#BOWING DOWN FOR HER FR

[c6jpg]

classic genshin trailer making a story quest seem a lot more dramatic than it actually is LMAO

[boyfhee]

fans will use the lamest excuse to defend wonyoung

[swagging-back-to]

im literally sooooooo anti katniss x peeta FR

[karoiga]

gonna watch the highlights later, but that game point from karo…. so hot

[snickerdoodlebaby]

a sangwoo x inho combo is probably lethal they would want to destroy you 😵‍💫 idk who’s meaner

The dream team combo fr 🙏

I see Sangwoo being more of a pervert, always pushing your boundaries and cleverly manipulating your innocent self. And I see Inho as more strict, roughly dealing out punishments to set your bratty ass in line.

Sangwoo holds you down against his sitting form, his big hands digging into the plush of your bare thighs, your ass high in the air. His lap is warm against your abdomen as your head is bowed down.

“Hold still.” You try your hardest to stop your wiggling and whimpering when the command comes from Sangwoo, you really do! You know he means business because he rolled up his sleeves and removed his glasses for this particular occasion. It’s not like you can move much anyways, with Inho’s tie binding your wrists together.

Oh, that’s right.

You can’t forget about the other man in the room, standing tall next to the two of you. Inho has a dark look as he eyes your plump ass in Sangwoo’s lap, raising his hand high behind you.

The slap is delivered with an echo around the room, your cheek rippling violently at the spank. You immediately cry out, you can’t help yourself!

“Shut her the fuck up.” Inho directs Sangwoo this time, the man moving quick to bend down with his mouth against your ear. “Shut that whore mouth before I put something in it. Be a good girl and take your punishment quietly.”

Your ass stings so badly it makes your eyes water, your lip nearly bleeding from how hard you’re biting down on it to silence yourself. Inho goes in for a second one when you’ve barely even recovered from the first.

You internally curse and squeeze your eyes shut, Sangwoo’s large body now covering your small naked one to keep you still. You try to shuffle your ass away from Inho’s hand but he grabs your thighs from the back roughly, tugging you back up.

Ah shit, you were in for it…you really shouldn’t have pissed them off.

By the end of the night your ass is littered with red hand marks from both of the men, you can pick out which one belongs to who because they each picked a cheek to abuse <3

[mydadleft471]

Envelop Me

Summary: Messmer begins to worry when he realizes he hasn't seen you at all today. Rushing to your chambers, he realizes that you're just on your period and need some comfort.

Spoilers for Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. No warnings, per usual. Just my boi being soft and caring for a fem! reader on her period.

Messmer lovers, I've brought an appetizer!

This fic was requested by anonymous! The request was, "Consider: Messmer x reader on their period, he's like a very large heat pack". GENIUS IDEA. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you like it :D

My requests are indeed open! I'm going to get started on my next request as soon as I post this, so be on the lookout for a new fic in the next few days.

Anywho, please enjoy! Thank you all for reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting on my works! Each and every one makes me wanna kick my feet and giggle fr.

Messmer was beginning to worry about you. Half the day had passed already and he hadn’t seen you out of your chambers. Normally, you’d make your way to him soon after you’d finished breakfast. Even if you planned on spending the day pouring over documents and books in his storehouse, you’d pay him a visit before departing. This was unusual behavior for you. Had he done something to upset you? Did you fall ill overnight? Surely not the latter; his servants would inform him right away of your state and would have taken you to the infirmary.

He decided that he couldn’t sit and wait on his throne for you anymore. He would come to your chambers himself and see what was preventing you from visiting him. Quickly making his way out of his dark chamber, he startles the Fire Knights standing guard outside his door. Taking the steps down two at a time and rushing through the hallways towards your quarters, he notices one of your usual servants standing worried outside your door. Noticing his presence, she bows and steps aside for him to enter.

“Has she come out of her chambers today?” Messmer tries to keep his voice even despite the uncertainty coursing through his veins like fire.

She shakes her head. “No, my Lord. I brought breakfast to her, per usual, and she only ate a little. I asked if she required assistance getting dressed, but she dismissed me and told me she wished to spend the day in bed.”

“And why was this not reported to me?” His eye narrows and the servant shrinks into herself. She looks like she wishes she could dissipate into thin air.

“Sincerest apologies, my Lord. I figured she simply wished to remain alone today. I asked if she was feeling ill, and she said that she was just very tired.”

He sighs. Sometimes, you would prefer to stay in bed all day, but you would come to Messmer’s chambers and you two would laze around together. He cannot recall a time where you would prefer to be alone. 

He sighs. “I understand. I will see what bothers her so.”

The servant bows and scurries off, leaving him alone before your door. Never before has he been so afraid to see you. With shaking hands, he raps on your door three times. He hears a faint shuffling of sheets coming from within the room.

“Yes?” He takes immense comfort in the fact that you are responding.

“Beloved, may I come in? I wish to see thee.”

He hears your voice quiver. “I am afraid I don’t feel very well today. I’m not sure I would make good company, My Lord.” 

“Whatever is the matter? Dost thou require a healer?” His snakes wrap themselves tighter around his frame, also worried for your wellbeing. They nose at your door, eager to see you.

“No, my love. I’m okay.” Your words come out strained, and his anxiety increases tenfold.

“I wish to see thee with my own eyes to ensure thy good health. Please, my beloved.” He would get on his knees and beg for you to let him in if he had to. He would do anything to know you were alright.

There is a beat of silence before you respond. “Come in.”

He opens the door so fast he almost twists the door off its hinges. He enters swiftly and closes the door, striding over to your side in hurried steps that echo off the marble floors. Messmer’s snakes incline themselves forward and it almost seems like they’re racing him to get to you first. When he arrives at your bedside, the sight he sees makes his heart drop.

You are wrapped in your sheets and comforter with sweat adorning your forehead. You wince in pain and he notices that you are curled in on yourself. You look at him with tired eyes and give him a small smile. His snakes flick their tongues into the air and they taste a hint of blood. Your blood. Messmer erupts in fury and his mind races a mile a minute. His serpents coil and hiss, looking around the room wildly for your attacker.

“What has happened? Who hast dared to hurt thee?!” He roars, summoning his spear. “Tell me now, beloved, and I will ensure they never cause thee pain again.” His voice bounces off the walls of your chamber and he is sure the entire keep can hear him, but he cannot bring himself to care.

You reach weakly for his hand and he immediately takes it, clutching it tightly. You feel the heat radiating off of him. You know you need to calm him down, and soon, lest he burn your favorite blanket to ash.

“No one has hurt me, my love. I’m alright.”

“My serpents smelled thy blood in the air. Who hast hurt thee so?” 

“Messmer, I’m on my period. Nobody hurt me.” You wince in pain once again.

He can’t believe he didn’t realize that sooner. In his defense, he thought someone had hurt his sweet consort.

“I see.” He gingerly sits down on the bed beside your crumpled form, still holding your hand. “I apologize if I frightened thee.” 

“It’s okay.” You squeeze his hand in reassurance. “You… do know what a period is, yes?”

He raises his brow. “Thou thinkest me a child?”

“No, not at all, I just didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, lightning licks up your spine and radiates throughout your back. You curl in on yourself tighter and breathe heavily.

Messmer’s eye flicks wildly over your covered body. “What wouldst thou have me do? I refuse to stand idly by while thou suffers.”

“Can you come lay with me, please? I just want you to hold me.” Your sweet request has his heart fluttering in his chest.

Wordlessly, he walks over to the other side of the large bed and climbs in. He doesn’t want to ask you to move when you are clearly in so much pain. He shuffles over to you and pulls the blanket up to cover you both. He hovers next to you, unsure of how to hold you. He’s terrified of hurting you on accident.

You roll over and scoot closer to him, your body protesting the sudden movement. You lay your head on his chest and try to get comfortable on your side.

“How dost thou feel now?” He strokes your hair tentatively.

“A little better.” You continue to shift against him.

He sighs and tilts your chin up so you meet his gaze. It’s loving and tender. “Wouldst thou be comfortable laying on top of me?”

“I think so.”

He gently lifts your body until you are completely sprawled out on top of him on your stomach with your head in the middle of his chest. He places a large hand on your back and you feel immediate relief. Between the warmth of his body pressed against yours and his hand on your back, your muscles slowly begin to relax.

“You’re so warm…” You mumble into his chest.

“Dost thou require me to move? Have I made thee too warm?” His voice is laced with concern.

“No. It feels wonderful.” You nuzzle your head into him and sigh, content. He smiles and places a light kiss to the top of your head. His serpents nip at the blanket and pull it over you, then carefully wind over your shoulders and lie down.

“Why didst thou not send for me?” He traces small circles into your lower back. “I grew worried at your absence.”

“I’m sorry. I just felt like I wouldn’t be good company like this.”

“So thou would rather toil in isolation?”

“That’s very funny coming from you, my love.”

He rolls his eye. “Perhaps I am not the best example to live by when one is in such pain, but I wish to be of comfort, just as thou has been for me. I wish to care for thee, my beloved.”

You lean your head up to look at him and press a kiss to his lips. His cheeks redden from the simple gesture, as they always do. “You care for me plenty.”

“I am glad thou thinkest so.”

You shake your head and smile at him. “I know so. I refuse to hear anymore doubts from you.”

“Thou’rt demanding indeed, but I shall not stand against thy wishes, my Lady.”

You chuckle at him. “I also refuse to get up for another few hours.”

“Being late for dinner does not sound like thee.”

Your stomach grumbles at the mention of dinner, and Messmer laughs. 

“How much of the day did I spend wallowing away in misery?”

“About half. Dinner is not far away.”

“Good. I’m starving.”

A comfortable silence encompasses you both and all you can hear are your shared breaths. Messmer lazily flicks his wrist and your fireplace sparks to life. The flames hum and sway side-to-side, dancing. The black tendrils delicately wind their way up and around the flame in almost hypnotizing movements. You’ve always found Messmer’s fire to be beautiful.

You could stay here forever, wrapped in silk sheets and cozy blankets with your lover. His dominant hand caresses your back with feather-light touches and it lulls you into a drowsy haze. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Messmer?” Your voice is serene and quiet.

“Yes, beloved?”

“Do you think we could have dinner in bed? I don’t want to get up.”

He laughs genuinely, a sound you’ve grown to love. It makes you smile to see him happy and carefree. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“You might have to wake me.”

“Though it pains me to disturb thy slumber, I shall, just for thee. Now, rest.” He brings his other hand to your hair and runs his nails across your scalp, making you shiver and relax even further into him.

“You spoil me.” 

“I know.”

There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

[coichii]

LOVE TO KEEP ME WARM ✭

—(🎧)—> your boyfriend invited you to an ice skating date! cute, right? it could’ve been cuter if you had ever skated before, and not been flailing around like a deer.

pairing - bf!leeknow ♥︎ fem!reader

genre: just fluff ♥︎ (im being fr this time)

word count: 1.4K

warnings: slightly suggestive but literally, like, 4 lines, Minho likes to ice skate in this idk why tho, Cursing, me hating a story just before I post it AUGH THIS IS SO ASSSS

series note : hello !! welcome to part two of my winter series, “winter records of love” where there will be 8 individual short stories for each member :) these stories are based off of songs I deem “winter” feeling ! this story is based off of “love to keep me warm” by Laufey enjoy !!

I love the winter weather, so the two of us can get together

“I don’t know, min. I’ve never ice-skated before.”

He wanted to take you out on a date. A date to the local ice skating rink at that, and you were nervous.

Why were you nervous? Well you had never done it before, and Minho was practically a pro.

He had done a lot of ice skating back in Gimpo, never forgetting how to do it as he aged and practiced being an idol.

It was something he never wanted to forget, the feeling of gliding along the ice bringing him back to the beautiful nostalgia he felt when he thought of home.

He wanted to take you with him, have you experience one of the best and most important past times he has because he loves you, and what better way to let you into his heart than this.

“I can teach you then, jagi.” He assures, hands taking a hold of yours as he tries to convince you, eyes burrowing into yours. “I want to show you this something that means so much to me.”

He knows just how to convince you, his words lights hitting you right in the gut and making you feel like the most special girl in the world.

“Ok, min. I’ll take your word for it.” You smile, his face mirroring yours, hand moving to the small of your back. “You just better not let me fall.”

Minho snickers, mouth curling up into that mischievous smirk you love so much. “No promises.”

You pout slightly, head moving away from the warm crook of his neck and he giggles some more. “Okay sorry, sorry. I’ll make sure to catch you, jagi.”

“Mhm.” You groan, still pouting. “You better.”

“Need me to kiss that pout away?” He asked teasingly, moving his hand further down, making you blush.

“Please do.”

◂—♥︎—▸

“Min, baby? Can you help me put these on?” You ask him, looking up from him where you had been sitting on the bench.

The ice skating rink was near empty, thank god. Only a few couples too sucked into their own world and a mom with her small child, so she was definitely too busy to worry about seeing an idol out with a random girl.

You never liked having to hide your relationship with Minho. You wish you could just show him off in front of the world for everyone to see. Show how you’ve got the most handsome man in the world wrapped around your finger. His idol life doesn’t let that happen, however.

It’s peaceful though, not having to worry about dating rumors as the rink is filled with hushed whispers and a slight, below thirty degree breeze. It’s a lovely day, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Mhm. Of course, honey.” He responds, kneeling at your feet to slip the first shoe on. Your face heats up and how domestic it feels. It makes the promise ring that lays on your ring finger feel like one of marriage.

“Okay.” He says, finishing tying up your shoes with a tiny bow. “I’m going to put the blade on now. After this, hold on to me until we get on the ice.”

You listen carefully to his instructions, stomach starting to bubble with nerves as he carefully slides the blades into their slots.

He stands up, putting on his shoes and blades with ease. “Grab my hand.” and he’s reaching his soft and surprisingly warm hand towards you for you to grab a hold of.

You take his palm into yours, anixety immediately dissolved into nothing as he helped you off the bench, foot touching the ice.

It’s slippery, different from anything you’ve ever felt. You slip for a second, tripping like a new born fawn, but he catches you.

“Woah, Baby.” He chuckles, cheeks red from the frigid, bitter air. “We’re gonna go slow okay.”

He starts to teach you how to glide first, handing holding onto your hips to keep you steady as you practice taking slow strides along the ice.

It’s hard, and you’re wobbling at first, trying to learn how to balance on the slim, metal blade. It takes a while before you’re able to start gliding without wobbling around nearly as much.

“Good job, jagi. I’m going to let go now, okay?” You nod at his words, filled with confidence that you can glide without his help.

He lets go, pushing you ever so slightly to give you the momentum needed to push away.

To your amazement, you start gliding along the ice with skill, able to push off with the ball of your foot and keep the energy needed to keep flowing alongst the ice.

You feel like you understand why Minho loves to ice skate so much. You feel weightless as you drift along the ice. It’s not perfect; you are still just a beginner, but it’s peaceful.

You’re able to do a full circle around the rink before passing Minho again, who was standing still on the ice. You wonder why he wasn’t following you, surely he would want to catch up, right?

When you turn back to inquire, you get a good look into his eyes, but what they say? You have no idea.

Amazement? Admiration? Pride? You have no idea, but to say he looks starstruck would be an understatement.

You slowly make your way over to him, searching his eyes for more answers. “Everything okay, Min?”

He seems to break out of his trance, looking at you with fond and warm eyes before taking your hand into his, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Everything is fine, kitten. Let’s go around some, hmm?” And you graciously accept, locking your arm with his and beginning to skate once again. You’ll question him about the staring later.

It takes you a while to get used to his pace, but you can tell he’s slowing him self down to match your level of expertise. It’s faster though, more calculate and precise. “You go so fast.”

“You think so?” He giggles, looking back at you instead of ahead of him. “Yeah, I can barely keep u-“

You’re cut off by your body suddenly falling towards the ice, bottom half hitting the ground with force, causing Minho to gasp slightly.

“A-are you okay, j-jagi?” He says between labored breaths, laughing out that mischievous laugh of his. He still reaches his hand out towards you for you to grab, which you do.

“I think I’ve officially fucked up my tailbone.” You groan, grabbing ahold of your hip where you had hit. “Awe baby…need me to massage it for you?”

Instinctively, his hands reach for your ass, Minho smiling almost evilly before you swat his hand away.

“I didn’t even hit my ass you perv!” And he just laughs some more, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. “Wanna go around some more before we go? I’ll get you some coffee on the way back.”

You nod in agreement, taking his hand as you do a couple more laps around, talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

Nothing mattering accept for each other.

◂—♥︎—▸

“This fireplace and coffee is positivity the only reason I’m alive now.” You say, snuggling into his side from where you both sit on the floor, thin blanket wrapped around the two of you, practically forming a cocoon as you beg for warmth.

“You’re welcome, jagi.” He winks, always so smug. It reminds you of when he was staring at your earlier on the rink, looking at you with eyes you couldn’t quite dissect.

“Hey, baby?” And he hums in response. “Why were you looking at me like that when we were skating. Y’know when I was going by myself after you taught me? I’m curious.“

He heats up in the cheeks and tips of ears at your question, visually sputtering as he looks for a response.

“Oh, uh. It’s seeing you enjoy something I enjoy so much. Makes me wanna marry you.” He sounds rather confident for someone who’s turning redder than a tomato at his own admission, but you can’t talk much; it’s making you blush too.

“Wasn’t expecting that answer.” you giggle, still a tad bit shocked you couldn’t get that out of him. “What? I don’t show my love well enough to show I want to marry you everyday?”

He’s teasing, and it’s working. It has the heat crawling from your neck to your cheeks once again. “Of course you do. I just like hearing you vocalize it. Love you, Minho.”

He softens, gazing into your eyes before pressing a soft, domestic kiss to your lips.

The fire place, blanket, coffee, they’re all doing what they can to make you feel warm when battling the below freezing temperatures.

But nothing, absolutely nothing makes you feel as warm inside as Minhos love.

Not even close.

back to masterlist

[heyimkana]

Untitled

Pairing: Yuuta Okkotsu x Female Reader

Word Count: 5K (I feel like I should apologize but if you’ve seen my other works, this is considered super short I’m being fr rn)

Summary: Yuuta is your new neighbor, and everyone loves him because of his sweet and kind personality. He has a crush on you, but you’re a married woman, so you can’t reciprocate his feelings the same way. But when your husband starts cheating on you, you can’t help but turn to him for comfort.

