda included. You had been out a handful of times with the Sokovian to the grocery store around the corner, keeping close to her side the entire time and needed some days to recover before trying again. You were beyond frustrated with the mental barriers that dented your progress and Wanda’s reassurance didn’t help when your self loathing was as high as it was. You just wanted life to go back to the way it was, that included Natasha’s part in it.

That was the cause of most of your distress: wanting to be back in the Russian’s arms and yet unable to imagine what would transpire once you were. You knew that she would never hurt you, but you couldn’t unsee what your mind had conjured up when you had been taken. You couldn’t have mistaken how her usual comforting smile had been twisted in something sinister as she rained down her torments on your helpless body. You couldn’t forget.

Wanda had encouraged you numerous times to open up about that week to her. She wanted to offer you some understanding and empathy about the moments you were plagued by so relentlessly in hopes of driving them away, but you could never face recalling them to your friend. You were aware that it could help, you just weren’t sure if it was worth it.

The weeks you had spent with Wanda had also come with some expected lows where your progress had wavered. You had stopped drinking but there had been numerous occasions where you had come close to breaking your promise to the brunette only for her to stop you at the last moment. You never lashed out at her for it, only feeling terribly ashamed to be caught and yet it still wasn’t enough to rid you of those cravings entirely. Although Wanda couldn’t be around all the time to watch you, you were fortunate enough that she was there when they hit you at your worst. That usually came when the nightmares did.

You grasped at your throat as you woke with a start, immediately kicking away from the body that loomed next to you. Your mind was racing too rapidly to process the gentle reassurance coming from the figure, nor did you stare too long to make out Wanda’s face in the dark until you were on the other side of the bed. You held a hand out to create some kind of barrier between you and the intruder until the comforting red expelled from her fingertips to illuminate her concerned features. Your breathing steadied marginally but your heart continued to pound. Your dreams had seeped through and it still felt like there was a constriction around your neck. You scratched at it as if to break free from the invisible force only for Wanda to settle on the bed and carefully remove your hands.

“None of that,” she instructed with hesitance.

“But there’s…” you panted, scanning the room.

“No one’s here,” Wanda reassured. You wanted to believe the logic of what she said, but you had seen the other woman as clearly as the day you broke her heart.

“I thought she was,” you whispered, as though the spy was watching from the shadows.

“Who?” Wanda frowned.

“Natasha,” you answered, eyes set on the window across from you. This seemed to make the brunette take you seriously because her eyes flickered over to the window as well. “It was just a dream,” you dismissed after a moment.

“What happened?” Wanda enquired as she tore her attention away from the window and onto you.

“I was there,” you breathed out. The Sokovian stilled. This was the part where you always shut off. “And so was she,” you added.

“Natasha?” Wanda asked with a slight furrow between her brows. You nodded, not looking at your friend. “Do you see her there a lot?” You scoffed but just as quickly a tear sprung to your eyes.

“She’s always there. She was there,” you muttered as you squeezed your eyes shut. “I know she wasn’t really. She would never…it wasn’t real but she…I saw monsters, Wanda. And Nat was one of them,” you admitted as you finally turned to your noticeably shocked roommate. She wasn’t sure how to respond but fortunately you didn’t seem to know how to stop as you continued to ramble on.

“They gave me some kind of gas that must have made me hallucinate because everytime they came all I could see was her. Sometimes there were others with her like those stupid fucking clowns from those horror movies Tony used to get us all to watch.” Wanda could recall those late night horror showings. You were great with them until Tony decided to put the clown ones on, then you hid behind Natasha the entire evening and apparently had a nightmare or two after. Wanda knew it must be easy to dismiss a fear like that until it felt as though you were physically at its mercy.

“And I know it wasn’t really her. I know it. But I can’t look at her without remembering what I’ve seen her do to me,” you told the Sokovian as your lower lip trembled and you couldn’t speak any longer.

“Oh honey,” was all Wanda could offer you as she pulled you into her chest and tried to piece together what that kind of experience would have done to her. She couldn’t imagine how she would see Pietro if she had thought he had committed such sadistic acts towards her. How would she ever move on from that? As you clung to Wanda’s frame, the young hero finally realised the extent of your pain and how little she could offer you in comfort when the only person you truly wanted it from had their image fractured. It was clear you both still cared for each other, but was that enough?

“I still love her,” you muttered.

“I know you do,” Wanda responded.

“Do you think she still loves me?” You asked.

“She does,” the Sokovian said honestly. “She misses you.”

“I want to see her,” you said with a certain determination to your words. “Tomorrow,” you added, deciding that you couldn’t spend any longer putting it off.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Wanda inquired.

“Maybe just part of the way?” You shrugged, already knowing where you wanted to meet Natasha.

“Okay, you better get some rest then,” she encouraged and you nodded. “I’m glad you told me all of that,” she said.

“Me too,” you smiled, watching as she left the room for you to take out your hardly used phone to text Natasha. She hadn’t messaged you much since she left, trying to give you the space you requested. It took you several minutes to put together a text to her.

Me: hey, are you free to meet up tmrw? I was thinking of our coffee shop : ). Natasha replied in less than a minute.

Nat: Yeah that sounds great, usual time? She asked as if nothing had changed. You appreciated that.

Me: yep : )

Nat: perfect, see you then : )

Neither of you slept much that night, both in equal shock that you had actually given Natasha an invitation to meet. Natasha was thrilled you wanted to meet and she took the location you chose to be a good sign. It was where you had your first date, an attempt at something any normal civilian couple would do despite you being anything but. You visited it often as the years went by and it comforted the spy to know that you still saw it as something you shared.

She told herself that over and over as she sat in your usual spot towards the back of the cafe as she waited for you. It wasn’t that she thought you wouldn’t show up because you had never been one to bail on her, but the redhead couldn’t help but wonder how you would deal with being in the city with her. However, when you stepped through the door, she almost forgot everything she was anxious about.

You smiled at Natasha from across the room, feeling everything else around you blur to the background as it always did when she was around. That was helpful then more than ever, knowing that she still provided some consolation to you when the world was too loud. You exhaled shakily and drifted towards her as she stood up.

“Hey,” she smiled, refraining from reaching out to hug you and instead pulled your chair out. “I’ll get your drink,” she told you at once.

“Thank you,” you said to her as she ventured over to the counter. You glanced out the window to the morning streets that you had successfully navigated with Wanda’s help, relieved that you had been able to make it to the cafe without any issues. It was good. You were doing good.

You thanked Natasha again as she placed your usual order down in front of you, not surprised in the slightest that she remembered and paid for it. “How are you?” You asked, beating her to it.

“Better, and you?” She said after a beat.

“Better,” you smiled as you took Natasha in. She was wearing loose jeans and a hoodie with her hair down as though it really was just another trip to the coffee shop. Even though you could pick up the indicators that she was tired, she still carried herself with that effortless beauty that had you stumbling over your own feet the day you first met.

“I’m glad you texted,” Natasha told you as she tried to catch your eye. You met them.

“I wanted to see you,” you told her honestly. “I didn’t like how we left things last time even though that was my fault,” you paused to consider how to say what you wanted.

“It wasn’t,” she jumped in as she looked down at your hands, refraining from leaning over to hold them.

“Nat, I made the decision to drink, that’s on me,” you told her firmly, not wanting her to keep making excuses for the actions that hurt her. She wouldn’t do that for anyone else. “The things I said,” you paused and Natasha shifted, “they weren’t fair.”

“At least it was honest,” she said.

“Not entirely. None of what happened was your fault, Tasha.” She brightened at the nickname. “You’ve never done anything except try to look out for me. With your line of work you know that even the gods can’t always save everyone,” you attempted to quip, finding yourself more at ease with the redhead than you had been in a while.

“I put you in danger when I asked you out,” she said but you wouldn’t let her fall down that rabbit hole.

“I knew the risk. I would take it again,” you replied simply. Natasha looked at you with hesitation.

“That’s not how you felt when you were drunk,” the redhead pointed out. She didn’t want you to start saying things for the sole purpose of making her feel better.

“It is, I was just trying to push you away,” you admitted shamefully. Natasha’s brows furrowed briefly as she tried to detect any lies from you.

“Why?” You sighed, peering down at your empty cup.

“Do you want to get some air?” There was a park just short of the coffee shop that would give you the chance to be more open with Natasha without having to worry about anyone overhearing you. What you had to say certainly wasn’t something you wanted anyone listening in on.

“Sure,” Natasha agreed, getting up as you did and walking several paces in front to open the door for you. You walked side by side in silence until you reached the park, Natasha in anticipation of what you had to say while you overworked your brain to piece something coherent together while being overly aware of your surroundings. Going out was getting easier, but it still had its moments of stress.

“You’ve been really good with me these past few months,” you told Natasha once you made it past the gates. “I couldn’t have asked anything else of you.” The redhead didn’t respond nor did she appear convinced. “But it was hard being around you.” It was a painful truth, but one she needed to know. “Because the last time I was, I was in there.” Natasha peered at you as you walked but didn’t dare interrupt.

“They kept me in this room that um…” you bit your cheek and dug your nails into your palms in an effort to give yourself something more uncomfortable to deal with to distract you. “There was this gas that came through the vents sometimes, before they came. It did something to my head. It made me see things.” Your heart started to pump faster as the images from your nightmares flashed before you. You had to keep going.

“I saw those creepy fucking clowns holding knives to me. I saw thousands of spiders crawl across the walls and over me. I saw each of the six walls contract. I saw diseased feral dogs. I saw you.” Natasha peered at you but you didn’t dare meet her eyes with what you were imagining.

“I know it wasn’t real. You weren’t there. You never said or did the things I felt but fuck it was all so vivid and I was scared and you just wouldn’t stop- but I know it wasn’t you but…” when you finally looked at Natasha, your saw tears brewing in her eyes as quickly as they were in yours. “They stole you from me,” you whispered, voice cracking without the realisation that Natasha felt exactly the same way. They had stolen you too. She stopped when she suddenly felt light headed.

“They’re gone, y/n. I fixed it.” She didn’t have to clarify, you knew exactly what she meant. You had known the spy long enough to know the difference between prison and grave. “But I think a part of us was buried with them,” she admitted as tears streamed down her pale face. You reached forwards and took ahold of both of her hands.

“That’s not fair,” you defied as you felt the small pressure below your eyes that always came before you began to cry. “I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.” A smile cracked through Natasha’s features.

“We never were very good at them,” she said, causing a pained laugh to fall between you as you both shared the memory of how you left your first few dates with an awkward wave goodbye as you had both considered kissing the other until the moment had passed. So much hesitancy for something you both wanted at the fear of messing up. You had missed your turn of the roll of the dice then and had been fortunate enough to jump in at your next turn but you weren’t sure you were going to get another go in this game.

“Do you want me to call Wanda to come and pick you up?” She asked dutifully. This was so not fucking fair.

“No,” you defied again. “They don’t get to win. Not when I still love you,” you objected, unwilling to let go. “Will you…will you give me another chance?” You could see the hesitation in the way Natasha was looking at you and you feared that she had already grieved the part of you she had lost.

“Only if you let me help you,” she decided. You knew that agreeing to that was easier said than done and that there was a chance you could screw things up if you failed on your end of the deal. But that wouldn’t be fair and you were done disregarding the best part of your life based on a fear that had just had its foundations destroyed.

“Okay,” you whispered, a smile breaking through as you gazed at the redhead.

“Can I hug you?” She asked tentatively. You didn’t give her an answer, instead pulling her impossibly close and clinging onto the woman you loved and swore never to push away again. You would start over, make it better, make it right. You would heal, together, and regrow that part of you that had been lost into something far stronger.

#natasha romanoff #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha x reader #wanda maximoff #gxg marvel #natasha romanoff imagines

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jishyucks · 1 year ago

Text

Desk Deliveries — ljn

‣ pairing: lee jeno x reader

‣ genre: fluff, implied f2l/coworkers-to-lovers, secret admirer au, office!au

‣ wc: 5.6k

‣ summary: When gifts start appearing on your work desk on December 1st, you have no choice but to hunt down the man who’s been planting them. And with only 7 men on the floor, this shouldn’t be difficult… Right?

‣ warnings: nothing really?, cliche-ish ending, a lot of dialogue (I gotta get this story goingggg)

‣ an: jeno’s wooooo, honestly easier to write than I thought but it’s wayyyy longer than I wanted it to be (I keep underestimating? myself), I just hope it’s up to my own standards lmaooo, but hopefully u guys enjoy!

Series Masterlist

DECEMBER 1

Desk Delivery!

Starting today, consider your desk a treasure trove of surprises.

‘Tis the season of giving, after all, and your radiant presence in the office deserves to be celebrated.

Each gift is carefully chosen, a small reflection of the little things I love about you. I hope they bring a smile to your face and add a sprinkle of magic to your December days.

Stay curious,

Your Secret Admirer (or would Secret Santa fit the season?)

You almost laugh out loud, blinking at the note sitting on your desk. This must be a joke, right?

“What is that?” Karina digs her chin into your shoulder, reading the note from behind you.

“Some joke,” you reply, letting her pluck the card from your fingertips.

She pouts, “But it’s cute!”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” you counter, taking the card back.

“I just don’t believe it’s real.”

DECEMBER 3

Today, you arrive at the office greeted with a small, neatly wrapped cube on your desk and you’re beginning to think that the message you were given on the 1st wasn’t a joke and that, whoever it was, was being serious.

You glance around the office to see if any of your coworkers were present, but you seemed to be the first one there. Your brows furrow, carefully sliding the box toward you before ripping the wrapping paper.

You use your office scissors to slice the tape open, and then once you are sure you can open the box to see what was in it, you take a deep breath in. You push the box away from you so it’s at arm’s length, afraid that something was going to pop out when you lift the flaps open. Counting to three in your head, you ready your fingers to lift the covers after the third count.

Fully expecting there to be fake snakes of some sort, you were met with nothing (thankfully). You pull the box back and peek in to find a mug and a card. Your brows furrow, pulling the card out first.

I know how much you love that mug of yours, Y/N…

But it’s time to retire that broken one.

Got you a new one. Hope you like it!

Your Secret Admirer

You can’t help but giggle at the tone of the writer, placing the card down before going for the mug. You’ve been teased maybe once or twice for using a mug with no handle, mostly because you’ve been complaining about how the edges of the glass edges left behind by the absent handles had been poking at your palm.

Carefully, you fish the cup out of the box, making sure you won’t drop and shatter the present before you can even use it, and you use your other hand to pull the box off. And when you finally get a good look at the mug, you laugh out loud, bringing it up to eye level to get a good look at it.

It was the exact same mug you already have been using, the only difference was that this one actually had a handle.

You were so caught up in your present that you didn't notice Karina approaching you, “Morning, smiley face.”

“Huh?” you blink at her, confused.

“I would take a picture of you right now, but I’m too lazy,” she huffs, “But you’re smiling like a child on Christmas Day.” Karina blatantly points at your face, “Who’s got you smiling like that?”

You shrug but gesture to the card and the mug, “I don’t think that first one was a joke…”

DECEMBER 4

“Hey! Hey, Y/N!”

You hear someone call your name, but you don’t actually hear it. It was sort of like background noise to your thoughts, entering one ear and leaving the other.

“Y/N! Hey!”

Then, you feel something rough hit the side of your face and you realize that Karina was peeking over the wall of her cubicle and into yours.

“What the fuck do you want!” you whisper. You pick up the balled-up scrap paper she had thrown before throwing it back to her, “I’m trying to work!”

She dodges the ball with ease, head briefly disappearing then reappearing, “Do you have any candidates for who your secret admirer could be?”

Karina was speaking a little bit too loud for your liking, so you gestured for her to come closer. She doesn’t hesitate to leave her workspace to enter yours, sitting down on an empty spot on your desk, “So? Candidates?”

You shake your head, “Barely. I was only able to pick out that the writing is a guy’s writing because the girls have neat writing… Other than that, I have nothing.”

The two letters sitting on your desk were your only explicit clues. Then, you had the thing with the mug, but everyone knew of your broken mug. So really, it was just the handwriting that you had as insight.

“Okay, so it’s a guy…” Karina hums. She stretches her neck to glance around the office, “And there’s only like… seven? It wouldn’t be difficult to eliminate some of them.” She picks up your two cards to examine the cards. You can see her eyes move back and forth between the letters, pressing her lips into a thin line. “It’s not Renjun.”

“Huh? How do you know that?”

“He handwrites,” Karina states, “Like straight-up longhand writing. So it’s not him.”

“How do you know he’s not just changing up his writing so it’s not obvious?” you narrow your eyes.

Karina laughs, “Okay, you have a point, but let’s just say that he’s out temporarily, to make it easier on us. In the case that everyone else is out, then it’s Renjun.”

You don’t notice the way your face scrunches up, your facial features pushing in toward your nose.

“Hey, what’s with the face?” Karina’s head tilts to the side. It takes a beat and a half before she realizes, “Wait, you don’t want it to be Renjun, do you?”

You don’t answer, mostly because you didn’t want to outright say that you didn’t want Renjun to be your admirer—no offense to him. Renjun was a great guy, but he wasn’t someone who you saw yourself being with. And if you were to actually build a relationship with this person, you didn’t want it to be Renjun.

An all-knowing smirk appears on Karina’s face, “Then who do you want it to be?”

You want to throw a punch at Karina’s knee, but you remember you are still in the workplace and you need to keep it (at least a little bit) professional. “Fuck you, you already know the answer to that.”

Jeno, Karina thinks.

“Of course you want it to be him,” Karina puts the cards back down, “I should have known. You’re down bad for that man.”

Karina wasn’t wrong. You and Jeno go way back to your internship days, and your (hopeless) crush on him has been there since then.

“Down bad for who?”

From seemingly out of nowhere, Chenle appears at the corner of your cubicle, leaning against it as he takes a sip of his coffee. And of course, wherever Chenle was, Jisung followed, standing right next to the former.

“Uh, that-that one actor!” you lie in a panic, “From that one show!”

“You suck at lying,” Chenle snorts, “You could have at least named someone. It could have been Nam Joohyuk for all I care.”

“It’s not you guys if that’s what you’re thinking,” Karina snickers, “Sorry, boys.”

Jisung and Chenle burst out laughing, almost comically in sync. They even threw in a high-five, though it was out of habit. “No offense, Y/N, but I don’t see you in that light.” Chenle is practically in tears.

“No offense, Chenle, but I don’t either,” you reply, “Now can you guys please leave my space or I’m reporting you guys to Taeyong.” And that sends them away because it wasn’t the first time they’ve been reported.

“Okay so we can scratch those two off the list,” Karina concludes.

And you nod.

So far, so good. This should be easy.

DECEMBER 8

Okay, it wasn’t as easy as you thought.

All your interactions with the other guys were normal. None of them seemed suspicious enough for you to star, nor did any of them do anything that ruled themselves off your list, and you had to admit, it was frustrating.

Of all the boys, the most suspicious was Jaemin, who snickered every time he passed your desk. But when you mentioned this to Karina, Karina pointed out that Jaemin was like that in general, always up to his own shenanigans like Donghyuck was.