Content Warnings: alcohol, swearing, adultery/cheating, age gap (Yuuta is in his early twenties, reader is almost in her thirties), unprotected sex, also Yuuta going down the yandere route at the end I'm not playing so if it's not your cup of tea don't read

A/N: wrote this in one sitting after aleks @yuutito said something about yuuta and older woman that rewired my brain (how dare she went to sleep after casually telling me this like I wasn't going to just just sit there thinking about *redacted*-ing this ver of him in 124352 different positions). i was supposed to be watching my kids playing in my backyard but i wrote this instead. pls don't call child support. this is also supposed to be a drabble 🤡 🔫 i was going to send it to her on discord but a few people were asking if i was dead (girl, only on the inside lol) cause i haven't posted in a while so hi everyone guess who came back from the war (i'll go through my inbox asap i promise ily)

P.S: don't use your brain when you read this cause i certainly didn't use mine when i wrote this only my dick

Yuuta Okkotsu is your new neighbor. 

He lives across the street, and you’re not close to him, not yet. He’s younger than you, much younger than you—a fresh graduate from a reputable university who’s lucky enough to be able to work from home. He doesn’t go out much, but he’s friendly, always leaving good impressions around the neighborhood. Everyone knows Yuuta. Everyone loves Yuuta. 

The first time you asked about him, purely out of curiosity, was when you greeted your neighbor next door, an older woman living alone ever since her late husband passed. She just got home from, what you assumed, another trip to the clinic. You saw him stepping down from her porch after making sure she was okay and bidding her with a polite bow. You traded smiles with him, but he didn’t stop for a conversation. You just saw his face turn scarlet at the sight of you, and he dropped a quick “Hello” before he bolted.

“Who was that?” you asked.

“Oh, he’s our sweet neighbor Yuuta.”

“Sweet neighbor Yuuta,” you laughed a little. “He just moved here like three days ago, and everyone calls him that.”

“Because it’s true!”

“Uh-huh, and what did he do that was so sweet to you?”

“He’s helped me with my chores—washing the dishes, bathing my cat, mowing my backyard. He saw me having trouble crossing the street yesterday, so he offered to take me to the clinic today. Such a sweet boy, that man. Very handsome, too.”

That last part you could agree with. Instantly. 

You see Yuuta occasionally, always by coincidence, like maybe in the morning when you leave the house to put out your trash or grab a newspaper. He always seems like he’s eager to strike up a conversation but gives up before he can, simply because his heart can’t take it. You know he has a crush on you; it’s clear as day. He’s young, and he’s in love. It’s cute. But you’re married and committed, so that’s that. 

You meet him more frequently when he starts going to the same local supermarket. You bumped into him in one of the aisles, with him approaching you first because he saw you struggling to get that ketchup bottle on the top shelf. He’s so polite, and he’s, indeed, very sweet, especially to the elderly, always taking his time to humor them when nobody else seems to pay them any attention. He grabbed the bottle for you, and you ended up chatting with him while waiting in line. He offered to help carry your groceries, and you were thankful because you weren’t sure you could bring everything alone. He walked you to your car, bade you good night, and told you to take care. 

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta. 

Things haven’t been going well with your husband. It’s fight after fight after fight.  At first, your relationship became so strained because you couldn’t conceive even after two years of marriage. The truth is, you don’t want to have a baby, not too soon, not when you still want to focus on living your life, but he wants it terribly, and if you want your marriage to work out, there’s no other choice but to try. You’re somehow glad that the universe seemed to work in your favor, at least for now.

You’re unsure if it’s your fault or his—you don’t have the money or time to get yourself tested. Nevertheless, he kept trying, turning your sex life into a string of dull experiments, one after another. It didn’t come as a surprise that after a while, he gave up. What did come as a surprise was when he started cheating. 

You have reasons to back your assumptions from all the evidence you’ve found along the way. The lipstick stain on his shirt, the hint of female perfume in his car, the way he never left his phone out of reach, terrified of you looking into it. It’s enough. 

It’s Friday night. Your husband won’t be home until late. Still got a bunch of stuff to do at work, he said, which is another way of saying, I got my secretary sucking my dick since you barely even bother anymore. Which is true.

You’re tired of him. You’re tired of having sex with him where he only cares about him cumming inside you and nothing more. You’re so tired of fighting. And now that he's cheating on you, you grow too tired to care. About him. About your marriage. About everything.

So, you head down to a bar one night just to distract yourself. And there he is again. Yuuta. Sitting by himself, watching a football game on the big screen with a beer bottle in hand. He looks rather… lonely, a new face that makes your heart twitch a bit. His solemn look makes him more gorgeous in a way, more mature, more mysterious, and girls love that, don’t they? A slightly dangerous aura to a very sweet face, unapproachable yet inviting.

But that doesn’t last too long because the moment he sees you, his face brightens entirely. He smiles, standing up from his seat to greet you, and you meet him halfway. You end up chatting all night. He’s a fantastic listener, and he’s so kind and thoughtful with each word, comforting you the way you need the most. It’s embarrassing that you nag about your husband like this, but he seems genuinely interested in helping you convey your emotions, and you just can’t stop. It feels so liberating.

Yuuta buys you your favorite drink but also reminds you not to get too much alcohol in your system. You begin to trust him, knowing for certain he won’t take any advantage of you. He walks you home right after. It’s true that he lives right across your house, but he makes sure you get inside safely. He leaves only after he sees you close and lock the door behind you. You spy on him from the window, wanting to see what he does after you’re gone. You see him rubbing a hand over his face, flushed from ears to neck, looking extremely happy that he got to spend time with you. 

He’s so cute, you think to yourself. Like a high school lovesick boy, kind of cute.

Yuuta then notices your husband’s missing car, meaning that you’re alone in the house. He looks sad on your behalf, which is so kind of him to think about your feelings that much. Then he turns upset, as if he was thinking, how dare he stay out so late, leaving her without protection like this. Looking visibly worried, he then texts you, “Let me know if you need anything, okay? My door is open for you anytime.” You smile and promptly reply to him with, “That’s so kind of you, thank you.” 

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

These friendly sorts of private meetings between you and him go on for a while. Your husband often arrives late, usually drunk out of his mind or too tired to stay for a chat, and he heads straight to bed without even giving you a goodnight kiss. It hurts, but it’s fine. The more your husband breaks your heart, the harder Yuuta will try to mend it and make it whole again. And he did. Every night, when you’re lucky enough to see him, you’ll feel like a heavy weight is lifted from your chest. You feel… happy, even in this terrible situation, and it’s all because of him. 

You usually hang out with him at the bar, but sometimes you don’t feel like going for a ten-minute drive, and you choose to just cross the road and knock your fist against his door. No matter what hour you visit, day or night, for a morning latte or evening tea, he always greets you with the prettiest smile.

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

Weeks passed by, and now you spend most of your free time chatting with him, sitting on the couch in his living room, and talking about yourself more than you ever did with your husband. He likes listening to you talk about yourself, and he tells you that you shine so brightly when you talk about the things you’re passionate about. He always stammers out his praises, looking like he’s seconds away from combusting into flames just from calling you beautiful or something. He’s so young, so inexperienced yet passionate when it comes to love and romance, and it shows.

You ask questions about himself, too, and you can understand why it’s addicting for him to watch you speak, because the second he does that, he’s breathtaking. 

You find out that he likes the things you like, he’s watched the movies you’ve seen, and he’s read your favorite books. It’s not just a coincidence, is it? Maybe you’re a match made in heaven. But even so, nothing happens. He’s too respectful, and he makes you respect yourself. You’re married, and he’s a close friend of yours. That’s it.

He’s just your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

One morning, you find a bouquet sitting on your porch. Oh, right, today’s our anniversary. Your husband has this habit of sending you your favorite flowers on your anniversary. He does this every year, which is nice of him, but you really didn’t think he’d send you one this year, seeing how he barely exchanged more than three sentences with you. So now that you receive his flowers, you’re beginning to think, oh, maybe he’s trying to fix things between us. You’re not sure if you want that, though, not anymore. Most of your heart already belongs to someone else, which is terrible since you’re married, but you can’t help it. 

You pick up the flowers anyway; too pretty to be thrown away. You open the card attached to it. I will love you forever, it says, written in his handwriting. The way he wrote the letter f is a little different. Looks like he wrote in a rush, you presume. Either that, or he just didn't care enough. And it’s whatever; you didn’t expect much anyway. You appreciate the thought until your eyes land on the name he wrote.

That’s not my fucking name.

He must have sent flowers to his secretary at the same time and had his card switched. That fucking cheater.

You thought you didn’t care about him anymore, but God, now you’re livid.

Yuuta shows up at the perfect place and at the perfect time. He invites you over to have dinner together at his place. “J-just, you know, as friends,” he says, unconsciously giving you the confirmation that he does not think of you as a friend. Not at all.

So you come over in a beautiful red dress later that evening, and he stares at you, completely in awe, for a good three seconds. “You, umm—” He blushes madly, his head so full of steam he could barely think. “You look like… like a goddess.”

“Thank you,” you simper. That was so corny for him to say, but he meant every word, which makes it endearing. “You look amazing, too.” And he is. God, he looks so handsome in his black buttoned-down shirt, and his parted hair, and his sweet, sweet smile.

I want to fuck the shit out of him.

It’s the monster inside you who speaks it. The part of you that’s been neglected for so long, that’s never been touched in the way you wanted to. And it’s screaming, begging for Yuuta to love you.

But no. We’re friends. We’re just friends, aren’t we, Yuuta?

Yuuta cooks, too, apparently. Every dish looks fucking delicious, and everything else is perfect. The table setting decorated with your favorite flowers. The scented candles with your favorite fragrance set up romantically on top of the cozy fireplace. The soft music playing in the background, a piano instrumental of your favorite song. It’s like a date. A celebration. Like something you should’ve had with your husband today.

“You did all of this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Hmm?”

You gesture to your surroundings. “We’ve read the same books and watched the same movies. Okay, fine, maybe we have the same taste. But this song, those flowers, everything you’ve set up in this room, you did all of these for me, didn’t you?”

He pauses before he tucks his chin, avoiding your gaze. “I just… wanted to make you happy,” he confesses bashfully. “Is it… Is it too much? Do you not like it?”

“Yuuta, of course, I love it.” You stroke his arm, washing his worry away. “I just… I’ve never had someone care about me this much before…”

He melts under your touch, and there’s so much he wants to say, but his lips form nothing but a sad smile. He caresses your face with tender hand, his fingertips quivering slightly when they land on your cheek. His heart must be beating like crazy right now, you smile to yourself, leaning further into his touch to soothe him.

“I would do this every day for you if you let me,” he whispers, promise behind each word. “I would make you happy, so happy you’d forget what sadness feels like. What loneliness feels like.”

That stirs something inside your chest. “And what do you want in return for that?” You slide up a hand, testing his limit.

He stops your hand by covering it with his own. For a second, just for a brief second, he emits a different feeling. There’s intensity behind his gaze that burns you as if he wanted you all to himself. And that’s understandable. No man, especially one who’s so desperately in love like him, would want to share his woman with someone else, but he knows the situation they’re in, doesn’t he? It’s just not possible for you to be together, not now, not completely. Maybe that’s why he switches back in a blink, smiling until his eyes crinkle adorably. “Nothing,” he answers. “As long as we can be friends like this, it’s more than enough for me.”

He’s a terrible liar, you think, slightly amused. It’s cute how he tries so hard to conceal his feelings and you still can read him like an open book.

The food tastes as amazing as it looks, even down to the last bite. You don’t talk about the bouquet, afraid that you’ll ruin the mood, but Yuuta is always so attentive when it comes to you. He asks you what happened, and he hugs you the second he sees tears brimming in your eyes. You’re not sad. You’re fucking angry. And thank God Yuuta is there to let you vent your frustrations. You go as far as telling him almost every little shitty thing your husband did to you behind your back, as well as the slutty secretary that’s been sleeping with him for money. It feels relieving to finally say their names out loud, with so much hatred, so much rage, and to have Yuuta respond with, “No matter how pretty she is, she’s nothing compared to you. Your husband doesn’t deserve you. If I were him, I would’ve—” he stops himself, just in time, flustered and mortified under your gaze.

You’re older. You’re older than him by eight, no, nine years even. You know what’s going to happen if you encourage him to say the words he’s been dying to say. You know what it’s going to do to your relationship. But fuck that. If there were one man in this world who knew how to treat you like you deserve…

It’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

So, by the time the two of you move to the couch with some wine in your system, you lean forward, letting your fingers trace the protruding vein on the back of his hand. His eyes widen at the way your dress does very little to hide your cleavage, but he averts his gaze right away, being the gentleman that he is. But tonight, you want him to be the opposite of that. You don’t want him to be sweet; you want him to let his desire win. There’s a monster hiding inside him, something much more terrible than your own. You sometimes caught its glimpse when he thought you weren’t looking his way. The amount of obsession that fogged his eyes, his fixation over you, turning his sapphire blue eyes so dark, so deep, so intense, like he wanted to have you locked up in his room, tied up and used and thoroughly fucked until you found no strength to stand and no will to escape. It should’ve been a scary thought, but it wasn’t. It was… exciting.

“I want to hear it, Yuu…” Seduction lays thickly in your voice as you lay a gentle hand on his cheek, guiding his eyes back to you. You stare up at him from underneath your lashes with this look in your eyes that makes his breath hitch in his throat. “If you were my husband…” You wet your lip, your tongue a sinful dance to his eyes. “What would you do to make me feel…” You purposely drop your gaze to his lips, letting him catch your message. “…loved?”

You watch him gulp, goosebumps breaking on his skin. You watch his eyes fall to see the way you rub your thumb over the bumps on his knuckles. You watch them turn half-lidded as they linger a second too long on your lips. And you watch him break all control he has over himself, and you let him devour you the way you’ve been wanting him to.

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

And he tastes even sweeter with your cum on his tongue.

It’s happening too fast, yet it feels like it’s not going fast enough. He starts by holding you by the face, slotting his lips against yours, passionate and gentle at the same time. He pulls away for a moment to see your reaction, and when you kiss him back, he lets out this sinful moan that causes your stomach to churn.

He’s so fucking sexy. Even without trying, he is. 

In the next second, he’s eating you out on the couch, spreading your legs, and kneeling on the floor with his head trapped between your thighs, wanting to get as much of you as you can give him. When his tongue circles your clit, and he’s moaning against your heat, it feels so good you almost run away, not used to experiencing this much pleasure. It’s scary how easily he plays with your body. How fast he can tell which part of yours likes to be licked, which ones want to be sucked, and which ones want to be fucked. He moves agonizingly slow, but each touch feels so right that you find no reason to complain. He’s sure to take his time with you, to make you feel loved in the way a wife should be when her husband makes love to her.

He takes hold of your thighs, holding you tight, but you want it even tighter to the point of leaving bruises all over your skin so you can show them to your husband later. His gaze is intense, constantly keeping his eyes on you. Your expression turns him on, making him ache so bad within the constraints of his pants that his eyes turn watery, desperate for release. He’s too ashamed to ask you to touch him, and maybe he doesn’t want to be touched, not yet, he just wants to focus on pleasuring you for now. So he keeps sucking your clit into his mouth, and he slides one hand into his own jeans to grip his cock tightly. He fucks his fist as fast as he fucks your hole with his tongue, groaning, whining, whimpering against your cunt. He’s pathetic. You love it.

You push him down to the carpeted floor after you drench his mouth and chin with your juice, and you push his fingers, coated with his own cum, into your mouth. He curses once at the sight, and it’s so sexy when he does it. After all this time hearing him talk so softly, so innocently, hearing a low, “Fuck, you're making me lose my mind,” tumbling off his lips is such a fucking turn-on. 

You tear yourself away from your dress before you rip open the buttons of his shirt, not caring if the two of you are in the middle of his living room, visible for anyone to see if they dare take a peek through the window. You wish the light in the room were brighter. It would’ve been a lovely show for your husband if he came home to see you riding another man’s cock, using Yuuta to your own satisfaction, and watching him make you cum the way he couldn’t. 

Yuuta, oblivious to your thoughts, is gasping out your name, one arm hiding his beet-red face while his other one is gripping your thigh. “W-wait,” he flinches, his breathing tattered. “You’re going—too fast—”

You know you are, but it’s so good that you can’t stop. His cock rubs your walls so deliciously as if it was made solely for this purpose. You cum so fast, so hard, and he follows almost right away, unable to hold it even longer when he sees you looking like that when you cummed. 

Your body is still trembling when he suddenly lifts you off his cock and guides you to his face. “Ride me again,” he says, begging. “Please, Angel, I want to taste you again.” And you do, sitting on his face and letting him lick, suck, and lap at everything that seeps out of you.

He’s staring at your swollen clit, licking his lips and seemingly dazed as he rubs his thumb softly over it. “I’m sorry I came inside you,” he says, genuinely feeling guilty about it despite you giving him permission to.

You shiver, still feeling so sensitive for receiving so much stimulation at once. “It’s okay. I can’t get pregnant anyway,” you laugh it off. “I haven’t gotten myself checked yet, but we’ve been trying for two years, and nothing has happened yet, so…”

His gaze darkens. “I see,” is the only thing he utters before he scoops you in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom. You’re surprised; you really thought that was it. Both of you came twice already in, like, fifteen minutes. That’s enough, isn’t it? But he’s still young, and he has a lot of energy that leaves him insatiable. If you let him, he’ll have you for the entire night.

It’s not a bad thing, not at all.

So you kneel in front of him on the bed, bite the corner of your lip to drive him even more insane, and stroke him slowly with your hand. “You still want to fuck me?”

“Yes,” he breathes out, the muscles in his abdomens tautening. “Yes, Ma’am, please…”

Ma’am? You almost laugh. How does he keep getting cuter and cuter?

“Okay.” You reward him with a little kiss on the head of his cock, robbing a soft whimper out of his mouth. Lying down on the bed, you spread your legs, sliding two fingers down your body to do the same to your cunt. “Come here and love me again, Yuu.”