“That or he knows something,” Karina thinks, “We should ask him.”

It was nearing the end of the day and you and Karina were sitting at one of the open tables by the floor’s wall of windows, mugs in hand while you carefully eyed the boys of the department.

Karina’s about to walk up to Jaemin when you stop her, pinching her blouse to keep her from leaving, “I don’t think Jaemin’s stupid enough to spill anything if we ask. We have to make it subtle.”

“Subtle, how?”

You shrug, “Just subtle.”

“Subtle, how?” Karina repeats.

You want to bonk her in the head, “I guess pretend like you don’t really care, maybe say you think it’s Renjun or something and see what he says.”

Let’s say Jaemin really did know who your admirer was. If Karina were to think it was someone else, she could note the way Jaemin would react to her guesses and you both can go from there.

You shoo her away and let her do her thing, staying back to pretend you were watching cars drive past down below.

In 8 days, the only clues you were able to gather included the fact that he was a boy, he worked on this floor (the mug thing), he liked to end his J’s in loop de loops, and there was always some type of water or coffee stain on the cards.

The last clue was something you and Karina had just recently discovered, simply because the first few cards were wrinkled in the slightest with water, while the most recent one, today's, had been stained with a drop of coffee.

You’re not sure if these were purposeful or accidental, but nonetheless, you and Karina took any details as clues, hoping that it would lead to a conclusion.

“You haven’t blinked for a while.”

“Shit, I didn’t hear you come,” you greet Jeno with an awkward smile, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, “I was just deep in thought.”

Jeno’s eyes disappear when he smiles and your stomach does that thing it does when he does so. It’s so stupid how you’re feeling like a giddy high schooler around this man, but you’ll defend yourself any day and blame him for everything.

“Is it about your secret admirer?” Jeno questions. He’s facing the window and you’re facing him. You can see him peeking at you through the corner of his eye and he’s smiling teasingly.

Your eyes widen, “Wait, how do you know about that?” You haven’t told anyone but Karina, Chenle, and Jisung, the last two only earning the information for being the most persistent duo on the planet.

“Word gets around,” he shrugs, “And I pass your desk to and from the elevator.”

You’re guessing the two younger boys had let it slip out but you disregard them for now, “Oh… right…”

“So, what about him?” Jeno questions.

“Just… I don’t know who it is….”

Jeno turns to you and you’re taken aback by how tired he looks. Sure, everyone in this damn office repped the good ‘ol panda eyes, but Jeno’s hair was a bit dishevelled, eyes half closed from fatigue. You choose not to point it out.

Jeno’s words register in your head and your brows furrow, “Wait… how do you know they’re a he? I didn’t say anything about him unless…” You don’t quite notice the way Jeno freezes up only because he wasn’t moving much beforehand. “Unless you know who he is!”

Jeno shakes his head, “Jisung told me!”

“I didn’t tell Jisung anything.” “You probably told Karina who told Chenle who told Jisung!” At this point, Jeno’s heart is beating at an erratically fast pace and he’s about to panic until Karina returns. She’s pouting, a tinge of disappointment evident on her face and Jeno takes this as his chance to escape.

“What did Jaemin say?” Your attention is easily pulled away from your friend, “Did he say anything?”

“No,” Karina grumbles, “I accidentally let it slip out that this was about your admirer and all he said was, 'Secret admirer, huh? Wouldn't you like to know.'” Karina mocks Jaemin’s voice, rolling her eyes. “But I guess that just proves that he knows something… it’ll just be harder to get it out of him.”

“Jeno’s being suspicious now, too,” you nod your head to the boy.

Sure it could be implied that your admirer was one of the guys, but the way the man had handled your questions was definitely something to take note of.

DECEMBER 10

“Please tell me you’ll be leaving after you finish this?” Another one of your coworkers, Minjeong, was standing at the edge of your cubicle, leaning against the divider. You can tell she’s ready to leave, hands stuffed deep into her pockets, “Everyone’s left besides Mr. Jo.”

Mr. Jo was the custodian.

“I will, I promise.” You don’t even look up from your screen, waving your hand in her direction as if it would make her scurry away, “I’m almost done. Have a good night, Jeongie!”

She returns your farewell and leaves, knowing that you won’t budge until you finish your task.

You genuinely were near completion. You just had a few more points in the report to finish before you reached your goal for tonight and you’ll go home.

Your fingers are flying across your keyboard, fatigued eyes blinking at the words you were producing in hopes that they were coherent. Your brain had shut down an hour ago and now you were on autopilot.

Who cares if it’s coherent if I’m going to edit it anyway? You think. And now you were carelessly typing, making typos left and right.

When you finally finish the draft, you grab your mug from your coaster to put in the office’s sink. Your eyes finally catch a break from staring at the screen for so long, practically feeling your ocular muscles relax. Closing your eyes, you blindly make your way down the pathway, which honestly was easy after the amount of times you’ve made your way down it.

But when your feet hit something that was obviously not as hard as a cubicle wall you freeze.

Shit.

Your eyes fly open and quickly look at what you have unintentionally kicked.

“Jeno?” You blink your eyes a couple times to make sure you aren’t just seeing things.

Sprawled out on his desk was Jeno, fast asleep. There was a small pond of drool underneath his cheek, mouth hanging open. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Jeno.” You feel the need to whisper now, leaning over to shake his shoulder. “Jeno!”

He begins to stir, “Huh? Wha?”

“What are you still doing here?” you ask.

One eye stuck closed, he glances around the empty office. The side that he had been lying on was flat as if he had been in that position for a while. Jeno yawns and stretches, his back popping a little as he sits up.

"I was waiting for you to finish," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.

You glance at the clock on his computer screen, realizing it's much later than you thought. "Jeno, it's getting late. You didn’t need to wait for me."

He shrugs, a sleepy smile on his face. "I didn't want you to go home alone in the dark. Plus, I figured you might need some company."

You hit him on the shoulder, “You dumbass!”

Jeno winces even though you didn’t even hit him too hard. “Ow!”

“I didn’t even know you were here! Dumbass!” You throw another thwack at his shoulder blade, “You’re lucky I tripped over your foot!” Jeno ignores you and starts getting up, pulling out his packed bag underneath his desk, “You should’ve told me you were gonna wait for me.”

“Yeah, but then you would’ve pushed me onto the elevator so that I could leave,” Jeno replies. "Ready to head home?"

Although you and Jeno don’t live anywhere near each other, your place was on the way to his. Usually, you’d walk home and go sightseeing as you walked past the small shops on the way, but because the weather could freeze your arteries shut, you’re forced to transit home.

"Sure, let's go." You pack up your things quickly, and the two of you head towards the elevator.

As you wait for the elevator doors to open, you glance at Jeno. His eyes are still a bit heavy with sleep, but there's a warmth in them that makes your heart flutter. When he notices you looking, he tightens his lips to give you a tired grin that reaches his eyes. The office is quiet now, only the hum of the elevator breaking the silence.

Once inside, Jeno presses the button for the ground floor, and the elevator starts its descent. The dim lighting casts a soft glow on both of you, and you can't help but appreciate the peaceful moment.

"Long day, huh?" Jeno breaks the silence, his tone sympathetic. “Your secret admirer mystery still bothering you?"

You chuckle and nod, "Yes. But it just makes me more determined to figure it out."

"Any progress?" Jeno raises an eyebrow, curious.

You shake your head, "Not really. It's driving me crazy."

"Maybe it's someone you least expect," Jeno suggests with a playful smile.

"Maybe," you reply, unsure. The elevator doors open, and you both step out and into the nearly empty office lobby. Then you think out loud, eyes narrowing as you look at Jeno through your lashes, “Maybe it’s you.”

The cold wind hits you as you exit the building, making you shiver. You pull your coat tighter around you, and Jeno does the same.

“Why? Do you want it to be me?” Jeno smirks playfully.

“I don’t know,” you lie, “I’m just asking because there’s a possibility it’s you. Besides Chenle and Jisung, you’re the only one willingly asking about him.” That really couldn’t even mean anything, but it’s suspicious. You’re starting to think this was a joke set up by all the guys, and you’re the target.

“Nope, it’s not me,” Jeno stares ahead of you both, and you miss the way he swallows his spit when he says it, “And I don’t know who it is either. That’s why I’m asking.”

You look at him to detect if Jeno was lying—maybe a nose twitch, multiple blinks, or a dishonest glance to the side—nothing.

You feel your heart skip a beat, and not in the way you liked. Because, sure, you didn’t care about who this person was, but for the past week and a half, you’ve been raising your hopes that it was Jeno who had been leaving these presents for you.

You realize that that was a mistake.

A weak laugh shoots out your mouth, almost sounding like a huff and you force a smile on your face, “Well… that’s a relief.”

DECEMBER 15

Losing a bit of interest in your admirer just because it wasn’t the person you wanted it to be wasn’t fair to your actual admirer. Especially when they were still putting the effort into dropping off those presents and writing those letters.

The day after, you had told Karina that Jeno made it clear that your admirer wasn’t him and she refused to believe it, delusion taking over for your sake. She said something along the lines of ‘can’t say it’s not Jeno until there’s solid proof’.

This morning you decided to switch up your strategy and arrive at work early. For the past 2 weeks, these little deliveries had appeared on your desk either after you left or before you arrived, and since you had kept track of who left the office yesterday evening, you were sure that he was going to be coming in early this morning to leave his present.

You greet the security guard in the lobby, leaving your mouth more as a yawn than an actual sentence before you hop onto the elevator and cross your fingers for luck.

The office is quiet and dimly lit as you enter, the only sound being the gears of the elevators turning as the doors slide open. Once you step out, you’re quick to scan the room before ultimately settling your gaze on your desk.

The universe couldn’t have timed this any better.

Standing at your desk, you see a figure, gently placing a wrapped box on your desk. You hold back a gasp, clamping your mouth shut with your palm, not wanting to bring attention to yourself. The man appeared oblivious to the elevator letting someone off, his back still turned to you.

You catch the sound of his satisfied hum, and just before he pivots, you quickly move to a concealed hallway, keeping yourself out of sight. A lingering fear holds you back from confronting whoever this person is, but you so badly want to know who it is. You figured it would make the confronting part easier.

Footsteps grow closer before they stop, and you can easily guess he’s standing in front of the elevators. With curiosity getting the best of you, you risk being seen and lean your head around the corner, just enough so that one of your eyes can see who the boy was.

Another gasp attempts to leave your mouth when you finally recognize who it was.

Jaemin?

The elevator arrives at your floor before you can even process that it was truly him you just saw, almost as if you’ve seen his ghost and he was gone before you knew it.

So your secret admirer was Na Jaemin?

In a way it made sense. You and Karina had ruled him as one of the more suspicious ones. He and Jeno were close, so Jeno being curious about your progress added up. Now you have solid proof that Jaemin actually was your secret admirer.

How were you going to let him down easily?

DECEMBER 19

Despite having the weekend and Karina's assistance to strategize how to break the news to Jaemin, you found yourself at work on Monday without a clear plan. Today, you mentally braced yourself for another gift, feeling a pang of guilt as you realized your friend and coworker had been investing so much effort, only for his feelings to not be returned.

Today’s box was slim and rectangular, wrapped in the paper you’ve grown familiar with. At first glance, it looked like a wine box, but you quickly deemed it too short to be a wine bottle.

With a bit of hesitation, you carefully pick at the paper, ripping it open before you slice the tape that was keeping the box closed. Then you pry the box open, flipping the flaps over so that you can see the item from a bird’s eye view.

Huh?

You pull it out—an umbrella in your favourite colour. On the handle, your initials are engraved into the plastic. The umbrella looked beautiful, but considering the other presents, this was… random.

Your eyes catch sight of a card at the bottom of the box and you stick your arm in to fish it out.

I bet you’re curious as to who I am, right?

I think I kept you waiting far too long for a hint.

A hint?

Your heart picks up its pace and your eyes scramble to keep reading.

Today’s gift? An umbrella.

Bought one for myself and one for you because we need to be prepared next time.

I don’t know about you, but I didn’t enjoy being drenched in rain at work.

Your Secret Admirer

A hint.

Hell, it was more than a hint.

Your eyes grow wide as you reread the note over and over, your heartbeat fluttering. It flutters because you know exactly what your admirer was talking about.

Back during the rainy season, the morning you were getting ready for work, you completely disregarded the weather forecast and left your house without an umbrella or an appropriate coat. And much to your stupidity, you told yourself that it wasn’t going to rain that hard when you heeded the darker clouds in the sky.

You realized your mistakes on the walk to work when rain started pouring down from the sky, like someone dumping a bucket of rainwater all over you. You were sprinting, sight impaired by the rain pelting your face, flying past other individuals who had been smart enough to pack heavy-duty umbrellas with them.

Luckily, you finally arrived at your building before you were wet to the bone. When you noticed the elevator was still open, you called out for it, fast-walking through the lobby just so you could catch it.

“Thanks,” you had sighed out, huffing in relief.

The man who had held the elevator open for you laughed and spoke up, “I take it you forgot an umbrella too?”

You laugh at the memory, remembering being thankful that you weren’t the only dumbass who didn’t bring an umbrella—that you weren’t going to be the only one on the floor who would be showing up soaked and dripping wet.

Because Jeno was that other dumbass.

Even with this realization, with this hard evidence that your admirer could actually be Jeno, you still recount your almost-encounter with Jaemin and the fact that Jeno had denied your accusations.

You find yourself caught in a web of conflicting emotions. On one hand, the thoughtful gesture of the umbrella brings back memories of that rainy morning with Jeno. On the other hand, the recent revelation and Jeno's denial cast a shadow of doubt on the identity of your secret admirer.

As you stand there, staring at the umbrella, your brain cells are desperately trying to think up a good explanation for all of this. The evidence seems to point to Jeno, yet you can't ignore the possibility that this might be an elaborate misdirection. Or maybe Jaemin was the misdirection?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the familiar voice of Karina, who has just gotten off the elevator. She notices the umbrella in your hands and grins, "Mr. Admirer? An umbrella?"

You manage a half-smile, the weight of the situation pressing on you. "It’s a hint. There’s a memory tied to it.”

Karina arches an eyebrow, intrigued. "Memory?"

You decide to share the story of that rainy morning with Jeno, how both of you got caught in the downpour without umbrellas. As you recount the details, Karina listens attentively, connecting the dots between the past and the present.

"So, you think Jeno might be your secret admirer because of this shared memory?" she asks, thoughtful. The way her expression brightens at the thought of your admirer actually being Jeno and not Jaemin—just like you wanted.

You shrug, uncertain. "It makes sense, right? But then there's the whole denial part. He flat-out said it's not him."

Karina leans against the reception desk, crossing her arms. "He probably just didn’t want you to find out like that. Maybe he's trying to surprise you later. Who knows?"

You sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity. "I just want to know. I’m this close to banging my head against the corner of my desk."

Karina snorts and nudges you playfully. "Confront him again but this time, give him no choice but to confess."

You consider Karina's suggestion, realizing that confronting Jeno might be the only way to unravel this mystery. Gathering your resolve, you decide to have a direct conversation with him, determined to get to the bottom of your secret admirer's identity.

DECEMBER 20

Who would’ve thought that confronting your secret admirer would be nerve-wracking? Cause what if it really wasn’t Jeno and you were making a fool out of yourself?

It’s your break and you’re sitting at one of the lounge tables with Karina and Minjeong, playing with the edge of your instant ramen cup.

You’re replaying how you want the situation to go down in your head. You want to go up to him, make small talk, he small talks back, you confront him, and he admits it—easier said than done. But your goal was to do it by the end of the day, mostly because you know that if you kept this going for any longer, you’d actually go crazy.

Minjeong and Karina are talking about something, you’re not quite sure what it was when Ningning joins in, “Did Giselle pass by?”

Karina shakes her head, “Haven’t seen her.”

Ningning pouts, “I was going to ask her someth—”

And again, you tune them out—not on purpose.

The voice in your head is screaming Jeno repeatedly and it’s driving you insane. You want it to stop, but the only way you can do so is by confronting him.

Then the door opens again and in comes Jeno and Jaemin, laughing about something Donghyuck and Mark related. Karina notices the way your eyes divert toward their direction and she tries to catch your attention, jerking her head in their direction. Eyes widening, you shake your head as if you were saying not now.

“Shit, I got coffee on my shirt,” you hear Jeno huff.

From where you were sitting, you could see Jeno turning to show Jaemin the coffee stain on his white shirt, pouting. Jaemin laughs, “That’s what you get for using a broken bottle. Just buy a new one.”

Jeno pouts, “You buy one for me, then.”

At first, you don’t pay attention to their conversation, passing it off as the usual banter between the two, but then it clicks. Your mouth speaks before you can even process everything, “It’s you!”

The room grows silent but, frankly, you don’t care because now you’re sure it was Jeno.

Other than the umbrella and the memory, the only other hint other than handwriting were the water and coffee stains that the cards were always covered in (and you and Karina were still unsure whether that was on purpose or not).

Jeno’s bottle was broken.

You rise abruptly, the chair screeching against the floor. Rounding the tables, you navigate toward to get to Jeno, heart beating against your rib cage. Once he is within your reach, you snatch him by the wrist and drag him out of the lounge room and into the hallway.

“Dumbass!” you smack his shoulder, “It was you! Liar!” You weren’t angry, in fact, you were laughing, disbelief etched on your face.

Jeno looks off to the side, “I… don’t know what you’re talking about…” He’s horribly holding a smile back, cheekbones growing prominent from his attempt.

“Don’t play dumb,” you say, “The umbrella hint was enough for me to know it was you!”

Jeno unleashes his smile, physically shrinking and lowering his head as his cheeks grow hot from your statement. “I didn’t think you’d remember it that easily…”

"You've been driving me insane, you know that?" You shake your head, still processing the revelation. "I even thought it was Jaemin for a bit. All this time, it was you!"

“Did you… want it to be Jaemin?”

You shake your head, “Honestly, I was relieved it was you… no offense to Jaemin. Why didn’t you admit to it when I asked you?”

“Probably a similar reason for why you said ‘that’s a relief’ when I said it wasn’t me,” Jeno counters, slowly regaining his confidence.

You chuckle, realizing the playful banter unfolding between you and Jeno. "Good point."

He grins, "Plus, watching you try to figure it out was entertaining." There’s a mischievous glint in Jeno’s eyes as he's holding back a smile.

You cross your arms, glaring up at him, "So you enjoyed torturing me?"

Jeno panics slightly, shaking his head, "No! It’s not like I was torturing you! It was just something fun! I liked seeing your reactions!"

You playfully roll your eyes. "You're lucky I like you."

Jeno freezes, “Wait, you like me like me?”

You look at Jeno as if he just said the dumbest shit that’s ever come out of someone’s mouth. “Lee Jeno, I literally told you I was relieved it was you and you think I don’t have feelings for you?” You want to smack him again.

“Yes?”

Smack.

“Ow!” Jeno rubs his arm and frowns.

“Of course I like you!” You’re looking up at Jeno, “I was working my ass off trying to figure out who my admirer was because I had hopes that it was you!”

Jeno's eyes widen with surprise, and then a broad grin stretches across his face. "You... really?" he stammers, almost disbelieving, “So would… this be the right time to ask you on a date?”

You stuck out your bottom lip and shrug, half-joking, “I mean… it’s the least you can do after putting me through all that.”

“You’re right,” Jeno laughs. He takes a step closer, looking down at you with the world’s prettiest smile, “So will you?”

“Will I, what?” you tease, staring back up at him.

“Will you go out with me?”

taglist: @tytrackfebreze @lovesuhng @hoonieji @niinjo @dinonuguaegi @reignessance

an: the answer is yes 👀,,, Felix's is up next and it's gonna be cute

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albertasunrise · 5 months ago

Text

Hope You Can Forgive Me - Hope Preview

Masterlist

Summary: After Joel loses his wife and your best friend during childbirth. You support him as he takes on parenthood on his own at 22. But when feelings start to develop, you battle with the guilt you feel for falling for your best friend’s husband.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+… this is to avoid spoilers! (So it’s been a while for this fic but this chapter is well underway. Thought I’d give y’all a sneaky peak of what's to come ♥️ Hoping to get this chapter up this weekend... I don't really have time to proofread beyond Grammerly so sorry for any mistakes 😬)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

"How's things been with you?" Tommy asked you as he turned to face you. It was something that you had always liked about Tommy. When he was talking to you he gave you his undivided attention and never butted in when you spoke. Something that your husband and his family had always done that had driven you to distraction… But never the Miller boys. They always listened to what you had to say.

"Yeah, they're good." You nodded as you replied and placed your bottle on the table "Starting to meld well with the nice team. Making some friends too which is nice."

"Any hot men in the office catch your eye?"

Tommy's question took you by surprise and you couldn't help but glance at Joel a moment before answered. He was looking at anything but you and Tommy as they awaited your answer and you felt a small pang of hope fill you. Why, you weren't sure.

"Not really looking for anything at the moment." You said, shrugging your shoulders "Been so focused on work and the kids the last few months that I haven't really thought about what comes next."

Your eyes drifted to Noah and Ali who were talking animatedly about, you assumed, something that had happened in the books they were holding. Both of them had ended up bookworms like their dad. Something you were glad of as they had grown up. Buying them books to distract them from the reality of how sick Alec had been.

"Plus Alec hasn't been gone long. Would be wrong for me to just move on."

"You're entitled to be happy." Tommy stated plainly as he gave you that signature Miller look "He would want you to live life to the fullest. Lord knows you've earned that."

"I guess." You shrugged.

Truth be told, since coming back into the Miller's lives your feelings for Joel had started to stir again. He had turned out to be an incredible father, not that you had doubted him for a second but he had been forced to take on parenthood completely on his own when you had left. Ali's parents had died a few years after the accident leaving Joel with just Tommy for family but he had been in the army. So he had to take it all on by himself and he had flourished. Sarah was a kind, polite and caring young girl and the spitting image of her mother. Something that had made you both happy and sad. Happy that she had turned out so beautiful, but sad because there wasn't a day that went by that you didn't miss Ali. So much so that you had named your own daughter after her.

"How about you brother?" Tommy asked, taking the attention off of you "How's things been with that chick you're dating?"

"We've been on like two dates Tommy." Joel sighed but his brother shrugged.

'Still dating her." He chuckled as he took a long pull of his drink "Given her the Miller magic yet?" Joel choked on his beer as the words settled between you and your stomach sank.

He was dating?

Of course, he was dating. He was an attractive young man, why wouldn't he? Yet this information felt like a punch to the gut. You knew you had no right to feel this way about Joel seeing someone yet it was a fight to keep the tears at bay. You would later realise as you analysed your feelings over a large glass of wine at home that a small part of you had always held onto the hope that one day, you and Joel may have had your chance. That after all these years, he would realise how you felt and would return those feelings. You would later realise that that was a fool's hope.

You had broken things beyond repair with Joel all those years ago.

There was no hope for the two of you now. There was no way he felt the same way about you.

If only you knew.

Chapter Here

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #last of us #the last of us #joel miller gif #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gif #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #last of us fanfiction

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saintsbuffy · 4 months ago

Text

You’re an angel, i’m a dog.

Pairing: Lucanis/Rook Lucanis/Rook/Spite

TW: injury detail, heavy sexual references, abuse, grief, suicidal idolisation, implied non con, spite being a freak, possession, substances.

Word count: around 5000

Chapter: 2/?

2 - DEVIL LIKE ME

— Rook is injured, Lucanis tries to help.

Lucanis - Bold

Spite - Italics

We've been waiting for this haven't we.

Spites familiar voice echos in Lucanis's head, the feral creatures nails claw his mind as the shadow figure takes form beside him.

Rook tentatively approaches as Lucanis glances around the room before pulling over a large crate for him to sit on and gesturing for Rook to take the armchair opposite him. Even though the crate is slightly too small for him and a few inches shorter than the chair it manages to hold his weight and leaves him eye level with her.

She's watching him and he moves the equipment to one side, careful to pick up any glass shards as he piles tubes and viles into a corner and stacks the books clearing the space between them. His face remains a mask of ease but she can't help but notice the small bead of sweat that forms at his brow. When was the last time he had hosted a girl in his room? He couldn't remember. Come to think of it, when was the last time Lucanis had hosted anyone in his room?

Lucanis shifts in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his arms. He had always been bad at making small talk but now he felt like he'd forgotten how to speak entirely. After a moment the silence is broken by a low humming noise, some variation of a song his grandmother would sing to him many years ago. The noise fades in and out but Rook dosent react, Lucanis is the only one who can hear it.

Quiet.

The girl is studying he realises. Head cocked to one side she watches how he moves and breathes, her guard his up, her discomfort increasing and yet she dosent make a move to leave.

"So..." Rook rests her arms on the oversized chair, one knee crossed other the other, fingers tapping on the edge. "Are you going to tell me how you did that thing out there." She raises her hand and seems to be trying to project her power but all he sees is empty air.

He had felt her magic approaching of course, the thrum of power had given him plenty of warning. The spell she had encountered had taken almost a decade to perfect, he had spent countless hours working on it with his Cousin. The barrier could be locked to one room and only lasted as long as the creator was present. It was supposed to keep out any magic users that didn't possess the Dellamorte bloodline. Clearly it was faulty if Rook had gotten through. He'd have to ask Illario about that when he next saw him.

"I am not entirely sure." Lucanis takes in the way her eyes waver, she doesn't seem annoyed that the spell had managed to stuff her magic but curious, perhaps slightly hopeful? "I do not use many spells, my specialities lie more in weapons and potions. My cousin helped with this one, you might have seen him around.”

She can see that from the display on his desk to the objects that fill his room and line the shelves, a few swords hanging on rusty nails that stick out of the stone.

"Ah, the handsome one." Rook recalls, as he shoots her an unamused look. "So could you, create a spell or a potion to stop it?"

"Why would you want to stop it?" He queries watching the way her hand goes to a chain around her neck, the small opaque crystal attached to it resting just between her breasts, Lucanis moves his eyes away quickly. His gaze goes back to her face then to the wall behind her as he avoids her eye contact.

He had seen the necklace before but had never gotten a good view of it, in fact he could not recall a time he seen her without it. No bigger than a marble, the edges jagged but dull enough to not cut into her skin. Whatever it was it meant something to her. Another piece of the puzzle.

"I mean, to help control it. Like the way your daggers seem to hold power, I can't have another mission go sideways because of me." A half truth.

He does not have to look her in the eyes to know that's not exactly what she meant.

"Perhaps you should ask Emmrich about that kind of stuff, maybe he could make you some sort of object to hone your energy."

In his time here Lucanis had seen the man do incredible things with his gifts, he had even come to him for help occasionally to identify any objects found whilst out on missions.

"I don't think that would work." Her lips pull into a grimace as she continues to fiddle with the silver chain. "And besides i'm not really sure how to feel about the old man, he frightens me a bit." Rook was both equal parts unsettled and intrigued by the man and his skeletal companion.

Lucanis raises an eyebrow but lets her talk.

"Don't tell him I said that though, you two are friends right?"

She recalls the few times she had watched Lucanis enjoying himself over dinner and drinks, in the library studying whatever it was he was searching for. Out of everyone here the two men seemed to click, both quiet and strange in their own way.

"I do not know him that well." Lucanis does not have friends. He is here to complete his contract and keep his home safe, that’s all.

Misunderstanding his blunt reply as sarcasm, Rook laughs. It's muffled by a hand over her mouth.

His chest tightens, wondering what it would sound like to hear a full true laugh from her. He wanted to find out. There was no question that Rook was attractive. Her elven features mixed the human way she spoke and carried herself made most people find her off putting. She tried to make herself invisible, had spent her first weeks at the Lighthouse brushing off everyone's attempts of inclusion but Lucanis had seen the way she made their companions laugh without even trying, the way her smile lit up a room. She didn't even have to try, he couldn't stand it.

Had the room always felt this small? Of course it had he was sleeping in a dammed storage closet for gods sake.

The desire that coiled low in his stomach was not as easy to ignore now as it was when he'd first laid eyes on her. All it takes is one moment of wanting and a mirror image of Lucanis draped in shadows manifests through the table. The creature contorts and twits its body, limbs cracking into place until it's crouched beside Rook. Lucanis closes his eyes reaching deep inside to sever that tie between man and demon but it's already started to knot. The door a-jar.

Lucanis grits his teeth as Spite inspects her, but the more he tries to shut him out the more the demon takes form. His discomfort and Rook's distraction only seems to make Spite more excited as it moves from side to side head twisting like a starved animal about to feast.

I can see why you're so fascinated by her. Such a pretty little thing.

Spites hand is less than an inch away from caressing Rook's cheek, hand going, lower, lower, until it comes to rest just below where Lucanis can't see under the table. Lucanis lets out a disgruntled cough, clearing his throat then scoots his crate back from table.

Spite's eyes snap up at him, and it lets out a laugh the look of hunger fading into a feline grin.

Leave us. Do. Not. Touch her.

You can't make me.

If you're going to stay, be quiet and behave.

Spite lets out a whine and glares back at him but obeys hands up in surrender as those glowing eyes ablaze. Some days Lucanis could push him out if he really tried. It would take all his strength and then some but each day was different. Recently the active days seemed to be outweighing the quiet ones. It had taken him years to train his mind against the demon, to build up walls and keep the doors locked. But no matter how badly Lucanis wanted him gone he would always let Spite back in.

There was no one without the other, they depended on each-other for survival. He had wasted almost his entire life trying to find a cure for this curse placed upon him and had come to accept the grim fact that if he wanted to live, Spite would be along for the ride.

Fine, fine. She's all yours. I won't touch her...unless she asks us to.

Lucanis stands to his full height kicking back the crate, he moves through the shadow demon purposefully causing the the smoke to separate. As Spite's form reconstructs itself it watches him as he places two china cups onto the table, both different sizes and designs. Rook lets out a small yawn as she waits, utterly unaware of the domestic currently playing out between the demon and the man as she watches Lucanis. There's a clattering of boxes being moved and rearranged then he lights a flame under what appears to be some sort of homemade stove. After a few minutes he returns with a steaming pot and the smell of coffee fills the small room.

Rook holds out her cup for him as he pours out the dark brown liquid until it reaches the top then fills his own. Now that he's closer she can see the black power under his nails, a cluster of tiny white scars standing out in contrast against his tan skin. She wants to ask about the experiment he was doing when she had interrupted him earlier or pry more about her magic but it's late and she's exhausted. Shes beginning to ajust to the dim candle light, the subtle warmth the flames gave off as the occasional gust of cold air moved past her and the presence of the man sitting opposite her.

Sure, it was a bit awkward and she wasn't sure if he was utterly repulsed by her or just had invited her out of civility but Rook had been searching for a distraction from her restless sleep and she had found one. They didn't need to speak, to fill the silence, just being in each others presence was enough. Maybe it was the adrenaline wearing off that had made her feelings intangible but could swear she felt a strange sort of comfort when she was with him.

Instead of voicing the million questions she yearned to have answered Rook leans back in her seat against the worn velvet and lets the cup warm her hands as raises the it in a thanks then takes a sip. It's bitter and warm, not hot enough to burn but the taste leaves an unwelcome flavour on her tongue. The disgusted expression on her face forms because she can stop it. Lucanis is waiting for her reaction.

"What? No milk or sugar?" Rook's voice sounds strained as she gulps down the liquid mid sentence forcing herself to take another sip.

She'd had coffee before, at the training camp it was valued as much as gold. But that had been a watered down version, reheated and shared between large groups, whatever Lucanis had was strong and fresh. Perhaps this was another thing she'd have to adjust to.

The corner of Lucanis's mouth raises, those full lips forming an almost smile as he watches her drink before trying his own.

"I like it black." He states before refilling his cup.

Rook hides another nervous laugh and gives him in a look that says of course you do. She would not make a very good spy he thinks.

She coughs as she reaches the bottom of the cup wiping a hand over her mouth before placing it down and pushing it slightly away from her. A fake smile of gratitude plastered across her face.

"Thanks for the coffee, and the company."

Lucanis's doesn’t seem to register the comment, his gaze entirely focused on the spot just behind where she sits, eyes occasionally flicking to check that she hadn't moved then back again to not so empty space. The humming song starts again.

There an obviously tension between Rook and Lucanis but neither of them quite wants the moment to end. Lucanis had never been very good at making friends, hell, he struggled enough as it was to keep loose acquaintances. But since he would be staying here for the foreseeable future he might as well try to be civil with her. He couldn't leave now, not when he was so close to finding a cure, not when he and his cousin had a chance at freedom, not when this girl was before him could be the key to everything. Regardless of his intentions Rook had played a part in his rescue and he would be indebted to her until the contract was completed.

I think she's starting you like you. Thats a first, should we tell her what we really are?

I thought you were staying quiet.

How can I when I can hear all your thoughts. I wonder what she would say if you told her what you want to do to her-

Spite seems to forget what it was saying as the creature stops mid taunt, turning in a circle sniffing the air its hollow eyes turn from Lucanis to Rook and back again.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

Lucanis's temple is throbbing as he rubs the palm of his hand against it trying to mask the feeling with more questions. If he could keep her talking for long enough maybe he could gain back enough control for Spite to leave them.

"When you have these nightmares, what do you see. Tell me about them."

Straight to the point then. Rook thinks, it would be easy for her to lie about it but she has nothing to lose.

"You want me to help you or not?" Lucanis barks out when Rook doesn't immediately answer. He doesn't mean for his tone to come out like that, cruel and disingenuous. Every step he makes towards Rook feels like another two back into the dark.

"Sorry-" She starts only to be cut off by his raised hand.

"Stop apologising." He shuts her down. "Just start from the beginning, anything you can remember might help us to better understand your...situation. When did they start."

She should be sorry, she was a Mage who had killed tens, if not hundreds of innocent people. Even if she had been following orders, even if it had been an accident, she had killed, no man would ever mourn one less Mage in the world.

You have more blood on your hands than she does.

I take no pleasure in killing, unlike you.

It’s impolite to lie Lucanis. I know you get off on it as much as I do. Oh look you've made her cry…

Spites observation panics him for a moment but when he looks at her there's no tears present. The only evidence of sadness is a fait sheen to her pale eyes, that haunted look he had seen before in the mirror on his own face. Greif.

As Rook recalls her nightmares and the memories that interlinked them she wished, not for the first time that they had left her to die in that rubble. How was it fair that the gods got to pick and choose who gets the power of creation, of life and who gets that of death and destruction. How she longed to be able to bring her friends back from the dead, reach down upon the earth and feel the roots grow.

"I think they must have started when I was a child but I could never remember anything, only waking up to find myself screaming. The night after the first time my magic manifested there was a thunderstorm, I started dreaming about this woman, I can't recall her face but it was like she was glowing in green flame."

Lucanis's focus is wavering as he tries to hang onto each of her words, something about green flames, a wolf, the sound of thunder, demons and the veil. His time is running out. The pain was behind his eyes now, vision blurring as he blinked over and over trying to shut it out.

"Lucanis." Rooks voice brings him back for a moment. "Are you alright?"

Smells like blood.

Get out of my head.

Can't you smell it? Let us taste her, just this once.

I said, GET OUT.

But Spite was right. The metallic tang in the air was undeniable, he could smell it. A shudder of dread snapped him back into reality. He was looking at her how, really looking. Had Rook always looked this pale? Her eyes were hollow, sunken in slightly and ringed with grey. Her lips parted as she paused mid sentence.

"You are bleeding." Lucanis's voice startles her as she has a moment of confusion before the realisation sets in.

She shifts the seat back a few inches looking down at herself before placing her hand to where the black shirt was sticking to her side. When she brings it away her palm is covered with a fresh coating of blood. Her mouth forms a silent 'oh' as she places her hand back against the wet shirt and holds it in place.

Before Lucanis can stop her she stands up swaying slightly using her free hand to steady herself against the table as he rushes to her side, the crate he was sat on lets out a screech against the stone as he flys across the room towards her.

Told you I smelled blood.

"LEAVE US." He doesn't mean for those words to be voiced aloud. Lucanis's voice comes out through gritted teeth, if Rook notices him speaking to the air she doesn't react - too focused on trying not to pass out.

It's not the blood that makes Lucanis feel like he's going to throw up but what comes after. This is how Spite feeds, the demon can't touch her in its usual state but pain, death and bloodshed calls to it the way a holy man might call upon the gods. When in battle the bond between Spite and Lucanis is forged from violence, all it takes is for the first kill to commence and then two become one. Most days the demon can do little more than cause him headaches with taunts and mind games but in battle Spite can take over fully possessing him and using Lucanis's body as a vessel for violence.

He wasn't sure if Rook's injuries would be enough to let Spite in all the way there was no rule book for this kind of thing but he didn't dare send her away. Not when she was in so much pain, not when seeing her in pain caused him so much.

With one arm under hers and the one carefully hooked around her waist so not to touch the wound he guides her to the table and holds up her weight against his own until her legs secure against it, the table is low enough that when he pushes her back slightly she's able to sit on it without much strain.

"Keep pressure on the wound." He leaves her for just a moment hurrying across the room and pouring out something that look like water onto his hands then wiping them clean on his sheets.

Lucanis was not healer but had learnt survival young and patched himself up after many a battle. He had been nine the first time he'd had to fix a dislocated bone, thirteen when he learnt how to stitch his own wounds.

Rook winces as she feels the throbbing pain grow, her skin heating as sweat begins to coat her skin. She has no idea how long it’s been bleeding or when the stitches had ripped. It was as if until she saw the blood there had been no pain and now it felt like she had an arrow in her side all over again.

When Lucanis returns he's holding a pile of clean cloth and a bottle of clear liquid. "I'll need to redress the wound and clean it."

Rook continues to look down at her side fingers now slick with her own blood she acknowledges him with a faint noise that he can’t make out.