He obliges in a split second. Yuuta has so much love to give, and he lets his mouth, his tongue, and his cock paint a perfect picture on your body.

Everything feels like heaven until he suddenly stops in the middle of thrusting his hips, earning himself an impatient whine. His blue eyes have lost their warm, pretty light. They’re as dark as the night, but lust and greed are the perfect colors for him. He sits on his knees, resting your ankles on his shoulders, breathing heavily. 

“Yuuta?”

He’s not listening, too captivated by the way his tip slides in and out so easily. You’re so fucking wet for him; it’s embarrassing, but Yuuta would take a picture of you like this in a heartbeat, with your wedding ring still wrapped around your finger and his cock sheathed deep inside you, should you allow him to.

He splays his hand over your stomach, giving a little pressure to your womb. You squirm, suddenly feeling like you no longer have control over anything, over him, not like the way you did before. It’s frightening and thrilling at the same time. “Yuuta, what are you—” Your jaw turns slack at the sensation when he thrusts inside, just once, just to see how far it goes within your walls. He’s so hard and thick and throbbing that you could practically feel him poking from inside of your stomach. And perhaps he’s thinking the same thing, his eyes glistening when he feels a bulge forming under his palm. He swallows. He looks… hungry.

“You said you couldn’t get pregnant,” he says, running a tongue across his lower lip, his eyes still fixated on the way you’re taking him so well, all stretched out and tight around him. “You know what I think?” He pulls himself out completely, shivers in his breath. “I think you’re wrong.” He slams his hips forward so abruptly, and with so much force, you have one hand shooting past your head to keep a safe distance away from the headboard. 

“Yuuta—” You gasp out, struggling to match his rhythm. “Wait—”

He only smiles a little, chuckles a little. He’s so far gone. He leans forward until you’re pressed chest to chest, folding you in half before he laces his fingers together with yours. “I think you can get pregnant.” He moves closer to your ear, whispering with his lips caressing your lobe, “And I’m going to show you how.”

He fucks the breaths out of you, swallowing each cry with his mouth, embracing you so tightly you can feel his heart beating against yours. “I’m sorry,” he pants, “It hurts, doesn’t it? I—” He’s interrupted with a low groan, feeling you clenching around him.“—really am sorry—” He smashes his lips against yours, smothering you with his kisses, too. “I know I’m being too rough, but I can't—”  He has one hand gripping the top of his headboard, giving him more support to drive his hips even deeper. “I can’t—stop—” He fucks you again, and again, harder each time until you find yourself unable to make sounds. “You’re so good... You feel so good around me... My angel…” You’re being folded, handled, trapped, and he fucks you until you’re drained, until you’re filled, until he’s spent. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Just a little bit more..." He kisses your forehead and your cheek to soothe you down, cradling your head as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His hips start to move erratically. “Don’t ever leave me… I will love you forever, so—ah, God—” He chokes out a sob when he feels you spasming around him again, reeling in another wave of orgasm that hit you so intensely, you see white.

It takes him a little over an hour until he finally lets you go. For now, at least.

But once he gives you a chance to breathe, he cleans you up so gently, dabbing a warm towel over your skin, peppering kisses as soft as butterfly wings down your back, your thighs, your chest, before ending his journey at your stomach. He rubs the supple flesh of your belly and smiles, completely satisfied after giving you his everything. And it scares you a little bit because… You might really end up getting pregnant this time.

“I have to go before he comes home,” you say, feeling your body ache terribly when you try to raise yourself off the bed. They’re not shown vividly yet, but there will be bruises in the morning in places you’re not sure you can cover. 

Yuuta hugs you from the side when you barely have one foot on the floor, whispering against the bare skin of your hip, “I’m not letting you go.”

It makes you happy. You feel so wanted, so loved, even after all the affection he gave you all night. The truth is, you don’t want to leave. Ever. To walk into your own home after experiencing what heaven feels like… It would be torturous.

“I wish I could stay with you, too.”

“You do?” He looks up with big, round eyes, hope residing in each one of them. “Would you stay with me forever?”

“If I could,” you reply and it’s true. God, if only you could stay forever with him, let him love you this way, forever. That would be perfect, wouldn't it?

“That makes me happy…” He takes both of your hands, kissing you on each wrist before he does the same to your palms. “That makes me so happy…” 

It tickles, so you laugh a little. He makes the same sweet sound, the sound of a boy in love. 

“I really need to go, though…” You whisper, hypnotized when he starts pushing your digit past his lips. It’s warm and wet inside his mouth, waking up the butterflies in your stomach. He keeps his eyes on you, looking so sensual as he sucks around your finger, enveloping it from base to tip. “Yuuta…”

“I understand.” He pulls away, ending it with a kiss. He seems disheartened, his smile doesn't shine as bright anymore and it hurts you. "I guess you left me with no choice."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He returns your embrace, just one more time before you have to let him go. “Can you turn around for me, please? I want to give you something,” he softly smiles. “A present. It will be quick, I promise.” 

You do as he says, excited at the thought of it. What will he give you? Knowing him and how he went through so much effort to prepare a dinner for two friends, you just know it would be something incredibly romantic. Yuuta kisses your nape, open-mouthed and lingering. You nibble on your lip to suppress your moan as he trails his lips from between your shoulder blades down to your spine. 

“Yuuta,” you sigh, squeezing your thighs together. You’re aching for him again, and it’s dangerous. Your husband can come anytime soon. “I know what you want, and really, I wish I could stay,” you say from the bottom of your heart, looking over your shoulder to see him, and you’re immediately answered by a kiss. He presses his chest to your spine, one hand cupping half of your neck and your jaw to keep you in place so he can deepen the kiss. His mouth moves with fervor, filling you up with desire, and if it weren’t for the sound of your husband’s car moving into your driveway, you would’ve let him take you there for another hour or two.

“I need to leave. Now.” You break away to gather your clothes quickly. Except you can’t.

You can’t move your hands.

Robbed out of your balance, you fall face-first to the floor. Your breath catches, your heart plummeting to your stomach when you realize you have your hands tied behind your back. You feel something rough grazing against your skin. There’s a rope ensnaring your wrists together, and it’s digging painfully into your flesh every time you struggle to break free. 

Panic rises quickly to your chest. You look up, your body froze with terror at the sight of him smiling at you. 

He’s not your sweet neighbor Yuuta. Not anymore.

This is the monster you caught a glimpse of before, in full form. His handsome features suddenly feel unrecognizable, not when you can no longer witness the warmth in his eyes.

What is happening? You breathe fast, frightened beyond your mind. Why is he doing this?

“I told you I’m not letting you go,” he says, walking slowly toward you. With every step he takes, your urge to escape grows bigger.

The second the dread sinks in, you part your lips to scream for help, but he clasps a hand over your mouth just in time. “Sshh shhh shhh,” he whispers, bringing you back to your feet. “We wouldn’t want your husband to find out, would we?” 

You try to kick and toss your body around, but he’s strong, much stronger than you could ever imagine him to be. From your peripheral vision, you see him taking out a syringe from a drawer behind him, fitted with a hollow needle to inject the clear liquid into your skin. You feel your heart pounding in your throat, your scream muffled as he sinks it into your skin. “There, there. Off you go, honey,” he whispers in your ear, as you begin to lose your will to fight. Your consciousness slowly wanes away with each second passing by. “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. It’s only scary at the beginning, I promise.” He tosses the syringe away, now empty. “Oh, I almost forgot to ask. Did you like the card I gave you?”

The card? What card?

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I’m sorry for tricking you like that,” he says with a little pout. “Truly, I am. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I had to do something to push you over the edge. I knew you liked me too from the start, but you wouldn’t make the first move. You kept staying faithful even when your husband was cheating on you like that. I admire you for that,” he sighs, utterly smitten by you, but only for a second before his tone drops. “But I was getting impatient, you see. And I knew you were, too. I watched your favorite movies. I read your favorite books. I learned everything about you and did everything you liked, but you still wouldn’t leave your husband for me. So you left me with no choice. I have to make you understand,” he slides his hand up your stomach, passing the valley between your breasts before he chooses to linger there, squeezing, teasing, pleasing. “That no one can touch you like I do. No one can love you like I do.”

You can feel him kissing your neck, licking a stripe up from your collarbone to the spot below your ear. “It was quite tricky copying his handwriting like that. There’s one letter I still can’t do very well even now. But it was enough to trick you, so I think everything’s fine in the end,” he chuckles, the sound filling your chest with horror, though you could barely register it now, not with the drug flowing in your system.

“You asked me what I would do to make you feel loved if I were your husband.” He carries you closer to the window, letting you see, with all the little power you have left, your husband closing the door of his car. Yuuta embraces you from behind, his hands tangled around your waist as he lets you rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m gonna show it to you.” You watch your husband make his way to your porch, oblivious to what’s happening in the dark room across the street. “I’m gonna love you, Angel. I will love you forever. With all my heart. And I’m gonna take my time. I’ll be so thorough with you that once I’m done, you won’t be able to spend a second of your life without me.” 

Your husband closes his front door, and with it goes your last chance of escaping, if there was even one.

You start losing strength in your legs, in your arms, but you’re still able to cry, and so you do just that. It won’t help you, nothing will help you, no one will help you, and no one will know what he’s doing to you, not when everyone thinks so fondly of him. 

“Oh, Sweetheart, don’t cry.” He kisses your tears away, landing an even softer one on your temple. “Don’t be afraid of me, my love. After all, it’s just me.” He meets your eyes in the reflection of his window, smiling with his hand holding the front of your neck.

“Your sweet neighbor Yuuta.”

***

[2hightocare]

LOVE WAGER! 02

Synopsis: The concept of love resurfaces as you both agree to center your psychology project on the premise that love is a choice. You propose an intriguing idea to Jungkook: he must exert every effort to make you fall in love with him within a month, to back up his belief.

Pairings: jungkook x fem!reader

Genre: college au. strangers to friends to lovers. angst/romantic comedy.

Warnings: mentions of divorce parents, neglectful parents, mentions of depression, banter, cussing, ex girlfriends, flashbacks, jungkook low key being super mean and discarding people’s feelings, jungkook hard-key depressed, implications of sex.

a/n: hai… this is so long overdue— exams month is coming and I had the biggest writers block fr but here’s my beloved babies. Song of the chapter— “love is embarrassing” by Olivia Rodrigo.

prev chapter! series masterlist!

Love.

Love is an intricate subject in its own right. Scientists elucidate it through the interplay of three cerebral chemicals: noradrenaline, dopamine, and phenylethylamine.

That's how Jungkook perceived love. He didn't subscribe to the notion of butterflies in the stomach or the fluttering heartbeat as justifications for love. To him, love was a scientific phenomenon, a complex emotion akin to sadness or jealousy-if he could evade such feelings, he would spare no effort.

But why did his stomach churn as if his organs were performing tiny somersaults whenever he gazed at you a tad too long? You were engrossed in the menu, pondering whether to get a burger or a slice of pizza.

Seated beautifully in your loose red Formula One shirt, Jungkook couldn't fathom how you managed to make that oversized shirt look so good.

Jungkook's eyes dropped to the ribbon in your hair, wondering why someone who was a full-on adult looked pretty, adorable even-with a red ribbon tied into a beautiful bow contrasting your skin and eyes. Your long eyelashes entranced him. He felt his stomach do something, a turn? Maybe his stomach was upset-he thought to himself.

Jungkook couldn't believe he found himself willingly sharing a table with you at the same dinner two years ago, he almost killed you at. He had moved to Emberhill U two years ago, ever since he moved out from his mom's house. Jungkook's life had gone to hell, which is exactly what his mind would tell him ever since his mom got a boyfriend. To make matters worse, he now had step-siblings.

He hated every bit of it. He wasn't jealous whatsoever.

It was the fact that his mom seemed to forget he even existed in the first place. Jungkook was hurt. He tried not to dwell or cry about it since he was a big boy-that's what he told himself now, pushing twenty-two, but still, part of his already broken heart shattered more.

How could your mom forget about her child? How could she not care about her only flesh and blood? He never told her that ever. Talking about his feelings with his mom was like talking to a brick wall that nothing could pass through. Plus, Jungkook wasn't good at communicating or talking about his feelings anyway. He found it embarrassing to lay yourself out there for someone to be able to discard you at any given moment.

Jungkook's dad wasn't any different as wellbeing too busy with work to even call him to ask his son if he was okay or how school is going. But the calls or text messages never came. Jungkook was used to it. It was his everyday. It was more shocking when he did call, but he wouldn't know what that would feel like since he never called ever since the divorce. Jungkook knew the divorce wasn't his fault whatsoever. His therapist—that his high school counselor made him go to—basically talked his ear off about how anything that happened wasn't his fault, but still, it felt like it was.

Ever since everything went down, his parents seemed to forget they had a child, who still needed them.

One advantage of his situation was the freedom to do as he pleased without his parents' interference. However, the downside was their lack of concern for his activities or just him in general. Jungkook was certain: if his parents didn't love him, who else in the world would? So, he didn't believe in love. When the two people meant to demonstrate unconditional love failed to do so, he doubted anyone else would. He would like to say that it didn't affect him and it's been years since everything, but deep down it still did.

Jungkook experiences a pang of guilt every time he looks at you. Perhaps it's the way he behaved when he first met you, the influence of the romantic comedy in your hands causing him to lash out at you.

Something about your ribbons makes him feel that you’re too innocent and naive for this world—part of him wants to shield you from its harsh realities, while another part wants to disillusion you about the cruelty of the world and the disparity between love in fairy tales and reality.

"Are you done daydreaming?" You say, interrupting his thoughts. Jungkook shakes his head, attempting to banish his thoughts before raising an eyebrow at your curious doe eyes. "I wasn't daydreaming," he states proudly, prompting a scoff from you, a grin tugging at Jungkook's lips.

"It was either daydreaming or checking me out since you were staring at me for a hot minute, but I decided otherwise since you have a girlfriend," you quip nonchalantly before calling the waiter to take your order.

"First of all, I don’t have a girlfriend, and second of all, what if I was checking you out?" Jungkook challenges. He didn’t know why he enjoyed getting on your nerves—any other person he would probably flip off and never give them the time of day, but instead, here he was with you doing the complete opposite.

"What happened to the girl from the dinner?" You question, your eyes finally meeting his brown ones. A glint of something passes over his eyes before disappearing as quickly as you saw it—so you thought maybe you had imagined it.

"Who?" Jungkook says, tilting his head to the side as he leans forward, his elbows propped on the table. "the one you mentioned to me two years ago? The one you discussed intimately," you mimic his voice. Jungkook's smile widens, amused by your jest.

"If you want to know so badly, we broke up—well, she broke up with me," Jungkook clicks his tongue, observing your expressions closely. He notices the creases of your forehead whenever you are thinking or the way you bite your lower lip to contain a smile that’s threatening to come out, each time Jungkook says something dumb.

"Oh, let me guess, she wanted love letters and sweet words whispered into her ear," you mock him, knowing he said that he didn’t need to do any of that to keep a girl. "You’re annoying, Ribbons," Jungkook shakes his head with a low soft chuckle.

You watch him pick up the menu and start scanning the items as you observe him. You notice how his jaw clenches momentarily before relaxing, his tongue poking on the inside of his cheek, making you wonder if you angered him—and if you did, maybe you should do it more often since he looked hot—

Record scratch.

Your mind was playing games with you the more you watched the raven-haired boy. The more you realized he was the epitome of the boy you imagined whenever you were reading a book, the dimples on his cheeks, the scar right above his cheekbone, and the mole underneath his bottom lip had you wanting to ask him for his whole life story.

He also looks like those cute love song playlists that had all your favorite songs in them, but you knew from the way he acts around you, it was definitely a hard no and maybe you were delusional after all. So you try hard to shove those ideas into the back of your brain as far as you could.

"I knew that you couldn’t keep a girlfriend," you shrug, prompting a gasp from him as he jokingly places a hand on his heart, as if you had just dealt him a mortal blow.

"Wow, YN doesn’t think I’m boyfriend material?" Jungkook gasps dramatically, shaking his head.

"You’re literally everything that's not boyfriend material," you throw your head back with a laugh, observing his widened eyes with amusement evident on his face. "Ouch," Jungkook scoffs dramatically.

"What makes you say I’m not boyfriend material?" he says, scanning the room for a waiter but finding none, before redirecting his attention to you.

"You don’t believe in love, that's one way to start," you point out, eliciting a hum of agreement from him. "What's that got to do with being a good boyfriend? I assure you that a good boyfriend isn’t necessarily head over heels in love," Jungkook says, as if imparting a valuable lesson, while your facial expression betrays you.

"The fuck? You literally hate everything related to love. Being a good boyfriend means doing cliche shit you hate doing so much, how could you possibly be boyfriend material?" you assert proudly, prompting an eye-roll from him.

"All that stuff is just superficial shit that everyone collectively agreed on. It’s just embarrassing how people put themselves go through all that just to make someone lik—“

"Love," you interject, earning yourself a glare from across the table.

"Like I was saying, I stand by the fact all those stupid romantic gestures are pointless. Society basically romanticized love and set up unrealistic expectations— everything just leads to heartbreak and disappointment," Jungkook continues, you watch how the hard expression on his face wavers to something more… sad, like he was talking from experience.

"Have you ever experienced love?" you inquire, not sure why since you guys weren’t even friends in the first place—the only reason you found yourself sitting with him willingly was because of psychology class.

"What?" Jungkook is caught off guard by the sudden question.

"Have you ever been in love?" you reiterate, observing his expression harden once more. "No, never, and I don’t plan to," Jungkook shrugs, going back to his usual cocky self in a blink of an eye, prompting yet another eye-roll from you, marking thirty-eighth.

You didn’t get the chance to reply since a waiter came to your table, apologizing for taking so long to get to us before taking our orders.

You and Jungkook decided on sharing a pizza, and you obviously ordered a coke, which got Jungkook joking about how he isn’t trying to make you choke again, which had the waiter shifting uncomfortably beside you both while Jungkook had an eating-shit grin on his face.

“That’s not what he meant!” You chuckled nervously, your face reddening, matching your shirt from how embarrassed you are.

“No, it’s okay, you don't have to explain,” the waiter said before excusing himself.

The moment the waiter was out of your line of vision, you turned your head to the boy who’s sucking in his lips, trying not to laugh.

“What the fuck was that?” You glared, your eyebrows scrunching. “What, you both just have a dirty mind,” Jungkook shrugged, the grin on his face making you shift in your chair.

Jungkook's aura was unlike anything you’d ever stumbled upon, and you hated it. It made you want to know more about him than you should, the way he carried himself and talked had you questioning why? He wasn’t so different from other boys you had met, besides the fact that he spoke his mind as if no one was around, not caring if he hurt your feelings or offended you. It was refreshing in some way, but it still made you want to pull your hair out.

“Alright… let’s change topics, Mr. Anti-Romantic,” you say, watching his smile widen.

“What?” You stared at him, trying to think what could possibly make him smile that much. You were sure your face would hurt if you possibly smiled that much.

“Nothing, I just find it extremely hot when you call me that, it turns me on,” Jungkook said, leaning forward.

Okay, that’s not exactly what you were imagining him saying. Your eyes widened momentarily, feeling your heartbeat rise. The smile not leaving his face had you feeling hot, as if the room temperature suddenly increased.

“Uh… so, project,” you blinked rapidly.

“Yeah, project,” Jungkook agreed, smile still on his face as he saw your cheeks flush with a reddish color.

“So, any ideas about what our project can be about?” You said, grabbing the hair tie around your wrist and using it to make a ponytail, taking the ribbons out before tying your hair.

Two small strands fell from your face, tempting Jungkook's fingers to reach out and tuck them behind your ear. He wanted to slap himself back to reality since he never in his life thought those thoughts, not even with Haneul, whom he dated for five months, setting a record. He still remembered the reason she gave him for breaking up. It was laughable.

“Jungkook, you don’t even look at me with love, and I know you said when we first met that it was only attraction, but I thought you would change over time the more we hung out,” Haneul whimpered, tears gathering around her eyes as Jungkook just stared at her, not knowing what to say. Because yes, he did tell her it was all attraction, and it’s still only attraction to this day for him.

“You don’t hold my hand or give me kisses, you don’t even give me flowers,” Haneul cried, her voice cracking with each word she said.

“I told you, I don’t do that stuff,” Jungkook said. He felt bad for her since he knew she deserved better, but he didn’t feel bad about not doing those things for her since he told her he wouldn’t and never would do them. And she agreed, so why was she crying about it now when she agreed to it five months ago?

“I know you did, but I thought you just… fuck, you haven’t even introduced me to your family,” a crack is heard from Jungkook's heart, but not for the girl in front of him crying her heart out, but for himself, because yeah, he had no family he could take a girl home to, since he had no home at all. He had a house, but it was as empty as he was.

“Haneul, I told you—“

“Yeah, that you will never do that! I get it, okay? I get it, but fuck, how can you not care? Do you not feel anything when it comes to me?” The girl wept more, which had Jungkook sighing.

“I like you, Haneul,” Jungkook replied. “I love you, Jungkook, can’t you tell…” she whispered, a choked sob leaving her lips as she looked up at the man who’s just standing in front of her like nothing.

“I’m sorry,” that's all Jungkook said… because what else could he say? It was either that or that he didn’t love her, but to not take it personally since he didn’t love anything?

So instead, he said the only thing he could muster without his voice cracking.

“Love,” Jungkook finally says, his statement catching you off guard, widening your eyes in surprise.

“Love? I thought you hated love,” you raise an eyebrow, perplexed by his sudden declaration.

“I do, but love is psychological. We can discuss how we, as humans, have the ability to choose whether we fall in love or not,” Jungkook articulates.

“That’s not how love works, Jungkook,” you retort, to which he responds with a disapproving nod. “It does, though,” Jungkook rebuts.

“It doesn’t. Love is not something we can choose and pick, it just happens,” you try to explain.

“You believe love just happens, but I disagree, respectfully,” Jungkook adds, causing you to tilt your head curiously, intrigued by his perspective. “I’ve held on for too long without being in love since I said I wouldn’t fall in love,” he concludes.

“That’s because you haven’t met anyone you actually want to try with… maybe you just haven’t met your soulmate,” you suggest, annoyance evident on Jungkook’s face the moment you mention the concept of soulmates.

“Soulmates don’t exist, ribbons,” Jungkook snickers.

“I beg to differ,” you cross your arms, adamant in your belief. “I don’t know what fantasy lovey-dovey world you live in, but soulmates are just made up,” Jungkook shrugs casually.

“Maybe you are right about the fact that you get to choose who you fall in love with since I know for a fact I would never fall in love with you,” you spitefully state.

Jungkook nods, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth that catches him off guard. Perhaps it was the fact that someone had just openly admitted they wouldn’t want to love him—reminding him of the kid he once was, desperately begging his parents to love him. But wasn’t this what he was trying to prove in the first place, that love was a choice? Then why did it hurt to hear you say those words out loud?

“Atta girl, finally got it huh,” Jungkook smirks, ignoring the pang of hurt in his chest. “Alright then, if we did do that for our project, let’s say we argued that love is a choice and it doesn’t happen. How do we prove that?” you question.

Silence fills the table as you both brainstorm ideas, trying to back up this argument.

“I got it,” you say, as if a light bulb just appeared on top of your head. Jungkook nods, encouraging you to continue.

“What if we spend a month with you doing absolutely everything to make me fall in love with you? And I mean do all that cliché, romantic shit I love that you hate so much. Since I know for a fact that I choose not to fall in love with you, we can discuss how, even if a person does everything right, you still get to choose who you love,” you explain carefully, ensuring he understands your proposal.

“It’s a good idea for the project; we could use ourselves to illustrate how we pick and choose who we love, like you said,” you try to convince him, giving him the benefit of the doubt after he convinced you of his beliefs. You knew you would never fall for him, even if he did everything you ever read in books and saw in movies.

“We can call it the Love Wager,” you finish, scanning his face as he contemplates the idea.

Jungkook’s mind races, unsure if he likes the idea or absolutely hates it. On one hand, it could earn him a good grade, given the strong rationale behind it, using yourselves as an experiment to support your argument. But on the other hand, the thought of spending a month doing everything he had vocally despised for the past five years gave him the heebie-jeebies.

“Alright then, the Love Wager operation starts,” Jungkook agrees instead, while you clap happily. “Oh my god yay, this might give me an A plus,” you celebrate, giggling as Jungkook raises an eyebrow.

“It’s a long story; I just hate psychology,” you say, to which he nods in response.

“Well, we have a month together, so start explaining why you hate it so much,” Jungkook says nonchalantly, and before you could reply, the waiter hurriedly returns to your table, apologizing for the wait, mentioning the kitchen’s struggle with the influx of orders. But you keep your eyes on the boy in front of you, who looks at the waiter, reassuring him it’s okay.

The smell of fresh, hot pizza fills your nostrils as you finally snap out of your trance, looking down at the pizza the waiter is sliding onto the table, cautioning you both that it is extremely hot. The waiter continues to place all the food you ordered on the table before leaving with a bow.

“I’m starving, oh my god,” Jungkook moans as he picks up a slice of pizza and takes a bite, ignoring the steam.

“How is that not burning your tongue, oh my…” you begin to say, but you’re interrupted as you take a bite of your own slice, immediately regretting it as you burn your tongue. “Ah, ah, ha,” you drop the pizza onto your plate, sticking your tongue out and fanning your mouth with your hand. A small laugh escapes from Jungkook as you shoot him a snarky glare.

“He literally just told you it was hot, ribbons,” Jungkook says, grabbing a napkin from the container and reaching over to wipe some sauce off your lips and face. The fanning from your hand halts as you stare at his focused face, feeling yourself heat up again, but this time it’s not your mouth—it’s your cheeks.

“Why did you just do that?” you ask before you can stop yourself, as he sits back down properly. “I’m starting my boyfriend material journey, you know, since the project?” Jungkook says casually, taking another bite of pizza, watching you in surprise as you shockingly observe him not being fazed by the burning food in his mouth, chewing happily.

“Oh… we’re starting right now?” you gesture to the table between you both, indicating ‘right now’. “Yeah, we only have one month, let’s make it worth it,” he says, diving back into his food.

God, this month was definitely going to be a roller coaster.

💌taglist— @brune77e @cherryfragrancx @inlovewithharutoo @jcnggukie @vkjmjjk @seokjinspinkslipper @jayjahni @mxrecg @suciedad-divina @peterstarkchrishiddleston @aiiselle90210 @lovingkoalaface @httpjeonlicious @thekookiedealer @somehowukook @taiwan0618 @gwsjungkookie @chxrrybangtan @seokout @junecat18 @joonsanswer @ahgasegotarmy116recs @jkmylove97 @letjungcoook7 @skzthinker @whoa-jo @ziyaexe @kooloveys @sneezedonthebeat @parkinglot-nights @btsffreader92 @jjeonjjk7 (lmk if you wanna get taken off)

[irishmammonagenda]

hii , do you mind doing diavolo x m!court jester reader?

i saw a post with a king x jester trope and i could not get it out of my head 😭 it can be headcanons or a short drabble, wtv you want!!

hihi! this is such an interesting thingy to write and i apologise for taking a while to write it, writing male characters is fun but lowkey kind of hard for me😔✊

i also dont know what jesters do and my knowledge is watching horrible histories when i was younger so this is widely inaccurate heehee

no but fr i think in another universe diavolo would be a jester tbh

dividers by @/ioveartfilm

grma for requesting <3!!!!

Funny Funny (I'm in love with you.) Diavolo X M!Court Jester Reader

He laughs at your jokes like a man on crack

You're his favourite employee in the castle and your room is right beside his chambers (he made sure of it)

You sneak into his room for sleepovers sometimes. Barbatos has given up on propriety.

The Little Ds help you with your super cool jester preformances. They're surprisingly good at dancing and balancing plates.

You use the Little Ds as juggling balls sometimes.

Diavolo has promoted you as much as possible, bro atp people think you're a consort instead of court jester.

like they will full on go up to you to pitch ideas or put in a good word for Diavolo since he'll listen to you.

Barbatos also forces you to tell Diavolo news that'll make him angry or upset since he takes it a lot better coming from you.

Unrelated but you'd 100% be friends with Solomon and Thirteen. Which is awkward when theyre in the same room together.

Apart from Barbatos and Lucifer occassionally disciplining you, you are untouchable.

"Your Heighness...." A noble bows in front of Diavolo's throne. Why that scumbag had requested an audience with the Demon Prince, you had no idea. Technically you weren't even supposed to be listening in, but no one had noticed you on the chandelier yet so that was their problem.

And your problem when Barbatos eventually found out. Said Demon standing beside Diavolo's throne.

You watch as Diavolo nods along, uncharacteristically serious. "What do you need?"

"Well...I believe if we stopped trading pickles to the humans it would be a lot less daunting to create them-"

You blink. What the fuck. Bro requested an audience for this? Damn, this was so unserious it was good material for your next stand up routine.

You watch from overhead as Diavolo blinks, his wings stiffening ever so slightly, the crimson-haired prince raises an eyebrow. "You want to stop trading pickles to the Human Realm?"

"Yes, My Lord." The noble responds earnestly.

"No."

The demon blinks, astounded.

"Excuse me, may I ask you repeat that, my Lord?"

"No. Human's love pickles. They're our main traders. It'd sour relations even more." Diavolo says, you watch as Barbatos takes a deep breath, and as the Demon Prince begins to get annoyed.

You stiffle a laugh at the noble squandering, which leads to your downfall as you move your hands over your mouth, taking them off of your jester hat.

Which falls.

All the way down to the ground.

The bells on the hat jingle.

Barbatos' eyes are trained on you like a hawk. So are Diavolo's, but his eyes are more of an excited child on christmas than anything else.

The noble's eyes widen.

"Sup?" You grin awkwardly. The noble, sensing a way out of this pickle debate uses this as an excuse to say his goodbyes and leave.

Diavolo doesn't even notice. Barbatos just shakes his head ever so slightly.

"That guy was in a real pickle...!...Haha...right guys?" You laugh awkwardly, and despite the fact you're not funny at all, the Prince cackles like it was the best stand up routine he'd ever heard in his life.

You were currently at a banquet talking to the Little D's about your next juggling stunt when a demon approached you.

"Hello." She smiles, her red lips glossy.

"Sup."

"Well, I was wondering if I could ask a favour or two....." She looks hesitant but composed.

You nods your head, the bells on your hat jingling. You're convinced Diavolo put them on there to serve as some sort of cat bell.

"Well....I had an idea for expanding our trades of magical herbs to human world Alaska...since a few witches have been living on quote on quote 'lesbian cottages' there."

You whistle. "Damn. Do they have huskies?"

"A lot of them, from what I hear." She nods, her tail wrapping around her leg absentmindedly. "Could you put in good word for Lord Diavolo for me?"

"Sure?" You tilt your head, the bells jingle slightly.

The demon grins, "Thanks he'll listen to you more thoroughly!"

Little D No.2 pops out from your breast pocket. "That's because everyone thinks you two are gay for eachother."

You yank him out of there. "Go annoy Mammon."

"Sir yes sir!"

At this point you should be the Avatar of Pride.

"Sire. I'm telling you. He just stabbed several upper class demons with a rusty spoon!" The demon knight urges Diavolo, who isn't even looking at him.

"You expect me to believe that?" Diavolo tilts his head. You nod vigorously from where you're covered in entrails and holding a rusty spoon in your hands. "MC wouldn't hurt a fly."

The knight looks from you to him with a lax jaw.

What.

The.

Fuck.

That knight's putting his two weeks in now icl.

^^ idea from that one person on tiktok (sirleoninsunglasses) i cant get it out of my head.

can you tell im a merlin fan.

gang idk what noble people talk about i made these discussions up as i went along but i can assure you that pickle trading and lesbian witches in alaska are actually the only thing nobles talked about in history i pinky promise

[cloudshapedpatch]

Burgers and Lilies

Reth x Reader one shot

(canon compliant, no spoilers, ft. Shepp!Hassian)

Rated Teen for some spicy stuff at the end ;)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Y/N’s hands were steady as she pulled the arrow back, feeling the pull of the bow deep in her shoulder, just like Hassian had taught her. The wind was gentle, rustling her hair and the grass gently as she focused on her prey. She knelt there, still as a tree, lining up the shot. The unsuspecting chapaa wouldn’t feel a thing. 

She heard a rustle in the grass behind her, and the chapaa must have heard it too, because it perked its ears, chirped, and ran in the opposite direction. 

“Sorry.” She heard a sweet voice behind her, and she could never be mad when he sounded so genuinely remorseful. 

“Its okay, Reth.” Y/N lowered the bow and put the arrow back in its holding case with the rest. She stood then, and turned around to face him with a smile. “There are plenty of others.”

Her smile only grew wider as she saw the picnic basket he was holding, and he held it up a little higher as he spoke. “When you didn’t come in for lunch like you usually do, I figured you were lost in the hunt again.”

“I never know how much time has passed when I’m out here.” Y/N said sheepishly. 

“I know. Should we sit?”

“Don’t you have to get back to the Inn? The dinner rush will be starting soon.”

“Ashura told me to take my time.” Reth was already getting comfortable in the grass, so she followed suit and watched him take out the sandwiches carefully. 

Y/N was glad for Reth’s company. Reth had been one of the first people she properly met after materializing in the ruins. She didn’t know much about what was supposed to be normal for humans, but she figured by how Jina, the resident Human Expert, had reacted, it wasn’t normal to appear in a cloud of pink mist and sparkles. At least, that’s not how the Majiri operated. Most of what she had learned about their way of life had come from Reth and his sister, Tish. They had taken a special liking to her almost immediately. 

“Copper for your thoughts?” Reth said, with his mouth full. She smiled at his boyish nature. 

“Just thinking about how much has changed for me since coming here. I’m sure my life before was very different than this.” She could tell this from a number of signs. Her hands had been soft, and her arms lithe when she first came into Kilima. Her body had not known a day’s work like she had grown accustomed to. Y/N’s hands were worn and rough with calluses now, and her muscles, while not much compared to Sifuu, were still visible. And she could run faster and farther and haul sernuk much easier now. She was sure the magic pack Zeki had given her, plus Kilima’s fresh air and pleasant weather was helping as well.

He nodded thoughtfully, considering his words before speaking. “Have you ever thought about what your life was like before? Not just human life in general, but yours specifically?”

She had heard the word ‘memory’ before, and while she was sure she had some memories, they were not the kind Reth was talking about. Like she could remember watering her plants this morning, and she could remember shooting her bow for the first time. But these memories were vivid in her mind, having been so recent. She was told older memories got fuzzy with the passing of time.

“I have.” She said shortly, not feeling like she wanted to get into it. “I really like my life now, though.” 

She leaned over and nudged her shoulder against Reth’s, pushing him slightly. He exaggerated the gesture and dramatically fell back into the grass. She placed her sandwich down on top of the basket and laid next to him and looked at the clouds. 

She could feel an uncomfortableness radiating from Reth, though, like he wanted to say something but was holding back. Turning her head to look at him, she found him already looking at her, and he quickly looked up and away. 

Reth was… something. She wasn’t sure what this feeling was in her chest when he was around. It was different from the feeling of wanting to gossip or craft with Tish, or the feeling of wanting Hassian to be proud of her for hunting a large animal all by herself. It was deeper, and made her anxious, and made her feel warm all at once. 

Like she needed Reth to understand her, deeply, deeper than she knew herself. 

She was sure this was a purely human emotion, because Reth always seemed calm and collected. At least, now he did. When he had first spoken to her, though, he had tripped over his words greatly. 

“When I first met you,” he started, seeming to read her thoughts, “I had never seen a human before. And it surprised me.”

She let that hang there for a moment, feeling like there was something he still wasn’t saying. “What surprised you?”

She was still looking at him but he was none the wiser, his eyes locked on the sky. His cheeks slowly darkened to a magenta color. 