"I need you to look at me. I don't think Varric will forgive me if I let you bleed out on my table." That earns a pained laugh. "This is going hurt." He adds.

"Okay." She nods again this time meeting his eye as Lucanis hand holds her chin to look at him. Defiance lives in her eyes but she agrees to let him help her, this is a woman who does not want to be pitied or saved. He knows exactly how that feels.

Lucanis lets her go and pushes his sleeves up further until the material can't go any higher up his biceps. With little effort he rips the cloth into strips and places it onto the table beside her along with the bottle. Slowly, cautiously, he stands infront of her assessing the situation. Rook moves her body slightly so that she's turned half to the side giving him better actress to her and her hand beings to pull up the bottom of her shirt.

"Do you want me to stop, it's not too late. I can wake one of the others-"

"No it's fine." Rook cuts him off. "It really doesn't hurt that much." Her face says otherwise.

It would be easier for him to remove her top completely but the thin material leaves little to imagination, it's clear Rook wears nothing underneath. Instead Lucanis pulls a dagger from his belt and cuts away at the ruined fabric leaving only enough to cover her. The bulk of the bandages are almost completely soaked through. As he unbinds them from her ribs and throws them onto a pile on the floor Rook swears when the wound is exposed to the cold air.

We could have her right now, on this table.

"It's not as bad as I thought, but you're to need to sit still for the next part. Drink this." He holds the bottle up to her lips and lifts it so she can drink, one hand underneath to catch anything that spills.

Rook splutters and coughs as it burns the back of her throat but takes a few gulps as Lucanis lets out a loose a breath.

With the old bandages removed and blood wiped clean he can now see only three out of the eight stitches had torn open, and other than the irritated red skin around the wound there’s no sign of infection.

"That was fucking disgusting. Do me a favour and just keep talking. If I don't pass out from this, I might die if you serve me anymore beverages." Rook states, eyes closed as she lets out a low whimper whilst Lucanis begins to wipe away the blood. “And if I die.” As grits her teeth. “I will come back and fucking haunt you.”

Such dirty words for such a pretty mouth.

Don’t look at her.

Imagine the sweet sounds she would make.

"I'm not very good at talking." Lucanis confesses, undeterred by her empty threats.

He doubts very much that she would want to hear about how he'd spent almost his entire childhood being experimented on in a cage by the only maternal figure he'd never known.

"Oh i've noticed." Her eyes are wide and alert now, pupils dilating. "Seriously say anything, sing a song tell me a story, make something up. Tell me about possessed life, I bet he's here isn't he, the demon, is he here? Is he a he?"

Rook might not have been thinking clearly to start but now she’s racking her brain for everything she learnt about this man so far. Not only was she about to let an almost stranger - at best coworker, operate on her in a storage cupboard she was about to let a man possessed by a demon to do it. Other than overhearing Neve refer to the demon as 'Spite' once she had no idea if that was its name or what it even was.

Did demons even have pronouns?

"It's here, it likes the blood." If Lucanis was trying to comfort her he was failing miserably.

From the corner of his eye Lucanis can see spite crouching beneath the table, its slightly see through finger poking at the small pool of blood on the ground. Despite the finger going through the blood and stone floor Spite puts it into its mouth and pretends to lick the finger clean.

Delicious.

"Great, well there's plenty of that here. Sounds like a charming guy." Rook lets her head fall back and stares up at the ceiling as she waits for Lucanis to fishing threading the needle.

Lucanis bites down on his bottom lip as he finishes threading the needle then sterilises the wound with what smells like alcohol. He dabs at the blood with no warning and she clutches back as it stings sending shivers down her spine that make her want to kick him.

"What does it feel like?" She asks the corners of her eyes glistening but again, no tears fall.

"At first I thought my soul had been split in half. But now, it’s more like having two sets of hands instead of one, eyes in the back of my head. The power is…unimaginable."

He pulls her skin together holding the flesh with a forefinger and thumb as the needle pushes through for the first stitch. Over rooks deep breathing he swears the faint sound of thunder booms overhead.

"I have heard sories of demons that can possess men. The Grey Wardens knew a lot about dark magic. How did you come to be this way? I mean what happened to you. You weren't born like this, were you?" Rook seems to be sitting straighter now, the tonic kicking in and numbing some of the pain.

"That-Is none of your concern."

"Does it hurt?" Rook knows she should probably change subjects from the strain in his voice but when she looks up at him the answer is written all over his face.

"Yes and no." The look of agony is gone in seconds and he's back to concentrating on her wound.

His hair despite being tied back falls over his shoulder as is long enough that she feels it brush against her bare skin. She can feel his warm breath against her torso and the occasional faint tickle of his beard as he gets too close.

"Does it hurt right now?" Rook wonders looking around the room as if she would find a demon spawn hiding in the shadows, but she sees nothing.

"You don't have to worry about me. You are the one bleeding."

The second stitch is though.

"I'm bleeding all over your bedroom and you won't even tell me how you got possessed by a creepy demon, wow." Rook tries to make an exaggerated gasping sound but it's cut short as the third stitch goes though and the wind is knocked out of her. "Fucking ouch."

"You are very dramatic." He was glad she couldn't see his faint smile as he continued to work.

This was good, if she’s was coherent enough to make jokes and swear at him hopefully she wouldn’t pass out anytime soon. Lucanis makes a mental note that Rook often uses humour as cover when she's hurt.

The pain has faded to a dull ache now, Rooks body already starting to feel a bit stronger with each passing moment but her mind is still hazy. She’s trying to stay awake but all she can think about was how wants him to never stop talking. Each word keeps her tethered to this plane. That accent, she could listen to it forever.

“We are almost done.” Lucanis moves closer to her - his large body is almost completely covering hers as he leans so that he can tie the bandages around her back. He stops half way realising he can't quite reach it without the possibility of hurting her. Rook feels his hand lightly touching her shoulder indicating which way she needs to move as she swings her legs back round to give him better access.

Now Rook sits on the other side as he leans over, legs hanging over the table, back facing him. He doesn't mean to stare when he looks down at her exposed back but there's no helping it as his eyes travel from the bottom of her spine to the top of her half ripped shirt and the array of scars that covered almost every inch of skin in between. Some more faded than others, the freshest couldn't have been more than a year old. Each one thin and precise line, this had been no accident, she had either been forced to take a beating or let someone do this to her.

"Arms up." He instructs as she strains lift them with little protest but manages to keep them held in place long enough for him to loop the cloth around.

He begins to tie the fresh bandages around her, one hand laying flat across her ribs to keep them in place. The rough contrast of the tips his fingers brush against the exposed skin above her bandages. Once he's sure the bandages are tight enough he feels himself moving without thinking. Rook doesn't react as a finger traced the outline of a particularly deep bit of scar tissue that falls almost directly in the centre of her spine.

He had seen this kind of torture before, often inflicted on disobedient soldiers or deserters. It was possible to get rid of most scars and wounds with certain kinds of magic, for cosmic or personal reasons he had seen it done more than once. But some were not as easy to remove as others and perhaps she had chosen to keep them as a reminder for what had been done to her. He shouldn’t care, it was none of his business.

He could feel the demonic energy that ran in his veins drumming under his skin as he flexed his hand by his side. He was only human-ish after all.

Who did this to you? He wondered. I will make them beg for my blade. He should have no right to care. He had done that and worse to his own enemies, what made seeing it on her so different? Spite who had had been suspiciously dormant the entire time Rook had her wounds tended to was now flicking in and out of existence behind her. The demon Rook from its crouch by her side and for once the demon had nothing to say.

They were both thinking the same thing.

"These are not from battle." Lucanis states as he pulls the cut up edge of the shirt back down to cover what he can see of her side.

"No, they are not." Rook answers as she moves off the table to stand. Her cheeks have more colour to them now he notices as she refuses his help when she steadies herself. "Thank you, I think i've ruined your night enough. I should get going now."

Lucanis accepts her thanks with a nod not sure what to do now. He wants to ask her to stay. Only so he can keep an eye on her incase the wound gets worse of course. He couldn't exactly offer up his bed, a girl like her deserved to sleep on beds of silks and feathered mattresses.

In his first week at the Lighthouse he had been given a large room in the north wing with a plush four poster bed and a dozen pillows. It had felt like he was suffocating in the comfort of that bed, he had tried removing all the bedding on the second night. Placing the mattress on the floor on the third then welcoming the cool stone against his bare back on the fourth. None of it had worked. He felt like a dog without the comfort of its cage. It had been years since he'd slept on anything more comfortable than a couple of crates pushed together with a blanket over the top. Not that he slept much as it was.

As Lucanis begins to put away his things he can feel eyes on him as Rook stands as if she's waiting for him to say something. "Right, of course." Lucanis clears his throat then grabs something off his bed and passes it to her. "Get some rest if you can, i'm no healer so you should probably get somebody to look at that in the morning if you can."

Rook takes the shirt from him and begins to pull her old ruined one over her head with one hand as Lucanis turns to give her some privacy. He can feel his blood heating as the awareness that she’s half naked in his room sinks in. She places the discarded top on the pile of bloody cloth and bandages and cringes as she takes in the mess around the room. Dried blood on the floor, glass on the table, the door hanging on its hingers. After today she didn't think she would ever be able to face him again.

His cream collared shirt reaches her mid thigh, the size of it looking ridiculous on her. She was shorter than the average elf and even though Lucanis was tall for a human he only had a few inches on her but his build had made the shirt seem least thrice her normal size. When she finishes dressing Lucanis is still facing away from her - arms resting against the table as he tried not to think about what Rook might look like in his shirt. He can hear Spites perverted thoughts begin to pile up in his mind making him want to flip the table and its contents scores the room. Instead he re arranging his work and places the books back onto the table as he finishes cleaning off any trace of blood, any trace of her.

"Goodnight, Rook." Lucanis mumbles.

The way he says it sounds like goodbye. So this was it then.

"Goodnight."

Rook waits a few more seconds to see if he will turn back and then, she’s gone.

end chapter notes -

everyday i learn something new about his family and backstory (thanks twitter)

this chapter was only meant to be 3k long but i ended up writing about 6k and cutting it down a bit, their dynamic is so fun to write. anyone has information, head canons or theories about him pls share id love to hear them!

do we hate grandma or not? (i think we do)

as always @/saintscain on twitter, hope you enjoyed

#dragon age #dragon age spoilers #dragon age veilguard #veilguard spoilers #lucanis dellamorte fic #lucanis #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #rookanis #lucanis x spite x rook #lucanis fic #my work #da4 spoilers #datv spoilers #datv #dragon age: dreadwolf

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beepersteeper · 10 months ago

Text

Digits -- Astarion x Tav smut

Astarion was reading a book across camp. Nothing out of the norm. He was fidgeting with a coin aimlessly to keep his hand busy.

Tav watched completely entranced in watching the coin move so smoothly over each slender finger, being flicked into the air and caught seemingly without any attention given by Astarion. Her concentration was broken when the hand with the coin stopped and waved at her with the coin between his pointer and middle fingers. Her cheeks flushed and she sheepishly waved back mouthing “sorry. Zoned out." Across the camp. Astarion waved the thought away and continued into his studies.

Tav turned a quarter turn to face Karlach to strike up conversation to distract her from his gorgeous hands. The next day she caught herself staring again as he picked several locks throughout their adventure.

“I could teach you, if you wanted." Astarion stated right before hearing that successful click of the lock releasing “its like magic every time."

“Huh?" She says hiding her startle

“Lock picking" he states handing her a tool set “you'll get the next one" leaving his hand on hers just longer than necessary.

The party continues along their path, when they ultimately come across a locked chest and Astarion ushered Tav to kneel in front of him. He knelt behind her, pressing his body to hers guiding her hands through the motions of the task.

“You really just have to listen and feel what the lock is saying. Figure out what is a good resistance and what is a resistance that will make you start over” he says too quietly into her ear, his cold breath caressing her skin.

When the lock clicks and falls open Astarion whispers in a husky soft tone "good girl." And quickly stands trailing his fingers up her arm and across her shoulders before he walks away talking over his shoulder "there will be more for us to practice with.”

Back at camp for supper, Astarion seems to be constantly doing something with his hands. Twirling a dagger between his fingers, tapping his finger tips on the table. Running his finger over the rim of his glass and bringing the liquid to his lips to lick it off of his fingers, meeting Tav's eyes with his own.

She retired first to her tent before the others saying “I'm just awfully tired. I'll see you all in the morning." A chorus of goodnights follow her to her bedroll. She ties the flap closed and rests into her bedroll, pulling out her sketchbook. Without really thinking she sketched his hands as best she can from memory. The perfectly manicured nails, the marble smooth skin, and a few thick veins covering the back. She was finishing sketching his nimble fingers and rounded knuckles on his ring finger when she hears a voice from outside her tent

“Tav, are you awake?" Astarion whispers.

Shit she whispers to herself and tucks the notebook under her stack of books “yeah, come in." she calls to him.

He ducks to get under the knot “I was hoping you were. You ran off pretty quick from dinner, everything alright?" Sitting behind her as he usually does for his supper.

“Yeah, like I said, just tired. Those goblins really took it out of me" she half lied and I couldn't watch your fingers anymore without wanting to put them in my mouth she thought as she braided her hair off to the side opening her neck for him.

He notices the notebook to the side of the bed with a detailed image of what looks like his right hand.

He traces a finger along the vein on her neck feeling her pulse race. He grabbed her jaw tightly, leaning her head to the side to expose her flesh completely. He slid a finger under her top to open the place even more. He rested his other hand on her thigh adding pressure and squeezing slightly as he punctured her already scared skin.

She rested her hand on top of his, relishing in the tender moment she's allowed to have with him. Feeling his hands on her. He finishes and adds pressure to the wound with his tongue to stop the bleeding.

When he would usually let her chin go, he didn't. He instead put his thumb on her bottom lip slightly opening her mouth. “I've seen you staring.” He whispers. Tav's shoulders tense. “I've got to say. I've been told that almost every part of my body is desirable, but I think my hands…” he moves his hands from her, completely pulling the sketch book in front of her to see “is a first."

Tav tried to fold into herself out of embarrassment only to be stopped by his strong hand returning to her jaw holding her still facing forward. "What do you want to see these fingers do?” he purrs “I know you've thought some dirty things darling, practically undressing me with your eyes at dinner.” Before she could answer he put a finger in her mouth pressing her tongue down, opening her mouth rendering her mute. “Well if you won't answer I guess I'll just have to figure it out myself.”

He lets her close her mouth and slides two fingers in and out of her lips, making her suck on the fingers that she's watched for days. She moans, enjoying the invasion of her mouth.

“Is that what you wanted?" He asks, knowing she still can't talk “nod." She nods moving her tongue as much as she can, feeling his fingers across her hungry tongue.

He uses his free hand to loosen her pants and with her help shimmy them down her legs. He runs his nimble fingers across her thighs. Then he reaches across her body and drags his nails from her knee past her core and up her body grabbing a breast firmly causing her nipples to harden. “like putty in my… well” he laughs, pulling his fingers from her mouth letting her lick each digit before he returns the two to her tongue holding it down again, holding her jaw open.

He slid his hand down her body once more and easily inserted one, then two, then three fingers into her core. Causing her to let out warm breath and whimper from her mouth. He focuses on bringing her to climax with only his hands, the very things she's been idolizing. Arching his fingers into her hitting the spot deep inside that shoots pleasure through her core. Her breath quickens a bit and then more when he starts playing with her clit softly, barely touching her at first. And then rubbing circles into her tender flesh speeding up her breath.

Electricity shoots through her body as she arches her back and lets out a loud moan, unable to muffle her pleasure because he had locked her jaw open.

After she finished riding her high he brought his fingers out slowly, stings of her sex slightly hanging from his fingers. He brings his wet fingers to his mouth making sure she was watching him enjoy her taste cleaning every part of his skin that was covered in her sex, thoroughly and slowly keeping eye contact with her. He smiles as she watches him slack jawed. “Delicious. I'll see you tomorrow morning, do try not to stare too much darling."

#astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion smut

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loonybun · 3 months ago

Text

Meeting Aisling (CYOA) 3

hiiiii ough this took forever :( don’t feel like it’s super good but new character! yay!!! he’s normal guys i promise (fingers crossed behind my back)

contains: captivity, faerie carewhumper, dryad guy of unknown whumperee status, references to past abduction(s), fantasy whump, fantasy setting, manhandling.

—————————————————

You decide to look for anything that could help you escape— or at the very least tell you where you are. The window is the obvious thing to look at, considering it’s the only other possible way out of the room. The gaps in the vines are big enough for you to stick your hands through, but you probably couldn’t get much further.

From the holes, you can see a village beneath the structure you’re in. People. There are people here. If you made enough noise, maybe someone would come and save you.

The trees around the village are thicker than most of the houses. Massive structures that you can’t even see the tops of. Branches as big as trains.

Even if the window wasn’t obscured, it’d be too high to jump from. You’re not going to have much luck with it.

You walk over to the vanity in one of the other parts of the room. The mirror greets you with your disgruntled state, twigs and flowers sticking out of tangled hair.

The table is covered with all kinds of trinkets. Bells, flower circlets, crystals, little animals made of glass. It may have been a charming collection under different circumstances, but unfortunately you don’t have time to focus on something so small.

Besides the vanity, there’s also a desk filled to the brim with papers and books. Bottles of ink line the shelf above it. Great, the weirdo that kidnapped you is a writer. You can definitely use that to escape. Maybe threaten to set some of his manuscripts on fire or give him a bad review. That’ll show him.

You groan and go back over to the bed, flopping onto the soft mattress. Despite your amazing investigative skills, you’d somehow neglected the plate of fresh berries on the bedside table. Just looking at them makes your mouth water.

If you’re going to escape, you have to have some fuel in you, right?

As you reach out to grab one of the fruits, something snaps around your wrist and yanks it away.

“Don’t eat that.”

The roots around your arm squeeze it tightly. After you recover from the shock, you turn to face the source of the voice.

The tree.

The fucking tree.

Or what was a tree five seconds ago, at least. Of course. Why not? Magical bug men, talking trees, sure. Just throw in a dancing bear at this point.

The tree— or man, you’re not sure what to describe it as— is giving you a hard glare. It’s entirely made of wood, save for its flowering hair and a few rogue blossoms. If looks could kill, you have a feeling that they wouldn’t be able to put your corpse back together.

It slowly retracts its branches from your wrist, forming them back into a more hand-like structure.

He inspects you for a moment.

“…His standards get lower by the hour. Goodness, where did he even find you? A dog park?” The— whatever he is, scoffs.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. He wasn’t wrong, you did look like a mess, but that doesn’t mean his words don’t hurt.

He plucks a leaf from your hair and grins. “I mean, this is just sad. And I thought the last one was bad… No, you take the cake. Anyways, how long were you planning on staying here? Come up with any daring escape plans yet? Please, do tell.”

Even if you had, telling this thing seemed like a bad idea. He definitely doesn’t have your best interests in mind.

“What?” The man(?) frowns. “Too harsh? Alright, fine. I should have just started with names. Have you given yours to him yet?”

You shake your head.

“Good. Don’t. Anyways, since you won’t have much of a use for it anyways, mine is Oleander. You don’t have to give me yours if you don’t want to. I’d like to keep this interaction as quick as possible. Feel free to ask questions though. Better to hear it than learn from experience in this case.”

Well, you sure had a lot of questions. Why are you here? Where is here? What is he? What snatched you away to begin with?

“Ohh, you’re one of the panicky ones. Alright, well, for starters, you’re in a tree. Or a palace. Whatever you’d like to imagine it as, honestly. I don’t know the exact reason you were brought here, but I have a few guesses. Let’s just say none of them are situations anyone would want to be in.” He keeps up with your rapid-fire, only taking a moment in between questions.

“I’m what’s called a dryad. Essentially, a plant with a consciousness and a body created by magic— You do know what magic is, right? Yes? Alright, that saves some explaining. I don’t really want to get into detail about what a faerie is, but that’s what the other man was. Anyways, I’ll be brief, I don’t want you here, and I’m assuming you don’t want to be here either, right?”

You nod.

“Good. That saves me some trouble. I’m going to help you escape. Now, he’s probably going to be back within the next ten or so minutes. You’re not going to mention me to him, understand? He doesn’t know I exist, and I want to keep it that way.”

After you give another nod, he sighs in relief. You watch as Oleander moves back towards the center of the room, his wood skin slowly morphing, bending, and reshaping until you’re left “alone” again.

Your chest feels lighter. There’s still a chance to escape. While you’re still not entirely sure you can trust your new companion, he’s still a failsafe if you can’t find another way out of here.

Just a few minutes later, the door swings open and a familiar person enters the room.

Person? Was that right?

Ai smiles at you, slit pupils you hadn’t noticed previously practically glistening when he spots you at the far end of the room.

“Oh— Hi! You’re awake now? Is everything alright? You look a little shaken up…” He flutters over to you.

Flutters. Right. Wings.

You can’t help but stare. Whatever you’d met in the woods hardly resembled him now. The fae in front of you dawned a long, fairly intricate cloak. His skin— or fur, it’s honestly hard to tell, is a soft pink. He’s not unpleasant looking in any sense, just… Unusual. If it weren’t for the sharp teeth, he’d almost look approachable.

He’s acting like he’s actually concerned about you. Like he didn’t just take you to an entire new dimension. Like there’s any other reason that you’d be upset. You just continue to stare, unable to create a response with the knot in your throat.

Ai sets a hand on your shoulder reassuringly. “Upset? That’s okay. I know it’s a lot for you to take in. I hope you don’t feel like I was trying to deceive you before in the woods… I just thought you seemed interesting! I wanted to get to know you a bit before… Well, before all of this. I didn’t mean to rush you.” You’re hardly paying attention to what he’s saying. He kidnapped you. Of course you’re upset!

“You probably feel scared, don’t you? I… I want to say that I won’t hurt you. Those aren’t my intentions with you. Why don’t we get to know each other a bit better? I want to understand you, and I want you to be able to understand me, too. I know this isn’t the best first impression… But I really didn’t want to have to mess with your memories again. I want to do it right this time.”

This is insane. You can’t read him. What does he want from you? He said he doesn’t want to hurt you, but none of his actions so far have even slightly supported that. He abducted you. He chased you through the fucking woods. What other reason could he possibly have for keeping you here?

“Go ahead, ask me anything.”

taglist: @whumpy-wyrms @inkwell-and-dagger @lordcatwich @kawaii-cakes @enigmawriteswhump (let me know if you want to be added!!!)

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fuzybby · 1 year ago

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Punishment

Gale x F!Reader

Synopsis: You haven't been doing the best in your classes, and Mr. Dekarios needs a better way to punish you.

CW: spanking, fingering(?), no penetrative sex, Gale is a Professor, student and teacher relationship! (not healthy in real life but this is fiction)

1.4k words, enjoy!

The sun peaking through the window is what woke me up from slumber. The bright rays felt warm against my face, and I instinctively tried to swat them away.

Fuck.

Another day of class. Not that the class is horrible, it's actually quite thrilling learning of the adventures from my Professor, the problem is how hot my Professor is.

Professor Dekarios. The man that he is. He keeps his hair in a half bun everyday. His beard is scruffy and I wonder what it would feel like against my neck, my chest, in between my thighs..

I can feel the wetness between my legs already. Another day where I go to class soaking wet for my teacher. The teacher.

If my friends had known I had the hots for him, they'd never let me live it down. Or, they'd agree to also wanting to fuck him, but I doubt that's the case. Many people don't actually enjoy Professor Dekarios's class, they say he rambles too much. The study of Arcana can be difficult at times, especially when the teacher is watching your every move with his sultry brown eyes..

Stop thinking!

I groan and finally get out of bed, rubbing the bridge of my nose with my pointer finger and thumb as I try to calm myself down. There's no need to work myself up before every class thinking of him.

I dress and eat, going about my morning routine as if I'm not insanely horny, before finally grabbing my books and making my way to The Study of Magic building on campus.

I find my regular seat, not right in front but not right in the middle of the rows. The closer to the front, the closer I am to the writing on the chalkboard so I can take notes. That part is real, I need to get better at focusing for class, because as of right now, my assignments I have been handing in are only getting average marks in return.

Class ticks on and on, and I study my Professor's movements methodically. His teaching robes are dark with stripes of red going down on his shoulders. They reach the floor, which leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. He wore his glasses today, round lenses that don't sit on his nose well, making him constantly have to push the glasses up higher on his face. His hair is messy, small grey streaks sneak into his brown locks. He is so handsome.

At the end of class, when all is dismissed, I haven't taken any notes. All I've done is watch Professor Dekarios's hands as he swung them around, his lips as he spoke, his eyes as he went through the emotions of telling his story.

Everyone in the class packs up their books in their bags, chatting freely as they leave their seats to leave. I'm slower packing up, waiting for people to leave the row first before I start shoving my books into my own bag.

I look up to find Professor Dekarios's gaze on me, I can't tell the emotion in his eyes. He makes a ‘come here' motion with his finger, to which my heart rate spikes. Am I in trouble? I think to myself.

I finish packing quickly and make my way over to him and his desk, every other classmate now out of the room.

“We need to talk.” He says with a sigh, leaning against the front of his desk and crossing his arms.

“I have threatened suspension, called your parents, I have given you so much time and leeway for you to finish assignments, and yet you refuse to get your act together.” He continues, taking off his glasses and setting them down on his desk.

“I'm sorry, I-” I try to say, trying to come up with some sort of excuse that isn't ‘all I think about is you. you're the cause of my bad grades.’

“I am running out of appropriate punishments. At this point, I'll need to spank you like a child to get my point across.” He spits out. His face has contorted to anger.

I open my mouth to speak and nothing comes out, I'm at a loss for words. Spanking? Does he mean that? My face feels hot, and I try to forget the constant throbbing that comes from my clit.

“Maybe you should then.” Is what I say. I meet his eyes to convey my seriousness. “Spank me, I mean.”

He raises an eyebrow, his jaw clenched as he looks at me.

“Fine. Set your bag down, and bend over the desk.”

I stand frozen for a minute, realising that this is happening. He moves slightly to give me more room on the desk, his anger still evident.

I slowly set my bag down on the floor and stepped up to the desk, leaning over it slightly. Placing my hands to lay flat against the mahogany. I hear my Professor before I feel him, he stands behind me and quickly lands a sharp slap to my behind. I gasp and lean forwards more, my elbows now against the table.

The sting from his hand hit me hard, even though my clothes were still on, the roughness of his hands were evident.

“Mr. Dekarios!-” I gasp out, to which he replies “Call me Gale.”

“Gale” I breathe his name. It feels good against my tongue, comfortable.

He hits me again, on the other cheek this time. I crumble forwards again, my chest hitting the desk now as I'm fully bent over. My nails claw against the wood, and my breathing becomes ragged.

“Have you learnt your lesson yet?” Gale asks me, his hand comes to lay on my ass gently, hoping to bring some sort of comfort to the situation. He presses his crotch against me, and I can feel how hard he is. I whine out a quiet “yes” as I try to push myself against him.

The friction, for even just half a second, feels so good it makes me want to cry. I've wanted this for so long, I could probably cum from just the friction.

His hand on my ass moves to cup my cunt, bringing a whimper out of me. “Please” I beg, trying to move my hips against his hand.

“Can I take these off?” He asks, his other hand moving to snap the waistband of my trousers against my skin. I nod quickly, spewing more “please”s.

Gale takes them off quickly, only pushing them down to wrap around my ankles, his fingers coming back up to my uncovered folds. spreading them open with his thumbs, my slick already coating his digits.

“How long have you been wet for?” He breathes.

“All day.”

He groans. A gutteral sound that sends shivers down my spine as his fingers move again, this time to prod at my clit. Flicking it back and forth agonisingly slowly. His other hand moves to press against my lower back, keeping me grounded against the table.

A very gentle slap is sent to my cunt, the sound of flesh slapping against wetness filled the air for only a second. I whine again, biting my lip to stop the tears that threaten to spill. I have wanted him to touch me for so long, and how here he is, teasing me as I wriggle in his grasp.

He moves back to flick my clit again, this time harder and faster. Every once in a while circling it. My hips back on their own trying to get more pleasure, more friction from him.

It doesn't take long for me to scream out that I'm cumming. My body feels on fire as ecstasy courses through my veins. My legs shake from the pleasure as Gale tuts at me. My mouth opens in a silent scream as I try to control my emotions, tears have spilled from my eyes and landed onto the desk. Remnants of the filthy things we have done.

Gale removes his hand and pulls my pants back up, tapping my ass again gently.

I turn around on wobbly legs and try to move his robes up to get to him, but he grabs my wrists and stops me in my tracks. He smirks devilishly, his next words make my legs threaten to collapse even more than before.

“Only good girls who pay attention in class get my cock.”

Before long he's sending me on my way, not even a kiss on the lips goodbye. By the time I make it back to my dorm room I'm collapsing on the bed with a squeal. I will definitely be paying better attention now.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate iii #gale smut #bg3 smut #gale x reader smut #gale x reader #bg3 gale #gale dekarious smut

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thelaughtercafe · 1 year ago

Text

Lightened Darkness

Tea Type: Subtly Sweet Tea (Fluff with a bit of Hurt & Comfort)

Potential Triggers: Brief mentions of being scared of the dark in this fic, magic used for tickling

Pairing: Alucard x F!Reader

Length: 2k+

Summary: You've learned how to cope with your fear alone, but your new Vampiric friend won't let you suffer alone any longer.

Alucard couldn’t help his fondness whenever he heard you laugh. It warmed his heart to hear it despite the darkness your traveling together entailed. There were rarely moments of light allowed in given the job you all took on, but he supposed if any ought to make him feel it, it seemed fitting it would be the girl given the Dreamer moniker in the legend.

There was a naivete to you, that was both endearing and oftentimes frustrating, but he saw passion too. The spats you’d get into with Belmont were proof of that; so insistent were you on the fact that Dracula could be stopped without lethality.

He had, for the first and likely last time, sided with Trevor on the matter verbally, but your eyes pierced him knowingly and he knew you were aware he wanted you to be right.

But where had words gotten him last time? That along with your true title, one considerably less kind than your current made him frown.

He forced such thoughts from his mind and changed his direction.

It was still incredibly early in your journey; and yet he found peace here of all places, within the Belmont library. A place that spoke to the hatred held to Vampires. It was easier when he wasn’t looking at the badges of death displayed like trophies in that damnable glass case.

At least he was warm, thanks to the candles and his large trench coat.

He noticed you from the corner of his gaze as he thumbed through a book, and could sense the blood rushing to your cheeks. You were shivering.

He didn’t turn as he called to you.

“Cold? Belm-mmngh!”

He found himself cut off as you rushed over to cover his mouth making him look down at you, but you were looking behind you conspiratorially.

“Shh! Over here!”

You whispered and then he allowed himself to be dragged to the back of the large library. As you realized you still had a hold on him you went red and released him, making a smirk quirk at the edges of his lips.

“I take it Belmont’s sleeping then?”

You shook your head.

“Actually…he’s wide awake. But he and Sepha were ah…you can’t tell them I told you but they were cuddling. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

You were whispering again and Alucard laughed openly at your conspiratory tone, eyes twinkling.

“Oh, is that all? I had a feeling they were growing closer but I never expected them to move quite so fast.”

You trembled again and he abruptly strode forward, tugging you easily into his grip and sinking to the ground, holding you against him. Your blood rose to your ears as you squealed and he snickered again.

Ah, you really were so easily flustered.

“You are cold. If Belmont and Sepha are sleeping; you should as well.”

“It’s not coldness, actually.”

Your voice had risen a little, but it was still quiet, this time out of vulnerability. He could gather as much from your tone.

“Oh? Then why do you shake so?”

“I’m…scared. Of the dark.”

His eyes widened and his heart clenched as you turned your head and looked up at him, smiling weakly.

“You learn quickly in this world. Darkness means death. Fear. Pain. Every time I close my eyes, the darkness there frightens me most of all. ”

His eyes turned determined and as you went to look away and rise to your feet, his hand tightened around your waist and his eyes glowed in the dimly lit corner.

“Not me. I thrive in this darkness. It is my home just as the light is for you. I shall keep you safe. None know it better than I. I will ensure it is no different than the day for you, no matter how long it takes. You have my word.”

“A-Alucard-”

A sinister-looking smirk spread across his lips then and you quickly found him pinning your arms over your head with one hand before it was stuck there with shadow.

“Darkness can be used for amusements, I’ll have you know. Perhaps ‘tis better if I show you.”

He looked…downright ethereal. Shadows danced around his hands and fingertips like an eager pet and you squirmed, no fear just…anticipation and shyness under his domineering gaze.

“What are you going to-ahh!”

You jerked as with a flick of his index and middle finger, the shadows darted underneath your shirt. You weren’t sure what you expected them to feel like; but this certainly wasn’t it.

They tickled.

Like feathers against your skin, but worse as they tingled with magic, ensuring the sensation lasted even after the magic moved.

“Adri-nhahaha!”

You snorted as the Dhampir growled low in his throat and leaned down to nuzzle into your neck, nibbling playfully with his fangs.

Most would surely be terrified at the thought of a Vampire having fangs near their neck, half or no but you were more concerned with keeping yourself quiet.

“You’re asking for it now. My name is Alucard. No need to act up to make me be mean; I’m more than happy to oblige.”

You bit your lip hard as you tried to deny him your laughter but he didn’t like that, allowing his fingers to join the fray as he scribbled at your ribs.

“Alucard plhehehehease! This truly isn’t necessary! I’m not scared anymore I swehehehear!”

He smiled in amusement, cooing as his fingers traced idle shapes into your exposed midsection, the shadows along your skin easily having risen the fabric. They slowed too, now skating around your neck like a cat and playing between your fingers as they had Alucard. Even that tickled enough to make you giggle but it was quieter.

“Are you sure? Your heart beating a mile a minute and all the blood in your face and ears tells me otherwise~I hope you didn’t lie to me, my dear. I’d have to punish you and I can be quite…ruthless when I wish it.”

His voice was teasing but you were speaking before you could think better of it.

“No please!! I just like it that’s ahahahall!”

No sooner had the words left your lips did, even more, blood rush to your head and you hid it as best you could in your upraised arm, absolutely mortified.

Though you couldn’t see it, Alucard looked confused at your embarrassment before a fond if mocking smile came to his lips, calling his shadows back a moment as he grew serious. They circled around him, but he was unaffected at their touch.

“Love, look at me a moment, won’t you?”

You resolutely shook your head, too ashamed to even think of such a thing and heard him sigh dramatically.

“Very well then.”

You jumped in place as his fingers danced along your neck, squealing as you quickly turned your head, accidentally trapping his hand.

When you didn’t release it, he smirked a bit.

“Better. May I have my hand back?”

“Y-You’re just gonna…d-do that again.”

You grumbled in embarrassment and his smirk widened a little.

“Mm. Like this you mean?”

His tone was innocent but you gasped as his fingers moved slightly against your neck, rushing to release him as you giggled.

“Good girl.”

Your heart leapt at the nickname and he couldn’t help the quiet laugh of his own as he heard it. He gently made you look at him, fingers holding you still so you’d maintain eye contact.

“Darling, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of. It’s adorable that such an innocent pastime brings you pleasure and joy. Your submissive nature, I confess, brings out more dominant parts of me as well.”

He saw the hesitant confusion in your eyes and knew what had you bewildered. He leaned down to hum into your ear, paying no mind as you squeaked and giggled again from the feeling of his breath and lips tickling you.

“Vampires can smell arousal. I am no different. Yours is particularly sweet to me and I confess I crave its scent more often than I care to admit.”

“Alucard. If you make me blush any darker I think I’m gonna spontaneously combust.”

Your whine made the dhampir throw his head back in open mirth and you couldn’t resist raising your head to witness the one-of-a-kind sight, warmth filling your heart just as much as your cheeks.

He was most beautiful this way you decided. Not conventionally; hair in his eyes, holding his sides as if to hold himself together, but it was a life he deserved. Something was taken from him just as much as the other Human victims in the wake of Dracula’s revenge and Lisa’s death.

“Come now, we are both adults! I find it endearing, I promise. Your secret is safe with me, I won’t let Trevor or Sepha-”

“Little late for that, I’m afraid.”

You groaned in embarrassment as you peeked behind Alucard to see Trevor smirking in amusement.

Alucard hissed, a protective glint in his eyes.

“Watch yourself, Belmont.”

The hunter sighed, rolling his eyes as he shook the hand holding the flask in his hands.

“I just needed to refill my flask, alright? With water, before you get any ideas.”

His eyes softened as he shifted his gaze to you, where you hesitantly tried to maintain eye contact.

“He is right, you know. Nothing to be ashamed of. And as for the darkness-”

“Just how long were you listening?!”

You gaped at him, eyes wide and he snickered.

“I heard the beginning and the end, little else. I tried to take my time to let you have your little…moment. In any case; Alucard may be able to provide protection in the dark, but I shall offer it in the light. I know firsthand the fear the darkness brings which comes from one’s own mind and memories. If you have need of someone to talk to, I shall at the very least, listen. I’ve been told… I’m not the best at comforting words, but I can at least do that, and make you feel safer than you would if left in solitude.”

You nodded, a bit dumbstruck at his kindness. He’d always intimidated you a little with his bluntness and sharp tongue but this was sweet. It seems the night softened all of you.

“Thank you, Trevor. I’ll keep that in mind. Perhaps you’re better at comforting than you think.”

He smirked at that and turned to return to Sepha, pausing as Alucard spoke up.

“In return for your kindness, I’ll keep your moment of gentleness a secret as well, Belmont. Can’t have the whole town we’re going to know you’re going soft, yes?”

The quip was softer than usual as Trevor snickered.

“And I’ll do the same for you. The famed Sleeping Soldier, comforting the Dreamer in the dark. Heh. Sleep well, we leave early tomorrow.”