She felt something soft and gentle on her fingers, and upon looking down she found it was Reth’s own hand, slowly sliding in the grass closer to her own. She took in a quiet deep breath to calm herself, even as it felt like pure Flow was shooting up her arm at the contact. She was very confused, but allowed him to take her hand in his and intertwined their fingers. She didn’t understand the purpose of it, and yet she found it was quite pleasant and didn’t want to let go. So she relaxed into the grass, and gave his hand a small squeeze. He reciprocated the gesture, finally turning his head to look at her. He smiled at her then, a wide smile that made her toes curl in her boots and ingrained itself in her mind. His eyes sparkled in a way she had never seen before. 

Y/N looked away first, pointing out a cloud that looked like a star. Reth chuckled and squeezed her hand once more, agreeing with her, before he suddenly gasped and sat up, looking towards the basket. 

“Oh! I brought you something. Caleri waived my late fees so I could bring you this. I’m lucky she likes you so much.”

He handed her half-eaten sandwich to her, which she took another bite of as he opened the basket and produced a book, handing it over. Y/N sat up as well, taking it from him gently. Their hands touched briefly, and a burst of warmth blossomed in her chest. Ignoring it, she studied the strange writing on the worn red cover. It looked like English characters, but it was too worn to make out the words on the cover.

“You found this in the library?”

“I know, right? In the small Human section. I think it’s a cookbook. Look inside.”

She looked at him and shared his excited smile, then opened it to a random page. The pages were old and stuck together, and made a pleasant crackling sound as the spine expanded. Near the middle of the book, at the top of the page, was a full color picture of a cooked dish. It looked odd, it was a stack of bread and what looked like vegetables and meat. The writing at the top of the page read Burger.

Reth peeked over her shoulder, scooting closer to get a better look. Their legs were pressed together as he mouthed out the foreign word.

“Bur-jer.” He said confidently.

Y/N repeated the word. Jina would get a kick out of this. She wondered if she had read this book. She must have, but then again, Jina had never mentioned any human foods before. “I think it’s pronounced ‘bur-gur’, actually. Feels better in my human mouth.”

Reth laughed and threw his hands up. “Hey, you’re the expert. Do you want to try and cook it?”

“But we can barely read the recipe!”

“Won’t it be fun? I’m sure we could figure it out.”

The idea did sound very appealing. She would love to get closer to her roots, and she would never deny spending time with Reth. 

“Let’s do it.”

He nodded, putting a handkerchief between the pages to mark the place.

They sat in the grass and talked a little while longer before Reth announced he had to get back to the Inn, so they packed up and parted ways. 

Back at her housing plot, after Y/N had washed the chapaa meat and furs in a bucket of pond water, she wondered about her odd feelings for Reth, and the tightness in her chest when she thought about him. She stood at her stove, grilling the savory meat and letting the smell fill the air. Sometimes, when she cooked, she felt sad, and wished she was cooking with others. Cooking alone felt deeply wrong to her, and she could not explain why. She let herself feel the sadness, and then let it wash away when she was done, just like Jel had taught her. And by that time the meat had finished cooking. But as she reached to grab a plate (from the set that Elouisa had gifted her) she accidentally hit the hot pan and burned her hand. 

All at once, her mind’s eye was filled with the sight of a kitchen that wasn’t hers. The wallpaper was different, and there were many plants, and more cabinets. A woman whom she had never seen before, and yet felt so familiar, with skin tan like her own, fawned over her. 

“Oh dear, did you burn yourself, button? Come to the sink.”

The woman grabbed her wrist gently and led her to the sink, and turned the handle. Cool water started flowing from what she recollected was called a ‘faucet’. The woman, her mother, put her hand under the cold flow of the water until the burning sensation stopped. 

And then Y/N was standing alone once again, holding her injured hand to her chest. Luckily, her sink basin was already filled with fresh water from the pond, so she submerged her hand in the cool water until the familiar burning stopped once again. 

Was that a memory? Was that what remembering felt like? Her mother looked so similar to herself. She had so many questions, and she knew that no one else would have answers. Suddenly she felt so alone, even in this village of kind people, she felt totally isolated. 

– – – –

The next day felt very weird. After her odd kitchen experience the night before, Y/N had tossed and turned all night and didn’t get a wink of sleep. She ended up chopping many trees to take her mind off it, and after that didn’t help, she figured she would head into town and see if Hassian wanted help filling his meat supply for sale. The hunting in silence seemed to help a bit, and she always enjoyed his company, but every time she pulled back an arrow in the bow, the burn on her hand ached, and she remembered her mother’s face. And after that, she spent some time with Tish and Jel in the square before their shops opened. But as Tish complained of washing her cotton in pond water and finding a tadpole in her fabric later, the memory of the convenience of running water came flooding back. So she spent the day on her housing plot, alone and wallowing, unsure of what to do with herself.

When she didn’t show up for lunch again that day at the Inn, Reth thought at first it was because she was hunting. But after speaking with Hassian and learning she had already been hunting that morning, worry took over. It wasn’t like her to run off without telling someone where she was going. Everyone worried over her, being the only human any of them had ever seen, and having just materialized just a few months ago, the village as a whole didn’t want her to get lost or injured or worse. He couldn’t leave the Inn and go all the way to her house himself, but he could do one better. 

So late that afternoon, Y/N was surprised when she got a knock at her door, and was even more surprised to find Auni at her doorstep with a small paper bag. Usually he just left packages in the mailbox or on her porch, even if she was home, so she found it odd that he knocked. 

“Heya! Reth sent me with some food for ya. Wanted to know where you were.”

She smiled at him. Even though she didn’t feel like smiling, Auni was just a little ray of sunshine, and it was impossible not to be amused in his presence. And it warmed her heart to know Reth was thinking of her. 

“Hey Auni, long time no see. Do you want to come in; I caught a few new bugs I wanna show you.”

He nodded enthusiastically, and when she was done showing him the butterflies and beetles, she sent him on his way with some fresh crab meat for his mother. Now she was left with her lunch (now, she supposed she could call it dinner), some carrot soup. Her favorite. When she was done eating the warm meal, she laid on her bed and smiled, kicking her feet and giggling that Reth would be so kind. 

There were a lot of things she didn’t know, but maybe talking about them would be a good start.

– – – –

“Steady… Steady…” Nai’o hushed to the ormuu, patting it’s head while Y/N knelt beside the large animal, getting ready to milk it. She had never milked an ormuu before, and Nai’o was kind enough to offer to teach her after she had offhandedly expressed her curiosity about it a few sun cycles prior. Delaila even offered to share some of the resulting butter for her work.

He had taught her the hand motions, and once she started, it wasn’t so bad. Nai’o stood and watched and gave her encouragement as the bucket slowly filled with the good milk.

But her mind was elsewhere. Last week she had come around the corner of the City Hall and found him and Kenyatta behind the wall, doing what Tish called ‘sucking face’ but had learned the official word was ‘kissing’. It felt like an intrusion and she had pretended not to see them and had quietly snuck away, but the sight (and the curiosity) had stuck with her. 

“Can I ask you a personal question?” She said, sure to say it loud enough to be heard over the mooing of the ormuu. 

“Go ahead,” he replied instantly.

Y/N felt awkward bringing up the subject, and she wasn’t sure why. But she pushed ahead in the pursuit of answers. 

“When you first met Kenyatta, what did you feel?”

“That’s tough. Kenyatta and I grew up together. We’ve always known each other.”

That made sense, but it wasn’t what she meant. She took a deep breath and turned away from the ormuu for a second to meet his eyes.

“What about when you started dating?” The word ‘dating’ was still new to her, but she had heard Kenyatta use it, so she was sure it applied at least to her and Nai’o.

“Well, when I realized that I had feelings for her, I tried everything to get her attention. I just wanted to spend as much time with her as possible.”

“Had feelings? What did those feel like?”

“Why, are you feeling this way? I wonder who the object of your affections is?” Nai’o teased. 

She blushed, and went back to milking in hopes that Nai’o couldn’t see her dark cheeks. “Affections?” she asked, when she had found her voice. 

Occasionally, the Majiri would say a word that Y/N did not recognise. It felt childish to have to ask what a word’s definition was (even if Y/N couldn’t remember her childhood). She had heard this word before, but not used in this way. 

“Ah, how to explain it…” Nai’o said, mostly to himself as he thought for a moment. “If you have affections for someone, you like them more than you like everyone else. We call it love. It’s different than the love you feel for your parents or siblings or a close friend. You want to spend the rest of your life with that person.”

She thought about this for a moment. She didn’t have parents that she could remember, but Sifuu had joked many times that she had adopted Y/N and was her makeshift mother. And Y/N would do just about anything for Sifuu, so she guessed that was love, in a way. But she certainly did not want to kiss Sifuu. And she felt a camaraderie with Hassian, which Sifuu had also mentioned that Hassian, her Shepp, worried over her like an older brother (Hassian was not thrilled that his mother had mentioned his concerns, much like when he found out she had told Y/N about the poetry). And the mere thought of kissing Hassian made her want to throw up. And she felt proud of him in ways similar to how Tish described feeling over Reth. Now that she thought about it, she figured that Sifuu and Hassian were like her family, similar to the Daiya family. But what did that make Reth?

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Reth lately,” Nai’o continued when she didn’t say anything. 

She had brought up the subject thinking about Reth, but now felt like she should be doing more for Sifuu and Hassian. But she liked finishing what she started, so she circled back in her mind to her ultimate concern: the weird pressing in her chest when she was with Reth.

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that you want to kiss Reth, don’t you?”

Her words stuck in her throat at his bluntness. Did she? “I don’t know.”

“I know what you can do,” He said, looking very proud of himself, “Go to Zeki’s and buy a box of chocolates. And then give it to Reth. See what he does.” He said with a wide smile, and he leaned down to pick up the now full bucket of milk. Y/N took the cue and followed him into the house, leaving the ormuu with a small pat. 

“I thought chocolates were gifts for married folk only.”

“I give chocolates to Kenyatta all the time, and we aren’t married. Don’t you want to be like her and I?”

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure that she did, as the image of him and Ken with lips locked resurfaced, but she guessed it couldn’t hurt. “Alright, I’ll try it, and let you know.”

He clapped his hands and jumped up, in a demeanor she had never seen on Nai’o. His nosiness surprised her. “Good, tell me all the details. Ken is gonna love this.”

They went into the house and Delaila showed Y/N how the churn worked, and let her try her hand at churning the butter, but ultimately Del sent her on her way with some jam, and promised to have the butter delivered when it was finished. 

– – – –

It wasn’t for many sun cycles that Y/N and Reth could work their schedules around and meet up to try the recipe. Anxiety bubbled in her chest at the thought of what she was going to do, but she also was apprehensive to cook again. After burning her hand, she had avoided her kitchen like it was tainted with the plague. As much as she had relished and replayed the memory of her mother in her head multiple times, she was scared it was going to happen again. Even though she was slowly growing used to recalling such an old memory, having it spring up so suddenly that first time was alarming. 

She had already spoken to Jina about it, and she had urged Y/N to continue trying new things in hopes of triggering another memory to resurface. Y/N wasn’t exactly sure that she wanted that to happen, but maybe she could learn more about her own past, and about what happened to the humans in general. 

So when the time came where Reth was on his way to her home, she was a little out of sorts. The box of chocolates was hidden in a cupboard until the right moment appeared, the ingredients (what she had) for the recipe were laid out on the counter, fresh water in the sink basin, and her home cleaned and reorganized. She had only had time to build two rooms since coming to Kilima, but her living-kitchen-entry was tidy and her bed was made in the next room. Even Eshe would be proud of the decorating. 

After what felt like ages of pacing the floor, finally she heard a knock on her door. Wiping her sweaty hands on the new dress she had bought from Jel for the occasion, she opened the door. 

There he stood, in a crisp blue button-down shirt, a bouquet of heartdrop lilies in hand, and a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, sweet-tooth. Ready to make Majiri food history?”

The sight of him alone was enough to make her swoon, but the flowers were something else entirely. 

“Of course, come in, make yourself at home. Shoes off, please.” Y/N said hoping she masked the nervousness in her voice, and she accepted the flowers from him while he took off his boots. They were beautiful, and she had just bought a new vase the week prior too, so the timing was perfect. “Thank you for the flowers, they’re lovely.”

“Not as lovely as you.” He replied all too quickly, causing Y/N to blush profusely. 

“Thank you.” She whispered, reaching into her cupboard for the vase and filling it with water. The flowers sat pretty on her table for two (she had crafted the second chair just for Reth that day), and the two of them washed their hands in preparation to cook.

“So first the recipe says to make the… the patty? I think it says.” Y/N said, looking at the open cookbook on the counter. 

Reth came up behind her, putting an arm on the counter next to her and looking over her shoulder to attempt to read the book. She blushed at his close proximity. She could feel his breath gently on her neck. 

“Sounds about right. I’ve never ground up meat before. How do you think we should do it?”

“Maybe we should just mince it and hope for the best.” She looked at him and was surprised just how close their faces were to one another. Despite her pounding heart, she liked being close to him. 

“I can do that, easy peasy.” Reth smiled, locking eyes with her. “Where are your kitchen knives?”

“Um… I’ll get one.” Y/N sputtered. She had to get ahold of herself! She should be cool.

It was increasingly hard with the heartdrop lilies on the table, seemingly watching her. 

While Reth minced the chapaa meat, Y/N worked on washing and cutting the tomatoes, lettuce, and onion. The recipe also called for something called ‘cheese’, but neither of them knew what that was, so they decided to just leave it out. They seasoned the minced meat with spice sprouts, wild garlic, and an egg, formed it into round patties, and grilled them on the stove. The recipe was worn over the part talking about the onions, so Reth suggested putting the onions on raw. And they didn’t have any ‘burger buns’, so they made do with hot hound buns instead.

"Hey, Reth, I have some news."

"Oh? Like what?" He asked, flipping one of the burger patties in the pan. She watched the action, and got distracted for a moment watching the muscles in his forearm ripple.

She twiddled her hands in anticipation. "I think I remembered something. About my past life, I mean."

At this, Reth perked up and gave his full attention to her. "Really? What did you remember?"

"It was odd, it just came so suddenly," Y/N started, then backtracked. "I was just cooking last week and burned myself, and I remembered a time when I was younger and had also burned myself while cooking, and my mother had taken me to the sink and run my hand under cold water to relieve the burn."

He thought about it for a moment, then replied, "Do you think you'll remember more things?"

"I don't know. I kind of hope so, but it was a little startling. Maybe next time it won't be as surprising."

He nodded, understanding. He could only sympathize with her since he would never experience losing all his memories and waking up in a strange place, but he was sure this was a new and exciting time for Y/N.

"Thank you for telling me. I hope you get to remember more about your past life."

"Of course, thanks for being here for me. No matter what I remember, though, you'll still be my favorite part of my new life."

Reth blushed at this, and went back to tending the meat in the pan, lest it burn like his cheeks.

The result of their efforts was a little oddly shaped, but upon sitting down to eat, found it was absolutely delicious. They enjoyed their meal together with good conversation, about Tish’s latest creation, Y/N’s new dress (Reth told her she looked absolutely stunning, cause her to nearly choke on her human burger in surprise), and Ashura mentioning something about a raise for Reth. And after, they washed the dishes together, standing too close together, arms touching, laughing and splashing water everywhere. 

It was the best night Y/N had had in a long time. And it was all thanks to Reth. 

“Hey, I’m having such a good time, do you think I could stay a little while longer?” He asked, when the last dish had been dried and put away.

“Of course, I don’t want you to go home yet either.” She admitted. 

“What would you like to do?” He asked, plopping down on the couch and sinking back into the cushions. 

“Actually, I have something for you.” Y/N admitted, feeling nervous and excited. Reth made her feel like she could do anything, and like she was on top of the world, and she hoped her gift would instill similar feelings in him. “But you have to close your eyes.”

He closed his eyes immediately, and her heart leapt at the sight. “Alright, I do love surprises.”

With a wide smile and shaking hands, she carefully pulled out the heart-shaped box of chocolates and sat down on the couch next to him. He sat up as he felt her weight on the couch next to him, and instinctively, she scooched closer to him until their legs were completely pressed together. 

She placed the chocolates on his lap gingerly. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

She watched as he opened his eyes, looking down at the box in his lap, then turned to look at her with such boyish joy in his eyes. Nothing could have prepared her for the energy in that room, filled with tension and joy and pure happiness and nervousness all at once. It was nearly overwhelming.

“You really want me to have these?” He asked, his voice not much above a whisper. 

“Of course, all for you. You deserve them.” Y/n said simply, though she wanted to proclaim that he deserved so much more than a simple box of chocolates. 

But he looked at her like she hung the flaming moon, like she was all he had ever wanted. Because, simply put, that’s exactly how he felt. 

“Y/N,” he started, carefully placing the chocolates on the coffee table in front of him, never taking his eyes off of hers, “You are the most generous, kind, beautiful soul I have ever met,” Now that his hands were free, he reached for hers. Gently caressing the backs of her hands with his thumbs, he gazed into her eyes with all the adoration in his heart. “I’m honored you would gift these to me. Thank you so much.”

Y/N was so happy she could cry. And she nearly did. Reth made her feel so safe and appreciated, and she knew he reciprocated everything she felt by the way he looked at her now. She glanced at his lips and wondered what they would feel like pressed to her own, and now she understood Kenyatta perfectly. 

He seemed to read her mind, moving one hand to her face, gliding his thumb over her cheekbone as he pressed his forehead to hers. With eyes closed to fully savor the moment, he whispered gently, “May I kiss you?”

Her heart was doing flips in her chest now as he moved ever closer, and she mewled out a meek ‘yes’, feeling the faint brush of his lips against her own due to their proximity. 

He wasted no time once she had consented, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. His hand on her face held her in place, and his other hand moved to her back to pull her closer. Her own hands rested on his strong forearm, and one on his shoulder as she deepened the kiss. He was all over her, invading her senses, and all she could think was more, more, more. She wasn’t sure what ‘more’ entailed, but she would happily spend the rest of her life figuring it out. She needed him impossibly closer, and he seemed to be thinking the same thing by the way his hands gripped the fabric of her dress. His tongue gently opened her mouth, allowing himself access to her. The sensation was foreign but she found it wasn’t unpleasant. She allowed him to explore her mouth for a little while, and just enjoyed the feeling of him pressed against her. 

Reth was ecstatic that Y/N returned his feelings, and was even happier that she was content to sit in his arms. He had dreamed of this moment ever since he first laid eyes on her, that first day she came into his world. He relished in the feeling of her so close, her warm body pressing ever closer, her hands wandering across his arms and back. She touched his neck at the base of his hair, and he simply melted into her touch. She was everything he could have ever wanted. 

He got so excited that he scooped his hands under her legs, chuckling at her gasp of surprise as he lifted her into his lap. Warm hands settled on her hips as she gazed into his eyes with all the love in her heart. He just wanted her closer, so he pulled her to his chest for a deep hug. He pet her hair, gently carding his fingers through as she sighed into his shoulder. Nuzzling her nose into his neck, Y/N sighed contentedly. She could sit like this forever, legs on either side of his, as close as she could possibly be, and wondered what she would have to do to make this a daily occurrence. 

“Reth?” She asked, after many minutes of just sitting in each other’s presence. 

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Will you be mine? Only mine?”

“Yes my love, I’m already yours.”

[midnightwriter21]

Sanemi, Shinobu and Obanai x Giyuu little sister reader. Reader 20 and 1 year younger than Giyuu and is the Polar opposite of Jim like she very playful and curious but also very loving to him and he spoils her. She a civilian who owns a tea shop. May I have headcanons with her and those three and Giyuu reaction to each please?

demon slayer hcs: sanemi & shinobu x giyuu's little sister!reader

characters: sanemi, shinobu, giyuu

warnings: mentions of birth control in shinobu's (idek if that needs a warning lol)

AN: pumped this out at 3am lol, ill be doing obanai in another part!

SANEMI

your relationship was such a slow burn lol

when he finds out ur giyuu's sister its an immediate disliking on Sanemi's part

but are we rly surprised?

dude HATES giyuu

you spend a lot of time with the hashira

and you've become good friends with them so you're always around when the hashira are all together

they all adore u

you're sweet, funny, outgoing, confident

basically everything that giyuu isn't lollll

you brought snacks from ur teashop to one of the lil hashira hangouts

and you couldn't help but notice sanemi absolutely stuffing his face full of the ohagi that you brought

but who can blame him?

he might not like you but he never said you were a bad cook

and ohagi is his favorite

a couple days after the lil hangout

sanemi gets back to his estate after a mission and finds a cute lil basket adorned with a bow sitting on his doorstep

he picks it up and looks inside and its full of ohagi

after he goes inside and devours the whole basket

he finds a note at the bottom saying "enjoy <3" signed with your name

thats it right there.

the way to this mans heart is thru his stomach fr

now

when yall are dating dating

you keep it quiet

none of the other hashira know

and giyuu CERTAINLY doesn't know

until one day you're working at your tea shop and sanemi walks in to pick up the lunch that you made him

now me personally... id turn into a professional cook for this man

5 COURSE MEAL FOR EVERY MEAL

anyways

its not a busy day at the shop so he walks into the kitchen to find you cooking

and this man is HANDSY

so ofc he grabs you by your waist and pulls u into him

and starts feeling you up good lord please i want this so bad

you hear the faint 'ding!' of the bell above the front door

but pay it no mind assuming its a customer

and then the kitchen door opens

and everyone freezes

cause standing in the doorway is your older brother

thats the most expressive face sanemi has ever seen on giyuu

dudes eyes are wide as saucers

mouth wide open

shook af

like "dawg don't you hate me and everyone that associates with me?"

like "you have basically cursed my entire bloodline"

"you told me to off myself because im me"

and sanemi is just "i hate you not you're sister"

and goes back to feeling u up totally ignoring giyuu's presence

giyuu basically just moonwalks back out the door

and pretends he never saw any of that

lol i love them XD

SHINOBU

now shinobu liked you from the second she met you

she went to giyuu's estate to get him for a mission

and walks in to find you teasing and mocking tf outta ur older brother lmao

ofc she joins in

throwing in some teasing remarks of her own

poor giyuu lol

she is a frequent visitor to your tea shop

cause instead of making medicinal teas herself, now she can just get you to do it

plus she gets to see her favorite girlllll

now

the way giyuu finds out is too funny

you are in the infirmary at the butterfly mansion

dw ur not injured or sick or anything!!

now...

you're sitting on the bed waiting for shinobu

when giyuu walks in

and he's like "wtf are u doing here"

you're explain your business to ur brother when shinobu walks in looking down at a needle saying

"alright i have your birth control shot! not like you need it... i can't get u pregnant"

she looks up when she hears a 'smack'

and there you are with ur hand slapped to your forehead and a bright red face

giyuu just looks between you and shinobu with a blank face

before he passes clean out

dude hits the floor hard lmao

when he wakes up you give him an explanation

and then u and shinobu tease him for passing out

lol dude can't catch a break

[bruciemilf]

Baby! Spider Socorro HCs (good parent Jake and Neytiri edition)

Called Jake “Mr. Silly” for the first 3 years of his life; That’s his name on all medical files, now. Mo’at calls him that when he’s being an idiot.

Often wondered through the jungle by himself. Max and Norm were often too engrossed in their work to notice the little bundle of energy and sunshine was gone, and that’s how Jake appointed himself as babysitter.

Pretended not to know trivial information just to have Spider explain it to him, and pretended to be impressed/shocked all the time. “Ikrans can fly?! No way!” “Pandora has stars at night? I didn’t know that!”

Contrary to popular belief, — Na’vi kids and teens love Spider; They play chase, hide and seek, make sure he doesn’t fall off trees, and give him jelly fish snacks when they see him.

After all, they can smell their Toruk Makto on him; It only makes sense.

All these gifts are taken straight to Neytiri. That baby is obsessed with her. He’s so shy and red cheeks and hides behind Jake’s legs when he hands her these presents.

To her frustration, it’s very adorable.

“Tiri? I brought you bebbies.”

She takes a very slow breath. “Berries.”

“And fishies.”

“Fish.”

“ yah ^^ they’re sweet ^^ from the pond ^^”

Slow breath in. Slow breath out. “…thank you.”

Jake brings Spider for dinner once. Then twice. Then once a week. Then, everyday. It’s become a pattern.

“Sweet,” he says, pointing to the fish he caught for them, tiny little things roasting next to the actual dinner. Jake smiles, “Yeah, honey, it’s sweet.” “Ha-ne?”

“It’s a term of endearment you use for people you love. Isn’t that right, honey?” He asks Neytiri, who’s cleaning knives and fixing him with a sweet look.

“Choke.”

Spider points to Jake, then to Neytiri, bright voice giggly, “Honey! Honey, honey honey.”

Someone get Jake a box of tissues that man is CRYING constantly. On his hands and knees begging Neytiri to let him keep Spider around. He’s so CUTE.

“Please?”

“He needs to be with his kind.”

“He HAS no kind. “

Baby Spider who’s barely bigger than Jake’s forearm, following him everywhere, trying to fish, hunt, fight, etc??? He so badly wants to be a mini Jake, gives that man baby fever fr fr

Refuses to get his hair cut; Everytime Norm brings it up, the little sunshine gets this unmoving look in his eyes. “I want to look like Mr. Silly.”

Drew his blue stripes himself; a powerful movement of compassion and strange affection hits Neytiri straight in the chest when she sees it. It’s then, she realizes, perhaps not all sky people earned her ire.

Made a shifty if not janky bow for himself. The string is too loose, the arrowheads are choppy, the wood too skinny. Neytiri takes it upon herself to fix it.

Fiercely protective Jake.

No, honestly, just turn yourself over to the RDA if you upset Spider in anyway. They’d be worlds kinder than him. Jake “try me bitch” Sully wouldn’t lay down belly up if his baby’s threatened

[dipperscavern]

Hi Dippy! Congrats on 1k!! You’re fr the best!

May I pleaseee have a spell casting with Robb and the prompt: the look of absolute admiration and love one gives when the other isn't looking/cue their other friends gagging and telling them to “stand up”? Maybe an archery component watching in awe, betrothed fluffy pre war vibes? All the creative freedom to you there!

Tysm! 🎉🥳💚

- 🍏

hi my lovely!! thanks for requesting, the starklings were so fun to write :3

18. the look of absolute admiration and love one gives when the other isn't looking, cue their friends gagging & telling them to “stand up”

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

“That’s not fair — you’re cheating!”

brans voice reverberates through the courtyard, where he’s decided to accuse robb of cheating in your archery competition. theon, jon, and arya all perk up at the accusation. robb, your betrothed, takes it as serious as any other; and ceases nocking his arrow to address it properly.

“It’s not cheating if I’m better than you, Bran.” he says, bending towards brans level. you put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh, and ned & catelyn, watching, both find themselves smiling at the sight.

“You hit the bullseye each of your turns!” robb’s only gone twice, but that doesn’t seem to mean much to the little starkling.

arya has a look of disbelief written on her face, and turns to bran. “Just because you can’t hit the target more than twice—“

knowing his father & lady catelyn are watching, jon clears his throat, interrupting the fight before it has a chance to begin. “My lady, I believe it’s your turn.”

jon is successful, aryas mouth clamping shut as soon as you’re mentioned. the chance to watch your skill with a bow always captures her full attention. as you move to exchange places in front of the target with robb, your eyes meet, sharing a knowing look with barely concealed smiles.

you hit bullseye, of course, which makes bran sigh. arya, on the other hand, has a massive grin on her face; and when robb sees it, he knows he’ll be fighting her for your attention.

as bran moves to exchange places with you, you notice the dejected expression he wears. you remember how hard it was to hone your archery skills, and that was without an older sibling you felt like you had to live up to.

you sling your bow around your shoulder, stepping aside to give bran room, while also not leaving his side. he looks at you, confused. you nod to the target. “Notch your arrow,” you say, noting his nerves. “Go on.”

he gulps, but heeds your command anyways. the others watch with peaked interest, but none as much as robb. how lovely can you be? apparently, much lovelier than he thought possible. you crouch next to bran, and gently fix his position.

“You and the arrow are a team. It waits for your guide.” you say, both of you watching the target. brans lips part in concentration. “Breathe.”

bran deeply breathes in, and then breathes out. only a second after he expels the air from his lungs, he lets go, and while it’s no bullseye — it’s not far from it. cheers erupt, and you & bran share a smile at his small victory.

“He hit the target!” arya exclaims, and jon nudges her with his hip.

“Nicely done!” ned calls down, and bran grins widely at the open praise from his father. you grin at seeing bran succeed.

robb, arms crossed, notices that; and looks at you the way his parents look at each other. admiration and appreciation swims in his gaze.

he can’t help it, watching you guide his siblings with such kindness tugs on his heartstrings, making him forget himself — and he stares openly. the way he looks at you as you has arya gagging, as theon gives robb a look of his own. (equal disgust)

“Stand up.”

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

[arthenaa]

a daffodil's camellia— ominis x gn!reader

summary: you think your purpose has always been to love him.

warnings: angst/no comfort, arranged marriage, indirect exclusion, HEARTACHE, unrequited love, reader is kinda a pushover but its bc of generational trauma guys !!! imelda is a great friend, the imelda bias here is unreal so sorry im just projecting, ableism behavior guys bc these mfs are too privileged, i am fr trying to break ur heart ig. NOT PROOFREAD im lazy.

note: HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR!!!! i slept on this mb,,,,, the angst ominis fic that i talked abt last time but didn't upload until now .... oc cameo from @localravenclaw and @esolean !! (Ren and Lydia) hope u guys enjoy this! anys have fun reading

All your life, you think that this was what you’ve been born to do.

It’s engraved in years of tradition and history, a role you had to partake in the moment you came out of the womb. It was predetermined that your fate would end up in this situation.

Purity was an important factor for the historical families of the Wizarding world. Those who had come down from powerful bloodlines consider the tradition of keeping the family pure a sacred tradition of their power and authority over society.

A pedestal created from years and years of bloodshed to hone the perfection of wizardry and magic today. You suppose it was only an act of gratitude to be part of a long-lasting dynasty that preserved the sacred power of your ancestors. You know it’s an honor to be tasked with this role—to be given the duty of creating more branches for future generations.

You should know because this was what you were born to do.

Born and raised to be a bridge for other Pureblood families to lengthen their authority and claim over their self-built thrones. They say it’s a privilege—to be part of a family descended from the Great Four or just have connections with them through their ancestors’ relationships.

To be pure is to be great.

To be pure is to live a life filled with luxuries.

Opportunities are immediately given with just a snap of their fingers. Their authority precedes those whose blood is stained with the lesser. You’d think living a life of a pureblood would just entail all roses and gold.

Y/N would beg to differ.

“Keep your head bowed and hands on your lap,” Your mother’s voice is ever so cold. The carriage rustles with each bump against rocky terrain. You suppose it's about time you've gotten used to her tone but the booming surprise of her voice has a way of sinking its claws deep within your small heart. As a child, obedience was the foremost value you learned to be of importance. You knew that if you flick your head slightly off angle to your usual disposition due to an interest in your surroundings or the people around you, you would only get the receiving end of your mother’s wand. You knew that you'll be locked down in that dreaded abyss if your bow stuttered due to a misplacement of your foot in front of other pureblood families.

At a young age, you knew enough to not make a mistake.

Born third to the Rosier family's eldest son, you knew that your duty was to form connections—Marry off into other pureblood families and create the next generation of talented pureblood wizards. Wizards have the natural right to take what’s theirs because of their authority over society. A vision that threatens those beneath them.

So you keep your head bowed and palms tucked nicely on your lap with one palm over the other. Your mother is a cold and moving force beside you as you tried to match her pace despite your small little legs. At the age of 7, you are brought by your mother for marriage negotiations.

“Your husband will be an esteemed member of the Gaunts,” You remember your father declaring over tea. He sits menacingly in the front of the table, the glow of the flames behind him making his figure all the more unreachable. You know to only nod and not question any further. He makes a point by knocking on the wooden surface of the long dinner table that seems to stretch farther with each day. You wonder if the spaces beside you will ever be filled. You turn to him at the beckoning of your attention. “You listen carefully to your future husband, child. I cannot afford another failure.”

His words engrave deeply within your poor meek heart. You know that if you deny it, you’ll suffer the same fate that of your older sister—the one who tried to get a glimpse of the love and normalcy she desperately wanted yet ended with a tragedy.

You remembered that day in such vivid detail—the cold looks of your parents as they looked down at the state of their eldest daughter, who bawls and claws at any sort of reaction from the still and lifeless figure of her former lover.

So just like the obedient perfect child that you are, you nod and bow—subservient to the influences of those who claim to be wiser than you. You can only do so much to control your faith so alas, you let go and let the others hold the reigns.

That is until you meet him.

You were faintly aware of what he looked like. A boy with eyes as bright as the clouds, hair so smooth—so blonde that it gleams perfectly in the sunlight, and moles that litter his face, mimicking the night sky. These were murmurs of him from the servants in the halls of your manor. They say his beauty is compared to that of Rowena Ravenclaw and his demeanor spoke true as a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. However, there were also whispers of his only flaw.

“They say the young lord does not see.”

You wondered before how true the nature of the gossip of the young lord was when you took your first step inside the Gaunt estate, but now, as you stand before him who seems detached from the world with his eyes as dull as the morning sky on a rainy day, you suddenly make a conclusive remark about him.

He was truly a sight to behold.

“This is the young Lord, Ominis Gaunt," His mother declares proudly from her place, chest puffed and earrings dangling from the heaviness of the jewels that clung tightly to their placements. His father stands idly and lets his wife do all the matching. Your mother only smiles, placing a firm hand on your back—reminding you of your duty.

You bow with the elegance that of a noble—A move you’ve honed to perfection from years and years of teaching and practice. You rise back up with the same pace, eyes peering up at him from your lashes. He only seems to daze off into the distance.

“This is Lady Y/N Rosier. We’ll serve you well.”

The silence is unbearable.

You think that maybe after the taxing interaction with the grown-ups and being able to interact alone with the young lord would allow you to finally discover his true personality.

That, however, continues to be a difficulty.

"Do you like fencing, my lord?" You ask, trying to break the ice as you sit across from him in one of the receiving rooms of the Gaunt's huge manor. "Or perhaps history?"

"Stop asking." He replies curtly, stance devoid of interest. You continue to dig deep into that shell of his, hoping that your incessant need to make conversation would crumble the defensive walls he put up.

"I hear you're quite skilled in astronomy, my lord—"

"Don't call me that."

"What do I call you then?" You perk up, cheeks gleaming with a smile. The furrowing of his eyebrows only digs deeper.

"It appears that I am an avid fan of silence. I suggest not speaking at all," For a 7-year-old, his voice is cold and authoritative. You suppose it's because of his closeness to the Great Four that he is granted with such ability to freely talk however he wants. Your eyes glimmer in awe.

"I just want to get to know my future husband," You retort, trying to make sense of your fiance. You pout like a child, feet swinging back and forth—allowing yourself a moment of reprieve from the stiffness of tradition. "Mother says it's customary for us to be familiar with one another at a young age to establish proper connec—"

His hands slam hard at the wooden surface of the table in front of you. You flinch, a bit surprised by his sudden show of strength. You admit that maybe you've gone a bit too far with the questioning, but it was all for a good purpose anyway! You two are to be one in due time. So, what was so wrong about getting to know him?

You wonder if you'll ever be like him someday. To carry himself in such a stance that he doesn't need to nod or bow to anyone. He tilts his head in the direction of your voice, face contorted into a glare.

"I'll be on my way," He murmurs, voice calm, and yet his disposition evokes anger and frustration. You watch him with bated breath as he walks towards the double doors, the servants bowing and opening it for him with ease.

You know that this should be the final nail in the coffin. To detest the boy you'll soon marry as he turns into a man whose values and inhibitions clung onto him like a wolf who won't release it's jaws onto prey. You know and yet your fingers crumple the fabric of your skirt, eyes looking forward to your next meeting.

The next time you meet him is over tea. It was the turn of the Gaunts to visit your manor as dictated by the tradition of courting within noble houses. You've practiced this scenario over and over. Countless of times alone, with your governess, and with your mother. It's engraved within the depths of your mind as the wounds of the past sting with each sip of your drink.