You sighed in relief as his footsteps faded, groaning as you pouted at Alucard.

“I cannot believe he heard me. He was being kind but he definitely overheard my laughter. Ugh. Next time you’ll have to gag me.”

“Oh? Next time hm?”

You rolled your eyes fondly as the shadows around your hands receded to Alucard, nuzzling against him affectionately before they faded entirely.

You brought your wrists down and giggled nervously as you shoved hair behind your ear.

“I mean only if you wanted to of course but if you don’t-”

A smirk tugged at your lips.

"-I mean maybe I could go to Trevor since he knows now.“

Alucard’s eyes darkened possessively at that as he hissed.

"You’re not humorous. Only I have earned such a privilege. Besides, he’s probably not half as skilled as I am.”

The pride in his voice made you smile as you pulled him to lean against the books with you and promptly snuggled into him. He adjusted after a moment of freezing, moving you away only to raise his large trench coat to cover you.

“I’m sure you’re right. Well, lucky for you I’m attracted to one Dhampir and one only.”

You yawned and felt him chuckle as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“Good thing I’m only attracted to one silly Human. Rest now. I’ll be here.”

He would never allow you to be made into a Martyr. Not while he and the shadow itself still breathed.

#tlc: tickle fics #tlc: subtly sweet tea #castlevania #castlevania tickle fic #alucard x reader #adrien tepes x reader #alucard x you #adrien tepes x you #tickling #tickle fic #female reader #ler!adrien #ler!alucard #lee!reader #tw nsft

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years ago

Text

There once was a witch.

Yandere Candy Folk + G.N Sweets Witch Reader Teaser

An: A taste of what was meant to be a blurb, but became more. Hope it peaks your interest and I'd love to hear theories on where you might think the plot will go

There once was a witch.

The first of her kind.

"A candy witch? What a ridiculous idea!" She was quick to disagree.

"It is my magic. If I can't do for me first, I haven't the heart nor time to do a thing for others."

Her mother had been the town doctor with her healing magic, and her mother's mother nurtured the barren lands they founded their village upon. Her mentors encouraged her spirit - cautioning to keep her roots close to heart. The young witch had not a care for their warnings nor the people around her. Her goals and ambitions were met much closer to home right - in the pit of her stomach. The girl found even great tragedy could become the sweetest delight with the right confectionery. A spoonful of sugar a day kept most of her troubles away. Outside of home, she was mocked and ridiculed for her dreams. How selfish and cruel was she to use her birthrights for her own agenda. Without her, the town would be left unprotected. As the day of her ascension to power drew near, the kind eyes and faces around her turned scornful. The witch wore a brave face, but she did not have the same guise to protect her behind closed doors. She cried through every spoonful.

Had it not been for that one person, she would've given up on everything.

"My birthday is the day after your coronation. If you do become a sweets witch like you say, would you make the cake?"

That person gave her a tooth ache no amount of her mother's magic could cure. Everything she ate hours after their meeting tasted bland and bitter. Nothing in her entire pantry could be sweeter than that smile. They were the child of the town baker who saved a loaf of sweet bread for her every week, and her first and only friend. Against her own word, she acted from the kindest of her heart and did as they pleaded. The cake was an extravagant piece; nearly twice the size of banquet table it stood upon and tiered with every flavor she could think of. The light in their eyes was brighter than the flames all six dozen chocolate candies held. The witch's fingers were in her mouth more than her fork as she had to make sure her teeth had rotted and fallen out. Her family had always given her praise, but that silent display of gratitude and wonder opened her heart. She wanted to see that expression more - on their face and beyond. She would come a witch for the mass, like every witch in her family before her.

The newly appointed candy witch became an apprentice not at her mother's clinic, but the baker's kitchen. The two youths were inseparable with the time they spent as one. They swore to run the shop together when the mantle was passed down. Balancing magic and her culinary skills, the witch uncovered numerous feats in her time. In doing so, she learned she had the influence from any element of craft - so long as they were baked into her treats. She infused healing magic into her scones, created truffles that turned hair the same color as their filling. She built a house for her and her friend to live made out of gingerbread and sugar glass. Everyone was happy.

Too happy.

The town's people demanded more than she had already gave. They wanted sweets that could increase their wealth or assure their hand in marriage. The witch began to double back on her old beliefs. Being wed was a necessity as food and shelter were. She hadn't confessed to her true love yet either - so why should others get what she hadn't the guts to? They grew angry, she locked herself away in her home - unaware that her sweet friend was the new outlet for their fury. They ran the store and stocked it's shelves with her treats all by themselves; returning home with a smile and hidden wrists. The witch knew something was off, but she never bothered to ask as their smile was still as sweet as it was the day they met. She never questioned a thing - until it was too late.

Left all alone in a place that reminds her of what she lost at every turn, and people so uncaring of her grief and pain - the witch went mad. These savages acted as if they cared, reassuring her her love would return while holding out a hand for their reward. Selfish. Greedy. Demanding... Murders. If they hadn't asked for so much, her friend never would have tried to become a witch on their own to help their community. A task proved too taxing on their untrained body. The witch could not help those deep in the hell of their own making. She still longed to make others happy, but her talents were wasted on these dreaded husks known as humans. She would create her own town - with people made of the treats of her youth. They would never take her for granted and they would never die - the only securities she needed. The witch would clear out the entire town and make room for her and her candy companions were they would love the rest of their days in eternal peace. What the witch didn't know...

Was that they'd betray her worst of all.

The bell chimes above a confection shop's door. Wiping sweat from their brow with their forearm, a figure curses beneath their breath; hunched over a lit stove.

"Shoot..... Just a minute!"

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere blurb

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tumblingdownthefoxden · 16 days ago

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"The Assistant and The Star"

Chapter 12: Caterpillar Goo

Bazeema opened the door to let her friends into her lady lair. “Woah! So this is where you sneak off to during Ceremonies.” Asha gawked at the custom decorations.

“Not enough to have access to a private garden? You needed another large space all to yourself?” Gabo teased with a smile.

“I need sanctuary from mosquitos.” She said as she shut the door.

Altan arose from a pile of cushions with a yawn and waved to them.

“YOU!!” Gabo dashed onto the couch and grabbed Altan by the coat. “You absolute maniac! Do you have any idea of the situation you just put us in!” Altan stared with wide eyes and lilac hair before turning into a tortoise, retracting their head.

“You turn back into a human this instan- Aaak” Gabo gagged as Altan shot a spray of stardust into his mouth. Gabo coughed and wiped the last of the stardust from his tongue. “That is the last time that we are leaving you alone with Simon.”

“But he will be safe here.” Bazeema said.

“No! He’s not safe anywhere! There’s no way we can continue the operation! Everyone will be on the lookout for them! Or us.”

Altan shifted back and clutched onto the cushions.

“So what do we do with Altan? I don’t think we can keep them down here forever.” Dahlia pondered.

“I could keep them in my home and the forest. Our operation never extended past the city so none of the lone houses or the Hamlet could recognize their disguise!”

“But they will recognize their unfamiliarity.” Gabo countered. “Word about the Traitor of Rosas combined with someone with very yellow hair will not end end well. You'd have to keep them in your house.” He peered at the star. “Probably stop using magic entirely.”

Altan frowned and shook their head. “Please, Altan. Just stay in that body, no magic exercise, and walk everywhere with a head cover. You will pass as any other human.” Asha assured.

Altan shook their head again, hair a blood orange. Telling a star to not use magic is like telling a sparrow not to chirp.

“Come on, Altan!” She pressured. “You can use magic at night. We can still finish my wish but we need to keep you safe from Magnifico first. Please? For me?”

Valentino hopped behind Altan and nudged their back with a stern bah. This wasn't the time to be stubborn. Altan breathed in and out of their nose with their hair turning yellow. “Fine.” Altan signed.

“Yes!”

It was dusk and Altan stayed in Asha's bag in his plush form until she got home. The last magic act for the day. Asha explained the situation to her family and would leave Altan in their care while she works. They were on board but there was a new ground rule. Altan needs to stay inside once the sun sets. It would seem weird if someone passing by saw them lying on the roof. It was harder to get Altan on board with that because he wanted the chance to talk to Evangeline and that couldn't happen if he was indoors.

The next morning, Asha hurried through her routine upon oversleeping. Sakina stood in the kitchen rinsing a few fruits as Asha dressed up Valentino for the day. “Don't forget this. Can't let you get sick like last time.” Sakina handed her a small basket with a few plums and grapes and a chunk of bread.

“Oh, thank you.” Asha took the basket and peered over to Altan as he laid asleep on the couch shrouded in a quilt.

“Are you sure you're able to look after them?”

“We’ll be fine Asha. I got a water bucket in case he gets too wild.” Sakina chuckled, glancing at Altan turning over.

Asha hugged her goodbye and sprinted out the door with Valentino.

It has only been 30 minutes since arriving at the castle and Asha had gone up and down the stairway bringing crates upon crates full of glass bottles into the Hollow. If that wasn't draining enough, she was now in the royal garden digging through the dirt. Magnifico had given her 3 sacks and told her to fill them up with live bugs.

Valentino went around the garden taking any beetle he saw into his mouth and dropping them into a bag. He went around a bush to find Bazeema replanting a tree sprout that was in a boot. “Oh hello Val. How are you doing today? Is Asha with you?”

Mouth full of caterpillars, Valentino nodded in greeting and walked back. Bazeema finished with her plant and followed him to where Asha knelt down on the floor with a bag of insects. She joined in on the bug collection.

“Lucky for you, there is a wasp nest we were trying to remove and these bags seem thick enough to hold them.” Bazeema said, tying up one bag “So why does the king need you to collect bugs?”

“I wish I knew.” Asha sighed as she scooped up 4 beetles and dropped them in the bag.

“Want to ask him?”

“Yeah, but I might not. ‘Why a sorcerer needs what a sorcerer needs is not your concern.’ At least that’s what Amaya told me on my first day.”

Asha found 3 centipedes and placed them in the bag. “If anything, this could be related to the next Wish ceremony.”

“Or finding the traitor?” Bazeema suggested.

“I pray it's not.”

The mid-day sun beamed down on the girls as they finally filled up all of the bags. Asha made her way up the castle stairs. Once down into the Hollow, she gently laid the bags on the floor and sat down against the wall. Before her was the black cauldron filled with a honey orange brew. She was too tired to ask what their objective was. She peered at Magnifico as he concentrated on a spell book. “Sir, is it alright with you if I took a break now please. I can’t feel my arms.”

“A break? Sure, go ahead.” Magnifico kept his eyes glued to what looked like an ancient grimoire. Taking her leave, she walked back up the stairs. It’s nice to lay down on the tile floor of the study.

Magnifico took one of the bags and walked to the cauldron. “Are you sure this plan will work?” He asked.

The camera switched to show the right side of his face with a green eye. “We’ve barely begun and you're doubting me?” Madok asked with Magnifico's voice.

The camera switches to his left side with a blue eye. “Well. Bugs aren’t really sufficient payment for a trapping spell, especially on a celestial power.”

“This is to weaken the star. We'll make something more potent to keep them captive later. For now, bugs will suffice.” He turned his head to the counter where the book stood open to a potion page.

“And when can you make the capture happen.”

“So much anxiety.” Madok teased. “I promised to teach you everything about stars. To give you back control. Sit back, fair one. We get there when we get there.” He turned the bag upside down over the cauldron and pulled off the binding string. Hundreds of bugs were released and screamed as they fell into the sizzling pot.

They mixed the elixir with a stick and it turned from orange to a deep purple. They gave a dark chuckle. “Perfect.”

“Now. To be sure it works...” They held up one hand. “This might sting.” Madok shoved his hand into the cauldron. Magnifico’s eye twitched and he retreated his hand with a shout, buckled down in pain. He looked at his hand, now black and blistered. “What was the purpose of that!?” Magnifico demanded, eyes now blue.

“It should do something worse to a star. Should give a regular human a rash. The best way to decipher who is what.” Madok lightly scratched his hand and looked to the tower of glass bottles. “We should have them caught by next week.”

Once all of the bottles were filled, Asha was called and brought crates of potions to the guards to be laid at the castle stage. An assembly was called soon after.

Asha and Amaya stood on either side of a blue-eyed Magnifico who watched the people gather with gloves on.

“Good day, Rosas. I hope that you are in fair spirits. There have been no reports of the traitor but I can sense the growing anxiety in the city.” The crowd mumbled to each other. “So I have taken it upon myself to provide you with arms to find and apprehend the traitor should you have a first-hand encounter with them.”

He held out his hand to his assistant. Asha handed Magnifico a potion bottle and he held it up to them. “This is an elixir that will not only expose this traitor in any disguise, but will weaken their power for several hours. I commend you all to carry one bottle on you and use it when you see fit. Apply it directly to the skin. If it causes a rash, they are innocent.”

The guards on stage called for the crowd to line up before the stage. They handed one bottle to each person before them and continued on until all of the potions were gone.

“And know this. To ensure that this traitor can’t try to run, I will be sending scouts to routinely search the forest and placing more knights around the city and on the docks to keep an eye out for them. Be not afraid of any threat that this traitor could pose. I will leave no place for them to hide. This assembly is dismissed.”

He turned to Asha to hand her bottle back and ask if she has the energy for another supply run as the Hollow storage was freshly depleted. She asked if she could do the run tomorrow as she was still exhausted from today.

As they spoke and the crowd dispersed, two people stood at the front of the stage fairly puzzled.

One of them being Sania Osman.

“So this is going to protect us and our wishes?” She asked a man before her.

“I get to give us a defense but this is an awfully large amount of work to capture one person.”

“Or three. I hear criminals work best in groups.”

“That’s true. But more guards to watch our every move?”

“And why is he bothered by someone granting wishes faster than him?” Sania asked.

“That’s what I’m wondering!” He exclaimed. “And now that I think about it, it's been over a year since I gave him my wish! Where is it!”

“Did you meet the rogue?”

“I hope I do before he catches him. Is their advice as good as they say?” He hardly whispered. Sania nodded.

They spoke loud enough for the King to overhear and become curious. Magnifico excused himself from Asha and turned his attention to their conversation. He walked before them on the stage.

“So do we still need Magnifico?”

Sania barked a laugh. “Magnifico Smagnifico! I could do his job with enough money.” Face unreadable, Magnifico slowly blinked, eyes now green.

At this point, the man noticed his stare and lost his smugness. “Uhh, Sany, maybe we should leave.”

“Oh don’t chicken out on me now love. What’s the King gonna do to us. He doesn’t have the guts to imprison his own people.” Magnifico tilted his head and pointed his staff at her, the head glowing green.

“Sania!” He urged, signaling her to shut up.

Sania rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, he's right behind me. I’m not gonna turn around. And again, what’s the worst he can d-” A large green hand grabbed her body. One finger covering her mouth and pulling above the stage, turning her to face the green eyed king.

“The worst I can do?” He asked. “Well I never considered it. Maybe you can help me. You do have a point, I don't like to use imprisonment.” Sania stared back with wide eyes.

“Leaving you in a dungeon with starving rats is underwhelming. But ants are fun. I’ve read about people being tied to trees and left to the mercy of venomous ants. Ants will bite if not sting at anything that isn't their fellow ant. If attacks from one ant is painful, I wonder what thousands of ants could do to a body. Care to volunteer and help me find out?” The hand tilted Sania slightly. Shaking, she shook her head. He smiled at her terror.

“Okay. Well, there are durable plants for you to play with. I know of a plant called bamboo that grows fast and can break through stone. It's stronger than stone! So how strong is it against bone? Trees are adaptable and if given no other choice, they will use blood and flesh as a nutrient source. Ain’t that fascinating!?” Sania looked sick to her stomach. Magnifico could only smile wider.

“Does that not intrigue you? You can experience first hand the ruthlessness of nature and if it has limits. Do not worry about your mortality. I will heal you after every plant and ant has had a chance to rip your body open.” Sania struggled and shook her head vigorously.

“No? That's a shame. I’d love to test these events on a live subject. I doubt that I can use my assistant so that leaves me with two options. Use a traitor who challenged my authority.” His smile fell away. “or an arrogant woman that thinks she can do my job.”

The finger moved away from her mouth. “Please… please, not me!” She said softly.

“Are you going to behave yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Yes… what?” He cocked a brow.

She casted her gaze down. “Yes, yo-”

“Look at me.” He demanded.

She slowly turned her gaze up. “Yes, your majesty. I am terribly sorry.”

He smiled. “Wonderful. Glad to have this conversation.” The green hand gently put her down and patted her head before disappearing. The pair ran off like death was after them. Magnifico watched them go with blue eyes, resisting the impulse to laugh.

Magnifico turned his head towards Amaya and Asha, both of them looking back in horror.

He signaled them to follow him inside.

He led them to the main hall before turning to them and seeing Amaya glaring at him. “Asha. You can do your run tomorrow but for now, I need you to go up to Hollow note down what is needed please.”

“I would love to sir but-”

“I'll answer your questions later. For now, I am needed for more urgent matters.”

“A-Alright.” Asha walked off and shut the doors behind her, leaving the monarchs to their business. “Judging by your face, you wanted to speak with me alone?”

“Magnus, what on Earth did you do to that woman!¿”

“Oh? Sania Osman? She was slandering my name and efforts to her peer. I only warned her to stop.”

“By grabbing and threatening her with torture!?”

“To disrespect me in my presence is a call for disciplinary actions.”

“I understand your stance but to scare your people will lower morale and they won't be as cooperative with you. We need to keep their faith in us alive.”

Magnifico stood quiet in consideration.

“Their faith in me is already dwindling. As is my faith in them. I need to catch this traitor and restore order as soon as possible. I love your sentimentality for our people but sometimes, faith isn't enough. If the people of Rosas want what is best for them, they will follow my orders and keep any ill mannered thoughts to themselves.”

“That doesn't explain your implications of considering to use Asha for those "experiments". We heard everything you said to her. Please don't tell me you plan to torture the traitor. You're above that!”

He laughed at that. He looked back at her with his eyes showing green, just for a second.

“It was a lie, Amaya! Something to keep Osman on her toes. I would never consider torturing my assistant. As for the traitor, what is to happen to them is still to be decided.” His hands shook as he spoke. He hid them behind his back.

Amaya noticed and only looked suspicious. “Mi rey, are you okay? You seem... off.”

He sighed and lost all sense amusement. “I'm tired of being provoked. A star could have been summoned. I have a traitor in the ranks. That is enough to worry about. I can't have our people get in the way of it.”

She nodded. “If you're only overworked, I can handle the civil affairs while you focus on the traitor's capture?”

His gaze softened. “You are too kind, mi reina. Thank you so much.”

A/N:

I FINALLY FINISHED!! I've been so excited to write Madok threatening someone so much. Initially they were going to talk about leaving Sania covered in honey and left to beetles when I researched bug related tortures and found a news article of people being tortured with venomous ants, which sounds more terrifying.

The next chapter will be shorter than standard. After that will have more starry involvement and resurfaced trauma.