Act like a noble. Drink like a high-born. Be a pureblood.

The thoughts ring harshly with each thump of your beating heart. Your fingers twitch, and your form stiffens—all for the sake of tradition. The words branding the forefront of your mind as you feel the intensity of your mother's gaze.

I have to do good. I need to do good.

"Your estate is a wonderful place, Lady Rosier," The Gaunt Matriarch addresses your mother with an esteemed elegance—to which your mother only responds with a courteous smile, a part of her façade.

Your mother never liked purebloods but she respected tradition. She smiles and bows in front of her peers but mocks and beseeches them in the comfort of her room.

You don't understand your mother but as a young child, validation from her was the only thing you ever wanted.

And so you try.

"It's all due to our ancestors' hard work in keeping the Rosier history alive through the manor's architecture," You respond, lips contorted into a gentle smile. The Gaunts seem impressed by your interest in the conversation and from the corner of your eye, you see your mother shift in her seat.

"I see," Lord Gaunt eyes you with a glint of interest in his eye, and he shifts his attention to your parents. "Lord and Lady Rosier, you've raised a daughter worthy of her blood. I applaud you."

Your mother smiles and for the first time, you feel your heart thump at the recognition of doing good. She then responds, "As they should be. It is their role to be worthy and I'm sure she'll be a wonderful spouse to the young master."

Your attention then shifts to the quiet blonde sitting idly in his seat. His face is stone cold, eyes dull, and fists clenching the material of his seat so hard it turns white.

Anger was the first emotion you've seen on Ominis's face.

You wonder if you'll get to see more.

"Aren't you excited?"

You squeal, influenced by the utter joy of finally attending school. It's your first year.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where most wizarding families are built and made from. Many of your relatives built their name from their experiences as a student in Hogwarts—after all it was in your blood to be ambitious. To dream of the impossible and achieve it by any means. That's why your family house dons the colors of green and silver—a direct allegiance to the house of Slytherin, that of which many of your blood relatives reside during their time as a student.

While being excited about Hogwarts was already a given factor as a child of magic, there's also one thing you're most excited about.

"Stop bouncing about, Y/N," Ominis grumbled as he heaved his bag over his shoulder. "We still have to find our damn car."

Your relationship with Ominis did progress in some ways. He's less grouchy now and tolerates your personality enough to let you stay by his side. You've gotten used to its indifference but you think that it's good progress with how he talks more with you albeit still with glares and a cold demeanor.

He pays you no mind as he traverses through the narrow pathway of the train with the guide of his wand. You follow closely behind, hands carrying your suitcase as Ominis guides you to your assigned car.

"I can't help it, I'm literally bursting with energy," You whine as Ominis finally reaches your destination, slides the door open, and places his things inside. He plops down to the farthest corner and leans back to rest. You immediately claim the seat next to him to which he grumbles.

"There's plenty of seats for you to take," He scowls, gesturing to the empty seats in front of you both. You only giggle as you snuggle up next to him.

"Oh don't be such a stone-faced troll, Ominis!" You whine, slapping his arm. He tenses with anger at the gesture. "It's natural for me as your fiancée to be as close to you as possible."

"Stop calling yourself that," His eyebrows furrow in annoyance, jaw clenching in anger. You roll your eyes, not minding his hostility.

"But I am though?"

"I swear to Merlin's name and everything he holds dear, if you don't—"

The slide of the door halts your conversation as your eyes and his head flick toward the sudden disturbance. Two brunettes pop in, one seemingly looking like a direct copy of the other. They blink, eyebrows raised as they stare at the two of you.

"116?" The boy asks with an awkward smile. "Are we interrupting something?"

You pull yourself slowly from Ominis's space at the prospect of new friendships. You smile. "No worries, just a lovers' quarrel. I assume you're the ones we'll share the car with?"

"There is no lovers' quarrel." Ominis firmly states. The two purse their lips in slight hesitance. "Please, do join us though. Merlin knows I need it."

The two then make their way to sit in the remaining two empty seats, placing their luggage in the compartment under. You smile as they settle down in their seats, bright smiles plastered on their faces.

"Right," The boy starts. "Uh, I'm Sebastian Sallow and this is my sister, Anne. It's nice to meet you both."

You nod excitedly at the introduction, delighted to make friends at the present opportunity.

"I'm Y/N Rosier," You respond. You then gesture to the blonde next to you. "And this is Ominis Gaunt, my fian—"

"Friend." Ominis cuts through, overpowering your voice. You turn to him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. "They mean friend."

The twins glanced at the two of you, puzzled by the shifting of the balance in your dynamics. Anne breaks the silence.

"Well, we'll be spending quite a long while here, I hope to make your acquaintance," The Sallow girl beams. Sebastian nods at his sister's words while Ominis responds with a hum of agreement.

There's not much to say when the group falls into silence once more. The four of you were strangers after all, still not used to the presence of someone new but the feeling is welcomed.

Your eyes glance at Ominis who seems to have been resting his eyes, leaning his head against the wall—waiting for the train to begin its course. The corner of your lips curl up at his iridescent beauty.

The train sounds its whistle beginning your journey.

"Are you dumb?"

Imelda blatantly states as she stares at you with disinterest in her eyes. She takes a bite of her apple. "Or just purely ignorant of what's actually happening?"

On your 3rd year at Hogwarts, you somehow get grounded to reality through the presence of Imelda Reyes.

You suppose it's all in due time that you'd be awakened from the trauma-inducing nightmare of tradition and sacred rules of your family. The need to fulfill your role. To give Ominis a home he needs, a family he wants, and a lover he deserves. You suppose that your role overshadowed your judgment of his character and behavior.

You had gotten used to it. To his blatant ignorance of your efforts, the glares, sarcastic comments, seething scoffs, or the fact that sometimes, he doesn't see you at all.

He's always like this, you think. You were never bothered by his indifference. You believed that you could love him enough for the both of you.

You were stupidly wrong about that too.

Sebastian and Anne are terrific company. After being acquainted in your first year, your little group had been formed then and there. The two of them stayed for the past 2 years and you were truly grateful for them. However, the twins were mostly close to Ominis. You didn't mind the gaps between you and the siblings seeing as you prioritized your relationship with Ominis more than anything.

You never really considered it to be a bad thing.

That is until Imelda begins to scratch at the surface of your finely built walls.

You purse your lips, minding your own business as you continue to sew a new stitch into the stretched fabric. You were unfortunate enough to share the dorm room with Imelda and while you enjoyed the rambunctious' Slytherin Quidditch Captain's companionship, this was certainly not something you'd rather talk with her. Everything was fine and there was no need to nitpick at every detail.

Your needle pokes through the hole, goes in, then out—thread sliding swiftly in the path you've carved out for it.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Imelda," You try to deflect her inquisitive nature. She rolls her eyes.

"It's just–" She pauses to readjust her position, leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees—she eyes you with keen interest. "I'm truly amazed how you've gone 3 years with him."

You glance up at her with furrowed eyebrows. "Stop speaking ill of Ominis."

Imelda lets out a loud laugh at your response. "And you even dare to defend him? Are you sure you're not dumb?"

You forcefully drop your sewing tools on your lap as you heave a sigh at her words. You turn to face her fully. "What do you want?"

"Why stay?" She responds, direct. She takes another bite of the apple.

There's a momentary pause of silence as the question rings in your mind. You had half a mind to just drop the conversation and leave but some part of you somehow wanted to defend yourself.

"He's just Ominis. He's always been like that," You respond, chest puffed in self-proclaimed confidence. "We grew up together. We're promised for each other. That's all I need—"

A sudden burst of laughter from Imelda catches you off guard. You flinch in surprise as you watch the brunette Slytherin double down in laughter. Somehow, the clawing feeling inside you becomes more prominent with each giggle and huff from the woman's lips. Your nail begins to scratch at the skin of your thumb.

"H-Holy shit," Imelda sighs in laughter, brushing off a stray tear. She giggles a few more times before finally settling down with a smile. "You're worse than I thought."

She tilts her head with a condescending look on her face.

"Have you ever seen him with the twins? Alone?" She asks. That sets off wave after wave of uncomfortable thumping within your chest. You let out a shaky breath. "I suppose you don't because you're always so focused on your dearest fiance—Actually, y'know! If you just tried to properly look at him. Maybe, just maybe, you'd finally get a grasp of yourself."

Your jaw clenches and palms sweat.

"Stop it." You try to get a hold of yourself. To take control of the situation and get a grip on your thoughts that seem to get more and more chaotic as time passes. However, despite your tries, Imelda overpowers you once more.

"Y/N," She leans forward to rest her arms on the wooden surface of the table. "Maybe, you don't know much about him at all."

Your eyes are locked on hers at the prompt of her words. You can't bring yourself to deny despite the flurry of emotions bursting within you. She tilts her head and gives you a sympathetic look.

You walked out with no response.

On your 5th year, the presence of a new student shook the halls of Hogwarts.

It was uncommon, of course, that a wizard would get admitted at such a late year and while the idea of a new 5th year would turn a few heads in curiosity, this was not the only source of attention.

Over the course of the first few days back to school, you hear talks of the new 5th year's incredible feats of surviving against a dragon attack. There were exaggerations, of course, and different variants of the story with how widespread the gossip had reached, but it all reached the same conclusion at the end.

This new girl had already made her mark as a formidable wizard.

You admired her at first, wanting to know how she did it and what brought on such circumstances. However, there was a slight uncomfortable nagging deep within the depths of your heart at your first meeting. While you felt regretful of such impression despite her kind deportment, you still felt uneasy at the arrival of her presence.

It was probably partly because of Anne's leave of absence since the start of your 5th year. Sebastian was quite privy to the details concerning Anne's sudden absence. You knew she was sick, but other than that, you were quite left in the dark. You convinced yourself that maybe Sebastian feels conflicted when talking about it, and his sudden avoidance of you bringing up the topic proves a testament to that. However, you've seen him and Ominis on the train when you came back after getting refreshments. You've seen Ominis give him a comforting hug—an affection you've barely received from him if there was any at all. You've seen Sebastian tap Ominis to stop talking whenever you enter the room.

People tend to have that misconception that you're awfully unaware of your surroundings due to you being characterized as a 'pushover.' You knew that your bond with Ominis or Sebastian was way different than what they had for each other. You knew it and chose not to dwell too much on the semantics. You'd rather focus on Ominis. On being the person he deserves.

This was solidified when Sebastian began including her in your lunch hangouts.

You were unfortunate enough to be separated from Sebastian and Ominis for your Potions lecture. You had to scour across the castle just to get with them for lunch. They were usually at the same place—lounging around in the Defense against the Dark Arts Tower or the Undercroft.

This time, however, you were finding it quite hard to spot the two.

"Look," Lydia Parkinson, a Ravenclaw from your year, twirls the cup of drink in her hand as she lazily looks up at you due to the lulling atmosphere of the afternoon. "Maybe you could just have lunch with us. Just saying."

Seated beside Lydia is Ren Aries, your potions seatmate (also a Ravenclaw). She has rumored romantic ties with Sebastian, which brought you to their spot in the Great Hall in the first place. Who else would know Ominis's best friend better than you?

Your eyes turn to Ren, who merely rests her chin on her palm propped up by her elbow on the table. "Don't look at me."

"You're basically dating!" You whine, hands grabbing on your books tighter. "Of course, you know where he is."

"No, we're not." Ren answers swiftly.

"Wrong." Lydia raises a breadstick and accusingly points it at Ren.

"Is she talking to you? I don't think so." Ren swats her hand away, causing the breadstick to fly across the table and into a group of first years. The three of you immediately turn your heads, not willing to face the confused glances on their faces.

Just as the first years begin to mind their own business, Lydia begins to lean in with pursed lips. "Well, I might've heard that the two left the Great Hall with the new fifth—"

Suddenly a loud slap intercepts her words. You flinch back at the sudden movement, watching as Lydia rubs her arm as she crumples over the table. Ren sends a glare toward Lydia before turning to you with a half-lidded stare.

"Don't mind her. She's delirious after drinking the pumpkin juice." Ren intercepts easily, not minding her best friend wincing beside her. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"I heard what she said?'

"No you didn't."

"I mean ..." You trailed off, eyes glancing between the two. "I just heard her say the new fifth year."

There's an uncomfortable silence as the two gaze at you with an unreadable stare. Somehow, this gaze seems quite familiar. You've seen it from Imelda, from Anne during your short moments together, and now these two. A budding stem of annoyance begins to grow in your skin.

"Why are you looking at me like that? They're probably just hanging out." You shrug it off like you've always had. It is no use fretting over such simple matters.

"Sure they are—" Lydia chuckles before Ren sends a nudge to her ribs. The redhead merely groans and grabs at the edge of the table. You look at her in concern.

"As I said, delirious." Ren lightly curls the corners of her lips to give you a polite smile. There's a pause of silence before Ren sighs—eyes gazing with an unreadable expression on her face. Your fingers twitch at its familiarity.

"They're in the Undercroft, Y/N." She says, nodding slightly. There's a slight hesitance to her tone of response as if telling you where they were wasn't something she was supposed to be doing. "Sebastian dropped by our table to tell me that, just in case I wanted to join."

Sebastian referred to Ren. Just in case she wanted to join. You wanted to ask if Ominis at least told her to tell you, but you're too much of a coward to do that.

You couldn't will yourself to look at her eyes, afraid that you might finally recognize the emotion that lingers in the depths of her mind. You suppose the inquisitive and empathetic nature of Ravenclaw runs deep within Ren's blood.

You nod as a thanks and left without a word.

You hear laughter first. Your footsteps halt at the archway of the Undercroft—breath faltering as your eyes find the familiar tufts of blonde you've grown to love over the years.

Normally, you would've already bounced over to him, reveling in his attention no matter how negative or neutral it might appear. You would've teased him and wormed your way into his arms.

However, things were quite different from where you were standing.

You hadn't had the opportunity to meet the new 5th year. You only relied on hushed whispers and murmurs across the halls of Hogwarts just to get a glimpse of what she was actually like. You take slow steps towards the source of laughter, eyes trained on their figures—smiles, and gleeful expressions plastered on their faces.

You're caught off guard by the unfamiliar presence of the new fifth year—hair as dark as midnight with a touch of silver strands that decorate the front of her hair like the stars that litter the sky. She's as pretty as they say, as radiant as they whispered about, and evokes the aura of a true born wizard.

However, the true reason for her shock lies in the fact that Ominis—the man she'd known to be stoic, unmoving, and unphased, was laughing. Ominis was laughing.

"Oh, Y/N." It's Sebastian who notices you first. You flinched at the greeting, watching as the other two paused—the new fifth year turning towards you with wide curious eyes, and Ominis subtly turned his head away from you. Your breath hitches at his actions. Sebastian awkwardly glances between the two of you. "I think this is the first time you actually met Nora. Nora, this is Y/N Rosier. Y/N, this is Nora Finley."

Nora waves at you with a smile. "Hi Y/N. Hope you don't mind me intruding."

"None at all." You reply eyes glancing at Ominis who continues to have his back towards you. You decide to continue the conversation. "I was looking for you guys. I thought we were going to have lunch."

"Oh," Sebastian scratches the back of his head, hesitantly glancing at Ominis who continuously remains silent and indifferent. "We already had lunch. Sorry."

You slowly nod in an understanding, a stiff smile plastered on your face.

"That was because you were too hungry to wait," Nora intercepts with joking shove. "Apologies, Y/N. I didn't know they were waiting for someone else."

Your finger twitches slightly at her words. "It's fine."

"I was waiting for Ren! Ominis was just being an asshole." Sebastian defends himself which earns a slap on the arm from Nora. Then, you suddenly hear Ominis speak up.

"Not my fault you were actually coward enough to not go to her yourself," Ominis says. This earns a laugh from Nora who bumps her shoulders against Ominis. "I had to pull you over." The three laugh at the situation at hand, faces plastered with glee and comfort.

So Ominis was there, with Ren and the others. Yet no one thought of telling you where they were. An anxious heavy feeling settles over your chest.

Suddenly, you feel out of place. Your ears ring, zoning out, as their motion becomes more distorted in your eyes. You feel as though you shouldn't be here—that you're the one intruding instead. The ache overwhelms you.

Your feet shuffle a few steps back. "I-I'll get going." You say, voice weak as you announce your departure. Sebastian gives you a moment's glance before nodding. Nora gives you a big wave (you feel bad, she's too much of an angel). However another reason piles onto your aching heart—mind in a daze as it beats fast with anxiety.

Ominis had not once acknowledge your presence.

You leave with your dignity intact.

Seeing Nora is now a regular occurrence.

You didn't mind it at first. You liked the girl. She was a social butterfly, easy to talk to, and her presence brought comfort whenever she was around. You couldn't argue the comfortable nature of Sebastian and Ominis around her. While you were also a generally talkative and social person, it still varied among your peers. Your personality often ventures between the lines of introvert and extrovert—only becoming active to a certain amount of people, and silent to the rest.

However, despite your positive impression on Nora, there was also the case between her and Ominis. You've seen them hanging about in various points of the castle. Even going out together when they leave classes. You haven't had much alone time to spend with Ominis as he somehow begins to become more non-approachable and cold as days pass by. Somehow, he becomes more indifferent than before.

Back then, Ominis indulges in your whims despite his initial opposition. You suppose it's probably to get you to stop, but he had always listened—one way or another. Now, he merely leaves without a word—cutting you off mid-talk and bouncing off to Nora who had just entered the room.

Your heart begins to waver and your breath speeds up. You couldn't deny the hurt that flows through you with each indifferent response of your fiance. Your fiance. He was yours as much as you were his.

So why does it feel like you're the one intruding?

"What do you think we should get Anne, Omi?" You smile, siding up to Ominis whose hands run through the braille engraved on his book. "Do you think we should get her some scented candles?"

"Anne has a sensitive nose." Ominis furrows his eyebrows before slightly tilting his head towards you. "Didn't you know that?"

"I did!" You respond with a defensive tone. Of course, you did. Anne was your friend. "I was going to buy her those simple scented candles. Just to help her with the stress."