@rascalentertainments @annymation @chillwildwave @uva124 @oh-shtars @snackara @spectator-zee @thesafireartist @wings-of-sapphire @flicklikesstuff @your-ne1ghbor @dangerousflowerpanda

#wish au #the assistant and the star #wish reimagined #wish rewrite fandom

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bluejay-writes · 3 months ago

Text

MysticTober 2024 Day 8/9: His Muse

You can read this over on Ao3 if you’d prefer.

Rating: T

Prompt: Jihyun x MC / Painting || Fate / Lie

WordCount: 8028

Summary: Jihyun needs a muse for his new painting collection. Author's Notes: So, Day 8 got away from me and became both that and day 9. Sorry it's a day late... but not sorry it's over 8000 words.

Hen knocked on the studio door, then stood and fidgeted nervously with the strings of her hoodie. She’d replied to this advertisement on the Art Department’s bulletin board for a model, specifically one who could stand for long periods of time without moving. Honestly, she was pretty sure that most people these days just took reference photos and painted from that, but if some student wanted to pay her an exorbitant-seeming amount of money to stand in one place with her clothes on (the ad had been very specific that while there would be an outfit provided, it was modest), she wasn’t about to complain.

Her friends had been on her case about applying. She’d always wanted to be a model, but she wasn’t model material. She was in that nebulous middle-point, Far too big to be a classic fashion model, but still too small to be an acceptable plus-size model. And she didn’t hate her body by any means. So she let them nag her into it. She’d sent what the flier asked for. Her name (preferred, even, not even her wallet name) and then a headshot and a full body shot. She’d tried to be as confident as she could while her friends took photos for her, but even now, having landed the job, she was nervous.

What if he was a creep? Art students could be anyone really, and…

The door opened to reveal a man in wire-frame glasses with teal hair and eyes and a warm smile. Wait a minute…

“V?!” Hen had studied his pictures for one of her photography classes, they’d done a unit on current artists, and…

He chuckled looking chagrined. “Call me Jihyun, please.” He led her inside and shut the studio door again before continuing. “V did photos. I’m… well, I’ve moved on from that and I’m pursuing painting, which has been my passion far longer, though I didn’t have the guts to change mediums until recently.”

“Oh.” Hen said, just as awkwardly as she felt. “I didn’t mean to be rude, I…”

“Not rude.” Jihyun interrupted. “I was V. I am still, technically, that same man. I simply am using my given name now.”

He sighed, and shook himself loose from whatever thought seemed to be plaguing him. “We got off on the wrong foot.” He held out his hand for her to shake. “Hi, I’m Jihyun Kim, the artist who will be painting you for the next few hours.”

She took his hand with a grin and a firm shake. “I’m Hen. And I’m very good at standing still.”

The outfit that he’d chosen for her to wear was very fantasy. Flowing skirts, a corseted belt over a lightweight top. She felt like a peasant girl in a magic world, and she loved it. He’d positioned her standing at a window, and she’d gotten to people-watch campus while he painted her. She’d expected a need to be quiet or mostly still, but he told her to go ahead and fidget if she needed to, and kept her engaged in a number of different light topics as he worked, almost as though he was trying to keep her entertained.

Eventually, as the light was waning, Jihyun stood. “Alright, that’s time. Thank you so much for all of your help today.” He smiled. “Do you need assistance with the belt or anything else getting back out of the costume?”

Hen waved him off. “Nah, I’m good. Give me two shakes and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Once she was back to her normal self, she was sad to see that Jihyun had already closed up his work, so that she couldn’t see it. He immediately spotted her looking, however.

“I’ll show you when it’s done. I was intending to invite you to whatever gallery it shows in, of course, as the model.”

Hen grinned. “It would be my honor!”

Jihyun handed her the envelope containing her payment, all smiles. “Honestly, Miss Hen, you’re an amazing model. May I call on you again for another piece? Same terms, but the next one likely won’t be standing.”

Hen nodded, she’d had a great time, and the pay was definitely worth it. “I’d love to.” She said, honestly. “I enjoyed today!”

Jihyun nodded, and they parted ways. Hen couldn’t help but smile, her friends were going to be so surprised when she told them she might even get a callback.

The second time that Hen stood as a model for Jihyun had her sitting on a bench in an awkward position. It was uncomfortable at first, but she made it work. Eventually, Jihyun admitted to her that the piece involved the woman sitting in a tree, but he couldn’t justify making her sit somewhere ostensibly dangerous for hours on end, so he’d made the bench setup like the branch he had in mind. Once he explained that to her, she found it much easier to settle into a pose that was actually useful for him.

She may have caught him grumbling to himself about wasting less time if he could just trust her more. She didn’t blame him, of course, Artists were often secretive, and she knew it was hard to trust someone you didn’t really know. Goodness knows she’d only met this man twice and definitely didn’t trust him with anything personal, so she didn’t blame him. Not even a little.

When the time was up and Jihyun started cleaning up, Hen realized she was stiff as she changed back out of the costume.

“Hey, Jihyun, do you mind if I do some stretches on the floor here before I head out? I’m a little bit stiff.”

“Ah. Go right ahead. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. Your stiffness is the consequence of my art, after all.

Hen sank to the ground, grateful that she’d worn leggings today instead of jeans. She worked her way through some yoga poses, careful of the fact that she didn’t have a mat of any variety, only realizing she was humming as she finished the last of the stretches because of Jihyun’s quiet chuckle.

“I’m glad you’re so comfortable in my studio.” He said, chuckling.

Hen blushed even as she nodded. “You make it easy, Jihyun. This is by far the highlight of my week.”

“Even with the odd held poses?” He was surprised.

“Even so.” Hen nodded. “I’d be honored if you wanted to call me in again.”

Jihyun smiled so brightly at that, Hen couldn’t help but smile in return.

The next sitting was more stereotypical, and Hen couldn’t hold back her giggles as Jihyun helped her pose in a very Ancient Grecian looking gauzy dress while half-laying on a chaise lounge.

“What is it?”

“It’s just… if you told someone they were going to model for a painting, they’d probably imagine something like this.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Yes, I suppose it might be. I hope that the outcome of the painting far exceeds my pedestrian posing layouts.

“I’m certain it will.” Hen had no doubts that the man had an impressive artistic eye - his photographs were stunning enough that she’d written an entire paper on them her freshman semester of college. Sure, her major had nothing to do with art, but one didn’t see one of V’s photos and not know the man was gifted. “If nothing else, Jihyun, it’s fine to have one simpler piece in a collection.”

He chuckled, and Hen settled in to hold her position. It was surprisingly comfortable, and she knew it wasn’t going to be too difficult, especially because he was good about giving her breaks.

For the first time in their sessions, Jihyun was quiet and focused on the painting, which gave Hen time to think about everything going on in her classes, in life, in that book she was reading… eventually she started to feel sleepy. She knew she should say something, get up and take a walk, get some water, anything so that she didn’t cause a problem for Jihyun.

Instead, she found herself drifting off to sleep while watching him paint with the most blissfully calm look on his face that she’d ever seen on another human being.

What felt like a blink and also an eternity later, Hen woke to the soft shake of a shoulder, Jihyun crouched down next to her.

“Hey, Miss Hen.”

She startled, coming to consciousness all at once. “Oh, no, Jihyun! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep!”

“It’s alright, you held the pose I needed, and you just looked so happy I couldn’t bear to wake you. Good dreams, I hope?”

Hen shook her head, holding a hand to her chest to will her heart to calm down from its momentary panic. “No dreams. One minute I was watching you paint, and the next you were waking me up. I feel insanely well rested though. Probably going to be up late tonight.” She chuckled.

“Hm, I should have been responsible and woken you.” He sighed, but continued before Hen could argue. “Would you let me take you to dinner as an apology?”

“What time is it?” Hen asked, sitting up properly so she could stretch the sleep out of her bones.

“Just about six.” Jihyun said, backing up to give her space.

“I could do dinner, I don’t have any other plans.” She said, and the smile that bloomed across his face warmed her soul. Yeah, she’d do a lot just to see that smile more.

Dinner was lovely. They went to a little hole-in-the-wall bibimbap restaurant that seemed to know Jihyun well, but wasn’t so expensive as to make Hen feel out of place. It was even on an easy bus route home again, so she wasn’t even particularly going out of her way, either.

They chatted over dinner about this and that, nothing important, the same calm, cheerful kinds of conversations that they usually had while he was painting. That just cemented for Hen that Jihyun was just like that and he wasn’t just chatting to keep her from getting bored. It made her wonder why he wasn’t chatty during their session today, but by the time they got to a break in conversation where she might have asked, she’d already forgotten.

When the bill came, Hen snatched it away before Jihyun could pick it up, and handed the whole bill to their waitress - a granny who she suspected was simply the owner of the place - with a smile. The granny even turned a look on Jihyun like she was surprised he was letting her pay. Jihyun looked stunned. “Hen, you don’t need to buy my dinner.”

“But I want to.” She smiled. “We’re friends, now, right?”

Jihyun smiled in that way that made her feel alight, and she blushed and fidgeted with her hoodie strings. By the time she realized it, the granny had gone and come back… and she was only paying for her half of dinner. Jihyun smirked at her, and Hen wondered if she’d been played. As they packed up to leave, Jihyun’s phone started ringing, and his face took on an ominous look.

“Sorry, you head on home, I have to take this… and it might be awhile.”

Hen nodded and waved, waving again to the granny on her way out.

That had been a fun dinner. She hoped his phone call wasn’t too painful.

It had been a few months since Hen sat for Jihyun, and almost as long since she’d heard from the man. She’d thought it was Fate when they met and hit it off that well, even just professionally, but then he’d disappeared. Hen tried to convince herself that it was fine, but at this point even she would admit she was moping. She really enjoyed his company, and couldn’t help but feel like she’d done something wrong. Had accepting his dinner invitation been too forward? But she’d even paid for her own meal… Hen had been worrying about this, of course, for weeks now, with only her coursework to keep her mind occupied and off of her presumed faux pas, whatever it might be. And unfortunately, winter break had just started so she had an entire month to mope about and worry about a problem with no guarantee of resolution.

At least she had her favorite coffee shop to curl up and read in. She usually got tea, but today she splurged on an extra sugary coffee drink, and the woman behind the counter chuckled. “Am I celebrating with you or commiserating, Hen?”

“Ugh.” Hen grumbled.

“Commiserating it is!” The woman behind the counter quietly put an extra pump of caramel into the drink - Hen didn’t comment, not sure if it was intentional, but she wasn’t going to turn down more caramel goodness.

An hour or so later, Hen’s reading was interrupted by someone sitting down across from her. She ignored them for a moment, but when they didn’t move she put her bookmark in and looked up, only to let out a surprised squeak as she realized the person sitting there was none other than Jihyun, patiently waiting for her to pause.

Before she could say anything, the woman behind the counter appeared and set a coffee down in front of him. “Don’t scare away my regulars, Jihyun.” She said sternly, then returned behind the counter.

Before Hen could say anything, Jihyun immediately spoke up.

“I’m so glad that I found you.” He winced. “I threw my phone in the ocean in a fit of temper. Did you know that there is such a thing as backing up your contacts? I… did not do this thing. And as such, I had to simply hope to run into you. It took some time.”

He slid a brand new phone across the table to her. “My friend set it up so I can’t do that again, even if I do something as stupid as throwing my phone into the ocean again. May I have your number again?”

Hen sighed, and immediately added herself as a contact. “So you’re saying you didn’t respond to my texts not because you were upset with me, but because you didn’t know who they were from?” She looked over at her phone as the message she sent herself pinged in as an unknown number.

Jihyun had the grace to look embarrassed. “I needed a new number.”

“Did something happen?” Hen added his new number to her contacts, and changed the old one to read “Davy Jones’ Locker”, just in case some fish tried to text her later.

Jihyun sighed. “The unreasonable unbelievable drama that is my life simply continues to happen.” He took a sip of his drink and sighed happily. Jaehee could really make a mean latte.

Hen chuckled. “Everyone’s got some weird rats in their closet, I swear. I’m glad you reappeared, I was worried.”

“You were?” His eyes lit up for a moment, but then dimmed. “I’m sorry, Miss Hen. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Hey, it’s fine, you reappeared before I could mope myself into a corner.”

“Why would you be moping?” Jihyun was clearly confused.

“Well, I mean, I bullied my way into paying for my own dinner and then you disappeared. I was sure I’d said something stupid, or maybe that I shouldn’t have gone to dinner.”

“God, no, Hen. That dinner was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, I just had to leave for a trip the next morning…”

“His not wanting you to pay is just some misplaced chivalry.” The counter lady said, stopping by to leave a to-go cup refill of Hen’s coffee. “This one’s on the house. For celebrating this time, and for putting up with him.” She winked, and Jihyun looked scandalized.

“Jaehee! Are you buying my… are you buying Hen’s loyalty with coffee now?”

The woman - Jaehee apparently - cackled. “Yes.” The look she was wearing told Hen that she had no idea what their relationship was, and was assuming all kinds of things that Hen didn’t want to have to be the one to dissuade her from.

“Listen…” Jihyun took a deep breath. “Between the trip and needing to find you back, I’m way behind on painting work, and the gallery’s already booked. You wouldn’t happen to be… staying in town for winter break? I could book you… a lot… if you had time.” He looked like he expected her to say no, like he was already letting himself down before she could.

“I’m so game.” she said, laughing awkwardly. “I have, well, nothing going on for the next month until classes start up again.”

“No family events, or friend things, or…” Jihyun looked surprised.

“Nope. Just lil ol me and my TBR.”

“TBR?”

“To Be Read. All the books I haven’t read this past semester because of classwork.”

Jihyun laughed at his own expense. “I should have known what that was. Fair, fair. Um.” He took a deep breath. “So, I can’t use my campus studio during break. Would you be okay coming to my apartment? It’s safe, I promise, and if you don’t feel safe you can leave, I won’t be upset.” Hen nodded, but winked at him before calling out to Jaehee behind the counter. “Hey Jaehee, can I trust this guy?”

Jihyun paled as though he had no idea what Jaehee would say.

“With your life.” Jaehee responded, without a pause. “But if you need an emergency text check-in hit me up before you leave.” Something relaxed in Jihyun, and Hen wondered if he’d let her give him a hug, but the moment was lost when he stood and bussed her empty mug.

Jihyun’s apartment was the 79th floor of an 80-floor high rise building. The entire 79th floor. Well, apparently his apartment was half of it and the other half was studio space, but still. She went directly to the windows and looked out over downtown, her eyes shining when she looked back at him.

“Jihyun, we should have done that first painting here…. this is such a great view!!” The painter smiled. “I’m glad you think that, actually… because I was hoping to do a triptych of that one, and so I’d need you to stand for two more at windows, and, well…”

He looks so nervous! Hen thought, and smiled, shaking her head and then nodding.

“Listen, Jihyun. I will sit for you to paint as often as you need me this month, as long as I don’t starve to death, and get to sleep properly.”

“That’s a low bar. I’m still going to pay you. Same rates. Also, since we’re not on campus I’m covering at least one meal a sitting. No arguments or pulling what you did at Yu’s!”

Hen blushed. “I still think it was only fair.”

Jihyun laughed, and walked over to a closet. “So, this closet has the outfits for the other…” he winced. “Four paintings I have in mind.”

“That’s only like one a week, do you have other obligations? We both already know I don’t.”

Jihyun chuckled. “Well, I can get the part of the work I need you modeling for done in our usual 6-hour blocks, so we could do those, say… every other day? That should give me plenty of time for finishing work on all of them and still be able to get them to the gallery on time.”

“Do you want to start today, since I’m here?”

Jihyun looked at the clock. “Only if you let me buy lunch and take you to dinner after.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Kim.” He raised an eyebrow, and she relented. “Yes, okay, okay. I want to see your gallery look good. I don’t know why you’re not the one begging here.”

Jihyun blinked. “I… really should be, shouldn’t I? You’re too good to me, Miss Hen.”

“Just call me Hen. It’s already a nickname.”

“It is? No wonder I couldn’t find you.”

Hen laughed so hard she sat down abruptly on the floor. “Jihyun Kim. You seriously thought my given name was Hen. Like a chicken.”

“Yes. Why would I assume otherwise?”

Hen just made flustered hand motions while she laughed at him.

“It’s Henrietta.” She said, once she could breathe properly. “Henrietta Chatham.”

“I like Hen better.” Jihyun said through a pout.

“Me too! That’s why I introduce myself that way! If you start calling me Miss Henrietta, I’ll quit.”

“Please don’t.” Jihyun said, helping her up off the floor. “Hen.”

She blushed at their proximity, and turned toward the closet so he wouldn’t notice. “So, which outfit first?”

Jihyun pulled out an outfit that was leggings and a leotard and a cropped leather jacket. “Cyberpunk? Or 80s Workout?” She asked, and as usual he gave her a shrug. No insight from the artist. No hints. No spoilers. She would get to see the paintings at the gallery opening with everyone else, and no sooner.

Hen was changing back into her regular clothes when she heard a knock at the door. Grateful that this wasn’t her house and thus she was spared from needing to rush to get clothes on and the inevitable falling over that would come with it, Hen simply continued at her leisurely undressing and redressing pace… which also meant she was able to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Ah, good evening, Jihyun.” A warm baritone that matched V’s friendly tenor practically sang into the apartment.

“Jumin. Good to see you well. What can I help you with?”

“Miss Kang told me you found your muse.”

“I did. At Jaehee’s coffee shop, no less. I owe her.”

Muse? Does he consider me his Muse?? Hen felt her cheeks heat as she considered what that meant, if it meant anything. She hurried a little bit faster to get herself put back together.

“Well, I suppose you shouldn’t have any problems getting five more pieces done in time for the gallery opening, assuming she’s amenable to sitting for more paintings?”

She heard Jihyun laugh as she opened the bathroom door and made her way over to the costume closet without even glancing at the door.

“I’d say she is, we already got one session in today.” His volume changed as he turned and called out to her. “Hen, come over here when you’re done there, would you?”

She turned, surprised to see that Jihyun’s guest was in a three-piece suit, albeit one decorated with white cat fur.

“Hi.” She said, holding out a hand. “I’m Hen.”

He shook her hand, professional to a T. “Jumin Han.” Then, he turned back to Jihyun. “You should tell Luciel you’ve found her so he stops sending photos of random chickens to the chat and asking if they’re her. He’s been at it for approximately two hours now.”

Hen couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. “Seriously?! Will you show me? We can pick which chicken looks most like me.”

JIhyun smiled that smile she loved so much. “We can look over dinner.” He turned to Jumin. “Would you like to join us? We’re going out for barbecue.”

Jumin shook his head. “Elizabeth is waiting for me. But thank you. Maybe next time.”

They watched as he turned and went back to the elevator and rode it…up. “He lives above you?” Hen asked, as they waited for the elevator to return for them to take it down instead.

“Yes.” Jihyun said with a smile. “We were childhood friends, Jumin and I.”

“And now?”

“Still friends. Less so children.”

Hen giggled, and tried to keep herself from thinking of this dinner as a date. It was just.. a work dinner.