Ominis scoffs at your words before going back to reading his book. Just as you inquire a little more about his day, you hear Nora and Sebastian chattering as they reach your spot. You were about to greet them when you felt Ominis nudge your hold away from his arm. You flinch at its intensity as he rises from his seat to walk towards the two—specifically in Nora's direction.

Your heart thumps loudly against your chest, knocking against your ribs like an ache you can't explain. You sit silently, eyes watching as they chatter amongst themselves. The looming realization begins to crawl under your skin, chipping at you—limb from limb. Your breath falters.

"Y/N!" Nora greets like the angel that she is. You smile back, albeit forced and hesitant but welcomed her warmth with open arms. She slides up to you, before calling over the two. They follow with ease. You feel Nora's arm intertwine with yours, thumbing the cloth of your robe.

Just as the two have finally settled down, Nora begins the conversation. "I'm glad you don't have DADA with these two. It's always a chaos."

You nod, still quite perplexed by the whole situation. "Really?"

"Please, Nora." Sebastian teases, arms propped on the table. "Just say you're mad that I beat you at a duel."

"Throwing a ragged cloth to my face before casting a Levioso isn't a win that you think it is." Ominis intercepts with a disappointed shake of his head.

"Blah, blah. Looks like a skill issue to me." Sebastian leans back, arms crossed over his chest. He rolls his eyes playfully. "Life isn't fair on the battlefield, Finley."

Nora turns to you with a scrunched nose. "Are you really friends with these guys?"

You find yourself pausing at her question. Thankfully, she laughs afterward, pulling tease after teasing towards Sallow. The question begins to etch into your brain as your mind conjured every possible interaction you had with Sebastian. Was he even your friend? You remember the silence and the awkward tensions whenever Ominis had to go to the bathroom or get called up by Professor Weasley. Even before then, when Anne was present in your little group of 4, the twins were always stuck to the hip, if not with Ominis. Never the three of you alone together.

Never with you.

You suppose Imelda was right. Blinded by the idea and concept of love through duty, you unintentionally neglected the possible ties that you could've had with the twins. You felt helpless.

"Oh, yeah. Before I forget, what are we getting Anne this weekend?"

Your head turn towards Nora in surprise. "You're coming?"

There's a momentary pause at your question. You wouldn't have minded it before, but now you feel the stares clawing at your skin.

"Of course, she is." Ominis replies with a tone of disbelief. "Don't be ridiculous."

"She hasn't met Anne, though? I don't think—"

"Don't speak for my sister, Y/N." Sebastian cuts through the tension with an offhanded response. You turn towards him in surprise. Nora shifts uncomfortably beside you. "We already planned this. Let's just go with it."

"You didn't tell me anything?" You're not sure as to why your voice suddenly begins to rise. Your hands clench under the table.

"My bad?" Sebastian shakes his head in confusion, as if he's the one incovenienced. "Listen up, next time then? Instead of you know—ogling Ominis, all the time?"

"Sebastian!" Nora calls out, perplexed at the sudden hostility. The brown-haired Slytherin merely turns his head away. A dreadful feeling submerges over your body as you glance at Ominis who sports an indifferent look in his face. There's a paused silence before Sebastian stands from his seat.

"Where are you going?" Nora asks, worried.

"Out. I'm floo-ing to Hogsmeade for the gift. Catch up if you guys want to." Sebastian mumbles in response. He leaves abruptly, robe trailing behind him.

Just as you were about to turn to Ominis, he stands up. "Omi?"

"You should've known better." Ominis mutters. Your breath hitches at his words. He follows through with Sebastian. Your hand clenches into a fist.

"Y/N," Nora grasps at your arm with slight comfort. You couldn't be mad at her even if you wanted to. "Are you okay?"

Your head is lowered, hair framing your face as you try to gather your emotions. You then turn towards her with a smile you've practiced from your childhood days.

"I'm fine."

The silence was unbearable.

You're not sure when was the last time you and Ominis were seated together in a room, alone—much less the receiving room of your manor. You can feel the nervousness clawing up your throat. Your mother had persisted on the two of you visiting the manor during your winter break. You wanted to accept the invitation at first, seeing as this was an opportunity to spend time with Ominis.

But seeing the disdain on his face as soon as you told him the news, somehow regret only fills your body. You had no choice either way.

"Is Hogwarts treating you well?" Your mother sips her tea with the elegance fitting for her role as the matriarch of the house. You shift in your seat, uneasy from her attention.

"Well enough," Ominis answers from your side. His face lacks the enthusiasm of talking to your family.

Your mother furrows her eyebrows at the response but doesn't say anything regardless. "I do hope you're both preparing for your engagement once you graduate in 2 years. Merlin knows how much both of our families have prepared for it."

You nod submissively, unable to resist the pointed stare your mother gives you. Ominis stands abruptly at her words, not opting to pardon himself as he walks out of the room. There's paused silence before your mother scoffs.

"Insolent child," She seethes, taking a sip out of her cup. "If it weren't for his family name and heritage, we would've found you a more suitable heir to marry. Merlin knows his family's treating him like a dispensable asset, when his brother's already married and up to take the role as head of the house."

You sit silently, eyes focused on the untouched cup of tea. Your mother's voice booms through the room, causing you to flinch at its sudden intensity.

"Go after him, Y/N. Beg on your knees if you have to. Keep him tied to the leash before he goes off pawing at others." Your mother orders. "Your sister's a testament to that. Do I make myself clear?"

Your mother's word was law. Everyone in the house knew that. Even your father, who is recognized as the head of the house. She easily controls those around her to do her bidding, and those who resist are met with dire consequences. You'd rather be by her side than against her blade.

"Yes, mother."

You found him by the courtyard.

Your family dog, an Alpine Mastiff that was gifted for your father by a collector of muggle creature, pants against his lap—enjoying the gentle caresses that Ominis runs through his fur. He sits against the huge tree in the middle, the leaves giving his face a gentle shade from the light. You make careful steps before standing in front of him.

"Feeling lethargic, Omi?" You smile. The dog, Xavier, looks up at you with its sleepy eyes before yawning against Ominis's touch.

"I told you to stop calling me that." He replies, eyes devoid of emotion. He merely runs back and forth Xavier's fur as if its stimulation calms his nerves.

"You never allow me to call you anything." You retort, voice calm as you look down at him with a forlorn expression. He doesn't need to know that.

Ominis shakes his head, a sarcastic smile on his lips. "That's because we're not friends."

You purse your lips before responding. "If you say stuff like that, I'll get hurt, Omi."

Ominis chuckles. "You've bound me to your chains, made me a spectacle with your jokes, and you're worried about getting hurt over the truth?"

You stared at him as he continues to pet the massive dog on his lap. You've gone through this routine before, and you'll go through it again. Why get hurt now?

There's a miniscule pause of silence before you let out a laugh at his words. "So touchy with everything, Omi. You really hate me that much?"

It's a joke. Don't take it to heart.

"Yes," He answers with no hesitation, face devoid of any emotion. He finally looks up and its as if those beautiful cloudy blue eyes could stare through you. "Yes, I do."

It's not true.

You've observed Ominis enough to know what he's thinking.

As much as others regarded him as an intimidating figure, he quite wears his heart on his sleeve. You know when he's angry, when he's joking, being sarcastic, sad, or whatever version of Ominis you're facing for the day. You didn't spend 8 years of your life loving him just for you to not recognize every detail on his face.

You've known him well enough to recognize patterns on his behavior, subtle differences to his emotions, and his current mood of the day. If anything, you're well versed in Ominis's body language, that you've grown well accustomed to how you act around him based on it.

That's why besides you're being hit with two realities, instead of one.

You've watched them from across the hall, chatting up a storm as the three of them were huddled in the corner. You've long since opted to observing them rather than being in the group itself, and ever since then, you've begin noticing things you weren't supposed to.

"What's got you looking so focused there?" Imelda's voice reaches your senses as a figure settles beside you. You give her a glance before looking back at the trio. She hums, following your line of sight. "Looking at your asshole of a lover boy again?"

"Don't I ever?" You sarcastically remark, laughing slightly. Imelda looks at you with a slight raise of her eyebrow.

"Wow," She nods. "That's improvement. You don't make sarcastic remarks when I point out your obsession with white boy over there."

You glance at her, heaving a breath as you contemplated letting Imelda know of your thoughts as of late. You suppose that she's the only person who has been real with you since the start. Everything's been a blur since your visit with Ominis to your manor. You've been trying your hardest to appear normal but things had just gone way off. You've started to distance yourself as well, only responding when asked or talked to—which most of the case is Nora's doing. Though, with Sebastian's constant needs for adventure and Nora's inquisitive nature, she had also lost the attention towards your interaction with the group.

With Ominis, you knew well enough that wherever Nora and Sebastian went, he went to as well. You've seen the three of them flee the Great Hall, not minding your lack of presence to the group. 4 years as a group of friends and 8 years with Ominis, and they haven't had a single thought about you that passed through their minds.

You suppose you should've gotten used to their exclusion to your presence. You're partly aware that this is due to the engagement between you and Ominis, how much he despises the centuries-old tradition of marrying those of the same stature as he is. How much he detests the forced nature of your relationship. You wished you had the power to null it, to start over, and meet him under different circumstances. To dream of a reality where he actually finds love in you, and wishes for a future with you in it.

But alas, life is hard for someone like you. To hold so much authority within your fingertips but be shackled by tradition and generational trauma. You've long accepted your demise.

"Ominis likes Nora." The words slips out of your mouth with ease. Like what you just said was something out of the news. Imelda chokes at what she hears. You look at her with concern.

"E-excuse me?"

"Ominis likes Nora." You repeat calmly. Imelda sweatdrops, moving to stand in front of you as she analyzed your facial expression.

"You're saying that like it's the weather—are you okay?" She asks, worried.

You shrug, eyes looking down at your twiddling thumbs. "It's inevitable. Everyone knows about it, no?"

Imelda pauses, face cringing as she places her hands on her hips. You chuckle at the silent admission. "I'm always a bit too late."

"Look, Y/N," She sighs, taking a step forward as she places a hand on your arm. "Ominis was doomed to be your fiance from the start. He's an asshole and just overall rude! You've got nothing much to lose anyway!"

Your tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip before pulling between your teeth. "I do. That's not how it works, Imelda."

You glance up at her, finally meeting her concerned eyes. She lets out a breath at your forlorn expression.

"I always knew Ominis didn't like what we had. I've spent most of my childhood years with him to not know the familiarity of his disdain." You reply. You recall the times you've received cold and indifferent actions from him. "He's made himself clear. I was always the one who wanted more."

"Y/N," Imelda sighs.

"I don't think Ominis ever considered me to be someone dear to him," You whispered. "I had always been something he easily cast aside. A nuisance—I've seen the way he whispers to Sebastian whenever I've said something they considered out of line. I was never something he deemed important."

Imelda is silent. You heave a sigh.

"He's happy now." You mutter. "Nora's everything I'm not, and even if I wanted to hate her, despise her—she's so pure and likeable that it's so unfair. Why is it so unfair?"

You feel tears well in your eyes. Imelda's breath hitches at the sight. She looks around, trying to see if anyone was watching. She then hears the familiar voices of the three. Soon enough she sees them walking over to pass by their area. Imelda did what she could only think of.

She pulls her off her robe before throwing it over your head, shielding you from their stares. She pulls you in her arms as the three near towards you. You couldn't see a thing but you could hear them.

"... Imelda?" Sebastian's voice comes out as confused, probably because of her hooded figure. "What's up?"

"Hey!" Imelda smiles, hands making gentle pats to your back. "Friend's not feeling well. Hope you don't mind."

There's pause of silence before Ominis responds. You feel your heart speed up. "Ah, hope they'll feel better."

"They hear that quite well!" Imelda responds with enthusiasm. You slump against her hold, feeling lethargic from thinking.

"Alright, we'll get going." Sebastian waves before the two follow them off. Just as the three of them began to make their way down the hall, you hear Nora suddenly backtrack.

"Ah, by the way, if you do see Y/N around, tell her that Professor Weasley's asking for her?" Nora says. Your body freezes and its as if Imelda had felt it as she had pulled you closer.

"S-sure." Imelda responds. The three of them began to go on their way, chatting and laughing as they disappear down the hall.

Imelda finally pulls her robe off you, eyes filled with concern. "Y/N ..."

"They knew I wasn't around," You mumble, breath trembling, and eyes devoid of emotion. "They knew. He knew."

Imelda raises a hand to fix your hair before smiling. "There's nothing much I can say that will be of help, but I do hope that you'll take care of yourself—Of what you'll do from here on out."

You pause at her words before nodding silently.

The realization settles in and its heartbreaking and grueling. However, despite that, things haven't been much clearer than before. You'll set things right. For him. For yourself.

Because love is your greatest weakness, no? Your greatest threat. Love for him, and love for your family.

Whichever will prevail?

A/N: before yall ask, yes this will have a part 2 ... i just really wanted to finish this and it went beyond what ive planned. stay tuned mwehe!!! this will not have a happy ending btw. the title daffodil's camellia is in reference to their meaning in love. daffodil can mean new beginnings but it can also mean unrequited love, camellia means romantic love or devotion. just wanted to let yall know that!

[nymphomatique]

You know, I really like your nerdy!Miguel and slutty!reader💅 Chef kiss💯

May I request a drabble where reader is going to meet her parents and she's really not happy about it? (Basically they are emotionally abusive towards her)

How would Miguel react if she just, you know, cries in his shoulder instead of fucking him like she always does?

(I'm just really into agnst sometimes, my apologies ⊂(・﹏・⊂))

P.s. English in not my first language, so I hope I wrote everything clear.

Thanks for you work!!

yes baby! and your english is perfect 🫶🏾 i hope i did ur request justice!

cw: feelings, reader going through it, emotionally neglectful parents, just a lot of feelings fr. brief mentions of sex i think, erm and barely proofread. enjoy!

you sat at your vanity in your dorm room, simply looking at yourself in the mirror. you felt like your stomach was going to drop out of your ass. you take a deep breath and hold it for a moment, hoping, praying, it grounds you.

within the reflection of your mirror, your eyes couldn’t help but focus on the figure sitting on your bed, nose buried in their laptop screen. you called miguel over with the intention of letting off steam at first, but the more you thought about it, the less it sounded like a good choice to make. so, you told him to make himself comfortable and keep you company, not without some snark of course. you feel bad sometimes, for snapping at him, letting out your anger on him, knowing he will take anything off your shoulders to bare upon his own. it crushes you inside to think about how you treat someone you care deeply about, even if you deny it to yourself.

your eyes meet in the mirror and miguel catches you looking, offering a warm smile in exchange. the moment is brief, and he returns his focus to whatever he was doing on his laptop, but as minuscule the moment, the more you feel yourself unraveling. a burning feeling crawls up your nose and you bow your head down, your face pulling downward. fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. please don’t leave me. i need you. your mind feels overwhelmed, and you can’t help the tears from falling down your cheek. you let them fall one by one, shame, guilt, and anxiety building up the more your tears spill.

your ears are ringing, you can’t. you can’t feel, you can’t see, you can’t breathe. a sob from deep within you leaves your mouth and you drop your forehead to your vanity, letting your emotion take over you. you can’t hear the soft lulling of music that you were playing while getting ready anymore, not the typing of keys from miguel. you’re so disoriented. when you feel something, someone strong and stable lift you up and bring you down onto your bed, your chest to its chest, you don’t question it. you know what it is. who it is. you let thick arms hold you, keep you together as you burst from the seams, the soft cooing and kissing lull your tears into a soft hiccup. the soft circles miguel rubs around your upper back make you realize what just happened and you’re embarrassed.

“i- i don’t- i can’t believe i-” you begin, but you’re interrupted by a soft squeeze from miguel.

“s’okay, baby,” he says softly, kissing the top of your head. “talk to me? please?”

and you decide you owe this moment of vulnerability to him, and yourself. and so, you take a shaky breath, and tell him why you panicked the way you did.

“my- my parents.. they..”

those words open a floodgate of bad memories and feelings. you tell him about everything. you tell him how your father and mother were emotionally absent. how they threw money at you when you needed them the most. how even at your lowest, your parents never cared for what they can do for you beyond the monetary.

you tell him about one moment in particular. where you were in first grade, you remember clearly. it was a day where you had to put together a career project based on one of your parents and have them sit and watch you present. and you remember being there’s, so little, so young, so expectant. watching everyone go one by one while you begged your teacher to wait for your parents to come because they promised! and you sat, and you watched the classroom door, and you waited until it was your turn. even as you presented, shaky voice and mispronounced words, you still held onto hope that they would come see you present even the last word to leave from your mouth.

but nothing. you sat back down and went through the rest of the day feeling sad and upset, but moreover lonely. you wish you had your parents.

“i remember asking them why they never came,” you sniffle, and miguel hugs you tight in his strong embrace. “straight up told me that it wasn’t worth their time.” the wounds of the old memory still feel fresh as you reminisce on them, years later.

“i will always be there when you need me. you’re forever and always worth my time,” miguel says, kissing your head. you’re silent, but you soak in his words. you know how you feel about him. i love you so fucking much that i hate you.

“m’supposed to meet them for dinner,” you breathe out, sitting up from miguel’s embrace. still, you reach to hold his hand tightly.

“you’ll be okay, baby. i’ll pick you up, and drop you off. anything happens, you call me and i’m there, yeah?” miguel whispers, running his hand up and down your thigh affectionately.

“yeah.”

when miguel drops you off, you take a moment to look in the fancy restaurant they’re both sat in. you look back at miguel and he reassures you once more, that “i will always be here when you need me.”

you lean in across the dash, pulling him into a deep kiss. “thank you.”

you finally get out of the car, but miguel watches you the whole way through, waiting until you walk in. your heart starts pounding but you remember when he said. i will always be here when you need me. i will always be here when you need me. i will always be here when you need me.

a reassuring breath calms you only slightly, but you walk in. your eyes flit to and fro in the dinning room, but when you hear boisterous laughter and haughty conversation in a booth ahead of you, you know they are your parents. you walk over to the table, not faulting when the mood fizzles, and a stale expression crosses both your mother and fathers faces.

“mother. father.” you sit across from them, your heart beating out of its chest. and you’re ready to take on your parents, knowing you have someone, miguel, who will always be there when you need him.