The rest of the week flew by, and before Hen knew it she was back on her own, her sittings were all done and now she had all the free time in the world to get her reading done, but she couldn’t stop thinking of Jihyun. She hadn’t really been being honest with herself about him, it seemed, but now that she had some time to think clearly, it was plain as day. She was in love with the painter. He made her smile and laugh in a way no one else had. None of her previous partners even held a candle to the way he made her feel.

Sure, she might be his muse, not that he’d said as much to her even after she’d heard Jumin say it, but regardless… that was an art thing, not a personal thing. And now that this collection was done, other than the gallery opening he’d wanted her to come to, she may not ever see him again. Hen sighed, and like clockwork, her phone started ringing. Who called these days? Oh. It was Jihyun!

“Hey Jihyun!”

“Hi… I have… a selfish request.”

“Shoot.”

“I need your help. I’m trying to get all the finishing work done and for the life of me I cannot focus. I thought maybe getting someone to body double for me would help, but all of my friends are normal boring adults with day jobs. Jumin offered his cat, but she’s white and a mischief and I do not think that would be a good idea around all the paint…”

“Jihyun. Slow down. Calm down, it’s okay. What do you actually need from me?”

“Come and sit here and hang out? You can bring your books. I know you were eyeing that oversized chair, I’ll clear it out so you can relax. Maybe… get coffee from Jaehee’s on the way? I’ll pay you back, I swear, I… Hell, I’ll even pay your sitting fee just to chill with me for the day.”

“Jihyun! That’s not how friendship works! You don’t need to pay me to hang out with you. But you can take me to dinner. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Peppermint! Bye!” She hung up to the sound of his laughter, and if she wasn’t about to walk through his door with two coffees and a tote bag full of paperbacks to devour, she’d hate to end the call. Yeah. She had it bad.

Hen knocked on Jihyun’s door in the most inelegant fashion possible: with her forehead. She’d considered kicking it, but that would have sloshed the coffees too much.

Of course, Jihyun opened by her third knock, and instead she stumbled forward a step when her head met air.

“Were you knocking with your head?”

“Shhh.”

“Nooo. Your poor face.”

“I said shhhhh.” She allowed him to take his coffee, and laughed when she spotted the oversized chair in her usual posing space. “I’m modeling my dumb reading faces for you today.”

“I told you I’d pay your sitting fee.” He winked at her when she blustered, and instead she blushed. “What? You’re going to be sitting!”

“You. Are a brat.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“What, your RFA Friends?” She said, thinking back to the chatroom entirely full of chicken photos.

“Only ones I’ve got.”

“You’ve got me!” Hen argued, and Jihyun turned a look on her that she couldn’t decipher, not even paired with the radiant smile.

“You’re different. You’re my Muse, Hen.”

“Well, you’re my… artist… i guess.. there’s not a good word for that. I’m sticking with friend.” She grinned at him, and he laughed.

“Well, get to reading, Muse, I better get myself actually working so you didn’t come here for no reason.”

Hen settled and then realized the scale of the canvas he was currently working on.

“Damn, Jihyun, that’s huge. Is it the centerpiece?”

“It is!”

“And you still won’t let me sneak a peek?”

“Of course not! and ruin the effect of the collection as a whole on opening night? Never.”

“I’m still invited to that?”

“Of course. You’re my muse. You’re my plus one.”

Hen saw the chance and had to ask… to save herself heartbreak down the road.

“What, no boyfriend? I was sure you and Jumin had--”

“No.” He cut her off. “I’m single, Hen. Have been since… well. Everything.”

“You’ll have to tell me about that someday, you know? I hate walking into landmines that just hurt your feelings.”

“You’re right. I should. Maybe over dinner?”

They spent the day in quiet companionship. Every now and again Hen would laugh at something that happened in her book, or absolutely have to read part of something to Jihyun because it was just written way too well.

They took a break for lunch, Jihyun had ordered sandwiches while she was still wrapped up in the most recent book.

“Your reading speed is ridiculous.”

“Jihyun. I’m in law school. Of course it’s ridiculous.”

“…I keep forgetting that. You’re so nice.”

“Sometimes lawyers are nice.”

“My lived experience begs to differ.”

“Hm.” Time to change the subject so that he could get back to work and not just spill everything now. “You’re going to tell me about that over dinner you said. Any ideas where you want to take me?”

Jihyun blinked for a moment, and then shrugged. “I was thinking Sushi?”

“I do not know if I am dressed well enough to go out for sushi, but…”

“I was thinking about a local place that has all you can eat sushi. No dress code. Plenty of time to sit and talk about difficult subjects in an informal environment.”

“Oh. Well then. You will be surprised at how much sushi I can eat.”

“With my friends, I don’t get surprised by much anymore.”

“And since then, she’s been in Alaska, at an inpatient rehabilitation center.”

“Jesus. That was… you? We discussed the situation in one of my classes while it was ongoing.”

“Yes, I’m not surprised, it was a clusterfuck.”

Hen reached her hand out across the table to take Jihyun’s, heedless of how forward she was being. The man needed comfort.

“That’s a lot of stress, Jihyun.”

Jihyun sighed, but didn’t move his hand out from under hers, a choice that Hen chose to take as a positive sign.

“It was, but it’s over. Now I can move on and be better. To myself. To my friends.”

They paused to eat more of the sushi in front of them, when something he said suddenly connected for Hen.

“You said she’s in Alaska… is that when you ‘lost’ your phone?”

Jihyun chuckled. “When I threw it into the ocean. Yeah. We were still engaged when she was sentenced, and I hadn’t woken up at the hospital yet, so they put me down as one of her guardians. She was demanding to see me since I was on her paperwork… I had to go there in person to get my name removed.”

“Oh because that was safe and healthy for your trauma…” Hen muttered grumpily.

Jihyun nodded. “Exactly. Anyway, once I left, she started texting me begging me to come back, and… I just… I needed to be free of her. Of all that. I’d managed to put myself back together in the two years since and I couldn’t go back to that mental place. So I chucked my phone off of the side of the ferry. ‘Oops’. My only regret is losing your contact information in the process. Why did we never email?”

Hen shook her head with a low chuckle. “Hubris. I don’t know. I’m just glad you found me back. I was really worried I’d done something to upset you.”

“Well, I do wish you’d let me buy you dinner. Grandma Yu teases me to this day about ruining that date.”

Date? Hen must have thought about it for a minute too long, because Jihyun was rushing past the statement like he’d never made it.

“You’re not buying dinner tonight. This is my gift in return for you sharing your day with me.”

Hen nodded. “The chat with the chickens - that was those friends?”

“The very same.”

“I hope I get to meet them someday.”

“They’ll be at the gallery. Maybe… don’t wear feathers.”

Hen laughed so hard she aspirated her tea. “Jihyun!! What should I wear?!”

Leaving the restaurant, Hen realized this would be a perfect time to tell Jihyun how she felt. He deserved to know. She deserved to be let down in a nice quiet parking lot, not in front of however many people at the gallery showing. And since that was the last time she was likely to see him, well, she chose now.

“Jihyun, I…”

He reached out and held a finger to her lips, stopping her from talking.

“I know what you’re going to say. Can you wait until after you see the paintings? Please?”

Hen blinked. He wanted her to wait to confess until after the gallery? That was exactly the opposite of what she wanted.

What she was thinking must have shown on her face.

“I promise I will hear you out. I will give you privacy if you want it. But I need you to see… what I see… first.”

Hen sighed and nodded, and only then did he move his finger.

As her bus pulled up to the stop, Jihyun smiled at her. “See you at the gallery.”

“Yeah.” she forced a smile onto her face. “See you Saturday.”

The entire ride home, Hen let the tears silently track down her cheeks. He was going to turn her down, she knew it. He’d known she was going to confess. How many people had fallen for him while modeling? How many women had he turned down? Had he known since he came back from Alaska? Had he known before she did?

He’d had probably the worst relationship experience on the planet, there was no way he’d be interested in trying something. It wasn’t even that there was anything wrong with her, just that with everything he’d been through…

Hen sighed. She was thinking in circles. She should have known better than to fall for anyone. It’s not like her dating history was stellar either. She wiped the tears from her face as her bus arrived at her stop and she started walking home. She would be the best possible muse at this gallery opening. The belle of the ball. Maybe they could stay friends, if she didn’t make a complete mess of everything. She’d like that.

Hen had gone all-out for the gallery opening. She’d secretly talked to Jaehee at the cafe about what the dress code would actually be like, so she wouldn’t embarrass anyone, and the woman had actually volunteered to go shopping with her. Hen turned her down, but they exchanged numbers so Hen could send photos if she needed advice. She felt like she needed to do this herself.

Eventually she found what she needed. A navy blue and black jacquard dress, with an off-the shoulder sweetheart neckline and a subtle high low hem, from knees to tea length. The neckline showed a lot of skin, but a shawl would temper it, especially with her hair in loose curls over one shoulder.

Hair and makeup were easy. She knew how to put on a flawless face, it was practically a requirment with law school. Her favorite jewelry - understated sapphire earrings and a matching pendant on silver chain - finished the look. With a pair of short black suede ankle boots, a cashmere shawl, and her wool coat, she was prepared for a gallery opening in mid-January. Hopefully Jaehee hadn’t steered her wrong. She wouldn’t know what to do if she were dressed improperly. Both overdressed and underdressed were a possibility here, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous.

“You’ve really outdone yourself, Jihyun, these pieces are magnificent.”

Hen stepped into the gallery, slightly early for the actual opening, but Jihyun had requested her to be early to meet his friends. The entrance to the room was slightly raised, and had an unimpeded view of the collection. She could hear people talking, but she had eyes only for the art on display. She recognized all of the pieces along the edges from her sittings. First the triptych, Three pieces, one looking left out a window toward a historical setting, one looking right out a window in a cyberpunk-esque future setting (she knew that’s what that outfit was!), and the third looking straight out a window into a modern wartorn landscape.

“I see why you wouldn’t show us any of them early.”

The one where she’d been posing on the bench like it was a tree seemed to be robin hood? Or maybe hunger games? Either way, very stealthy, she loved the look of it. Opposite that was the grecian chaise lounge scene… he’d actually painted her asleep?! Jihyun! She internally scolded him. He could have just asked her to pretend to be asleep. Brat.

“Imagine if he hadn’t found his muse back!”

Her favorite so far had been the hardest pose to hold for the time he’d needed - a sword-weilding maiden from chinese folklore. It actually showed her in three distinct poses, as though in motion, and she stared at it for a long time. The last had her crumpled on the floor in front of a grave, hair in her face, soaked by rain. She’d remembered that - he’d asked her if she’d be willing to go stand in the shower in the giant pile of organza. She’d gotten the entire studio wet. It had been a riot.

“You did five of these just this month? You’re a madman, V… I mean Jihyun.”

But it wasn’t until she focused on the centerpiece - the only one she hadn’t posed for - that she realzied that none of the women in the paintings were actually her. She’d posed for them, but they had different hairstyles, different facial features, like she was playing characters instead of being herself.

“Jihyun, this collection is radiant. If it’s this good, then your muse must be exquisite.”

The centerpiece was actually a painting of her, done the last day she’d been in his studio, sitting ridiculously sideways in that oversized chair engrossed in her book, but instead of it being in his studio it was in a vast library. She couldn’t help but laugh when she realized how many hints he’d tried to give her that she was in fact sitting for another painting. He’d clearly wanted her to be herself. God she loved him.

She looked down, then, to where Jihyun was standing surrounded by a small group of people… all of whom were looking up at her. Of them, she recognized Jaehee from the coffee shop and Jumin his upstairs neighbor / childhood friend. There were also two gingers who could be twins, a girl with long brown fringe and even longer hair, a blonde with dark roots, and a … was that Zen?! Huh. He wasn’t kidding about the eclectic group of friends he had.

Jihyun held out a hand to beckon her over, and she made her way down the stairs and over to the group. Jihyun took her around the group; Jaehee, the owner/operator of the coffee shop she frequented. Jumin, his best friend from childhood and Director of C&R International. Saeyoung and Saeran, the computer-savvy twins. MC, the insightful party planner. Yoosung, the newly-minted Veterinarian. Zen, also known as Hyun, the actor.

“And I’m the model.” She shook her head. “I mean law student.” She smirked at Jihyun who laughed. She didn’t miss the surprised looks from his friends at the sound of his laugh. She was right. This man needed to smile and laugh more. If she could give that to him, she would gladly — no, that was a lie - she would accept simply being his friend. “You sell yourself short.” Jihyun said, a soft smile flickering into place. “This is Hen. My muse. My friend. I hope you can all get along well.”

“Don’t worry, Jihyun. We’ll take care of your girl when you inevitably get pulled away by boring rich guys.” One of the twins - Saeyoung, she thought, gold eyes - said with a smirk.

After the introductions, the RFA scattered around the room as other patrons of the arts started to filter in, the official start time having passed. Jihyun held his arm out for her like a proper gentleman. “You look absolutely stunning tonight, Hen.” He said with that smile she loved so much.

“Thank you.” She felt her cheeks heat and willed herself to calm down. This was his show. “I didn’t want to make you look bad. Not after you made me look so good.” She gestured to the biggest piece of art in the room, and he had the grace to look embarrassed.

“I should have been up front and asked for your permission, but I wanted to paint you naturally, not posing. I’m sorry I lied to you, Hen.”

Hen shook her head. “You didn’t lie to me, Jihyun. You left so many crumbs, I could have assembled an entire loaf of bread from how much you were afraid to surprise me with this. Hell, you even offered to pay me a sitting fee just to hang out with you. The fact that I was still surprised is more on me than it is on you!”

“I’m still going to pay you for that.”

Hen smirked. They’d had this back and forth so many times, she couldn’t help but kick it up a notch.

“You could pay me back with a kiss.” She said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Jihyun not only sputtered trying to respond to her in any fashion, he even stopped walking.

Hen turned to apologize to him, just in time to see Jihyun school his features and hold his arm out properly again. Great, now you’ve done it, Hen. If he wasn’t going to turn you down before, he definitely is now.

Moments later, a group of men walked up and started talking to Jihyun about his works, and Hen tuned in so that she could respond to any questions asked of her. There weren’t any, of course, she was arm candy and most of them probably hadn’t even noticed that she was the woman pictured in the art.

Eventually, the event was in full swing, and Jihyun went up to the landing to talk about the art a bit. He told a story about a woman who loved to read more than anything, and her trips of imagination through storybooks. He talked about how the collection was about escapism through fiction, and how the modern world has made even fictional war more glamorous than our day-to-day slog through capitalism.

He introduced her to the assembled patrons as his muse, the beautiful law student who deigned to stand, sit and otherwise pose for long hours just so that he might put some paint on canvas. There was nothing in his description about their friendship, or the bond they’d formed, simply a focus on a beautiful woman who inspired his art. He even kept her name out of it, kept her away from being associated with his art in any way but visually.

Hen was more certain than ever that this would be the last night she would see Jihyun. Maybe she wouldn’t tell him how she felt. Maybe it would be better to pretend that she wasn’t feeling any of this. After his talk, Jihyun passed her off to Saeyoung to walk through the gallery while he was accosted by too many people all at once, just as they’d predicted.

Hen looked around for the rest of his friends, and couldn’t help but notice MC snuggled up to the other twin. “Those two are cute together.” She said discreetly, and Saeyoung laughed.

“They are. They’ve been dating for a few years now.”

“Aww, that’s just too sweet.”

“You mean like you and Jihyun?”

Hen laughed bitterly. “I wish.”

“Oh come on, Hen, I’ve only known you for a few hours and—“

“I didn’t realize I was that obvious.” She chuckled ruefully at her own hubris. “He stopped me from confessing, Saeyoung. I don’t stand a chance with someone like him.”

Saeyoung sighed. “I think you’re selling yourself short. You’re good for him, Hen. I haven’t heard him laugh like that in… a very long time.”

Saeyoung’s words stuck with Hen the rest of the night, even as she was bounced between the other members of the RFA. Just as she was thinking she’d hit her limit for socialization for one night, and thought she might try to find Jihyun to say goodbye before heading out, the man found her himself, a hand at her elbow leading her away from the crowd.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get much time together tonight.” He said, turning her to face him, his hands gently circling her, keeping her close enough that their quiet voices wouldn’t carry.

“All those hours with me in your studio, I’m sure you had more than enough of me.”

“Never!” He said with a laugh. “What you were going to say the other night…”

Hen blushed, and bit her lip. Her confidence was gone. Her willingess to have her heart trampled had gone with it. “Jihyun, I…”

“Hen, I’m in love with you.” Jihyun interrupted, and Hen was suddenly very aware of how he was shaking.

“You…”

“I know, it’s inappropriate. I tried to be good, but I couldn’t have you end everything before you at least got to see the gallery and—“

Hen reached out and put her finger against his lips to silence him. “Jihyun. Me too.”

His eyes went wide, but she didn’t move her finger, and he didn’t attempt to say anything.

“I was so sure you were going to turn me down when I tried to confess after sushi.” She moved her hand away then, anxiously twisting her fingers together.

“Wait, you meant—“

She nodded, cursing the tears beading up in her eyes. “And then when you kept me out of your speech except the fact that I was standing there, I..”

“I wanted to keep your bright future from being tainted by my questionable past, is all.”

“We’re idiots, aren’t we? ”

He nodded. “Complete idiots, but at least we’re together.”

“We have got to learn to communicate better. No more throwing phones in the ocean.”

They shared a laugh, and Hen knew, then, that everything was finally going to be alright.

“Hey, let’s get out of here.” Jihyun said, that smile she loved so much lighting his face. “Jumin can handle the cleanup and closing.” He looked over her shoulder and she felt him shake with silent laughter.

Hen followed his line of sight to where Jumin was standing with Saeyoung, the former nodding discreetly while the latter made hand motions as if shooing them away. She giggled. “Okay, Jihyun Kim, I will allow you to drive me home.”

The ride home was silent, but it was a calm introspective kind of silence, rather than an anxious uncomfortable one. Hen, of course, was warring with herself internally about what she wanted to do with her night. She was reminded, as they pulled into her parking area, that she didn’t have to make these choices alone anymore.

“Do you want to come up for tea?” Hen asked quietly, fidgeting with the ends of her shawl in lieu of her usual sweatshirt strings.

“I would love to.” Jihyun said, just as softly.

She led him through the building to her lofty third-floor apartment, where she stepped out of her shoes and set about getting tea started. She set the mugs on the counter and opened the tea cabinet. When she turned to ask Jihyun what kind of tea he wanted, he was right behind her, and she startled.

“Oh, hello there.” She said with an awkward giggle.

“Hi, Hen.” He said, leaning into her space. “May I kiss you?”

She nodded even as she felt the blush on her cheeks, and moments later his lips were on hers, and her arms were looped around his neck, holding him close. When they broke for air, they both laughed before moving toward each other again.

“What about the tea?” She asked, softly, afraid to break the spell.

“I… don’t need tea.”

#mystictober 2024 #mm_mystictober2024 #mystic messenger #mysme #jihyun kim #mysme v #post-canon #this is a kissing book #fanfic

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