#I love them but i find their parenting choices highly questionable | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

primehyuck · 1 year ago

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MOVES

aka good things take time (the happy ending version)

word count: 11.3k

i first started writing this because i’ve been listening to the song Moves by Suki Waterhouse on repeat, but it became much more than that

contents: long time best friend!haechan, slice of life, pining and yearning, chronological time jumps (mostly college and young adulthood), other members mentioned (Mark and Jeno!roommates), kissing, fluff, wet dreams, a good example of two people who seriously need to communicate, face sitting, morning sex, lots of pet names

“Do you think we’ll be friends for a long time?” Haechan’s soft voice distracts your attempt to focus on a blade of the blurry ceiling fan, unable to keep you cool despite it spinning so fast you think it might fly away.

“How do you mean?” the bed squeaks when Haechan sits up to lean over you.

“Growing up, I feel like my parents didn’t have many friends aside from each other. My mom told me that it’s because when you get older your priorities change and you realize who adds value to your life, and that’s who you decide to keep.” His eyes are glowing with sincerity, body blocking the flow of air from touching you at all “so when we’re older, and married with kids and other priorities, and we maybe live in different cities, do you think we’ll still be friends?”

You stare at him for a moment before shoving his face out of the way of the fans air stream.

“Definitely,” your confidence soothes him enough that he lays back down “if I ever muster up the creativity to come up with a reason to stop being your friend, you have to swear you’ll tell me how stupid I’m being, swear to me.” you smack his chest before he can even answer.

“I swear!” He smiles to himself, staring up at the ceiling with you, rubbing his hand over the warm spot where your hand made contact, melting into the mattress.

———

Growing up people always joked that Haechan and you would fall in love, that it was inevitable, practical even. Because, if you fall in love with your best friend you’ve already conquered one of the highest mountains - finding someone that you like, and who likes you back.

You had both seen the other in a relationship, an inevitability when you’ve been friends with someone since puberty. He’d cheered you on when you had your first kiss during a game of spin the bottle in high school, forced you to come out on double dates with him and a friend of his you didn’t even like just so he could take someone else out, and freshman year of college he’d even introduced you to the person you'd lost your virginity to.

The only time he cockblocked you was when you tried to get to know any of his friends more than platonically, so eventually you gave up and settled for real friendship with all of them.

“Trust me, you don’t want to touch him with a six foot pole.” He’d said freshman year when you had mentioned your attraction to his roommate, Mark.

“He seems so nice, though.” you pouted

“He is nice, but that doesn’t mean you want to be with him.”

“How would you know what I want?” you scoffed, and he looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Has the wind beneath my wings ever led you into the wrong arms?” He was highly animated, offended that you would question his judgment.

By the start of sophomore year it was obvious to everyone else that you were strictly off limits. All of his friends had decided unanimously that even if you did attempt anything with them they had no choice but to shut you down. The cold stare Haechan unknowingly serves them from across the room whenever they got too close was enough to keep them away. None of the boys ever minded the boundaries with you, there always was an ease in your friendship since they all knew it could never go further, but that didn’t mean they never thought about the possibility.

One night, at the end of junior year, Haechan is nowhere to be found at his own party and you graciously accept Jeno’s invitation upstairs when you complain of a headache, “we can play Mario Kart, and it won’t be all competitive like when Haechan plays with us.”

It starts like normal, and you're having fun when you realize that your tipsy brain can’t focus on the screen and the conversation simultaneously, opting for the latter as you relax into Jeno’s pillows. You don’t even notice him inching closer to you until his nose touches yours, tugging at a strand of your hair. This is the first time any of Haechan’s friends have shown interest in you, you’d never even been on the receiving end of a flirtatious stare from across the beer pong table, so you take the reins.

Kissing Jeno feels a little bit like winning, like you’ve finally made it past the invisible forcefield Haechan had put up around his friends. The kiss is lazy and hot, Jeno props himself up on one elbow and presses your back into the mattress with his chest. Your eager fingers run beneath his shirt, his abs tightening when you trail them over his sides. Your spine tingles when he groans into your mouth, the hand on your cheek moving to grip your knee and hike your leg over his hip. His hand holds strong around your thigh, and you sigh when he grinds into you.

Jeno pulls away too soon, stopping your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt with a pained sigh as he drops your leg to roll onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes.

“Fuck, I should not be doing this with you.”

“Why, you don’t want to?” You want to curl into yourself, sitting up to stare down at his shaking head.

“No, definitely not that.” he pulls his arm away to meet your eyes, the alcohol in his veins making him brave enough to admit “Haechan would be pissed.”

“Haechan?” you question “did he say something to you?” Jeno groans, sitting up and hooking his elbows around his knees, staring at the mattress between his legs.

“No, no. He’s never actually said anything,” he knows he’s revealing too much, but he also knows he’s gone too far to stop “we just know he would never want us to cross that line with you.”

“We?” you can feel embarrassment bubbling in your chest at the idea of all of your friends talking about this.

“Yeah, you know, all the guys. We figured you were just off limits, I don’t know.” he grimaces, looking up at you with apologetic eyes when you don’t respond. You huff and climb off the bed, feeling rejected in more ways than one.

You’d crossed a boundary tonight, but Jeno was still a close friend, someone you’d spent a lot of time with since he met Haechan freshman year. He still knows you, so he grabs your wrist before you can leave, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed so he can stand you between his legs.

“I’m sorry, don’t be mad.” He envelops your hands in his and brings them to his chest.

“I’m not mad,” you mumble, avoiding his apologetic gaze “I’m embarrassed that all of my friends agreed not to touch me.”

“Did you really think not a single one of us was ever interested in you?” you shrug and he squeezes your hands tighter, heart tugging in his chest.

“When people don’t act interested, that’s usually a safe assumption.” you pout and Jeno’s laugh buzzes through your linked fingers "I gave up on all of you halfway through freshman year."

“Well, some of us are better actors than I remember.”

He has you laughing by the time you leave his room, sealing the night with one more self indulgent kiss and a pinky swear to never tell Haechan about what happened.

———

Halfway through the first semester of senior year Haechan bangs angrily on his roommates door before swinging it open and Jeno is genuinely shocked that it's taken this long for the gossip to hit his ears. The rest of the boys had clocked Jeno the next morning for being ‘too happy’ and he had to make them all swear not to tell, wanting to protect your pride and his own friendship with Haechan.

"You slut!" Haechan points an accusatory finger in Jeno's direction, dragging his feet slowly toward him until he's so close Jeno has to bat his hand out of his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about." Haechan's voice is low and angry, something new and unpleasant sparking in his gut at the idea of Jeno kissing you, touching you.

"No, I don't." Jeno can’t help but antagonize. Pleased with the perfect opportunity to trick Haechan into saying out loud what everyone else seems to have known for years.

"You kissed my best friend!" He shrieks, tossing his hands up in the air dramatically.

"So what, she's not allowed to kiss people?" Haechan squints his eyes at Jeno’s response, scrunching his nose in annoyance “how did you even find out?”

"She can kiss whoever she wants, it's all of you that aren't allowed to kiss her." Haechan waves his hand wildly toward the bedroom door, alluding to the large group of boys living in the house “you know Mark can’t keep a secret, he’s been bursting at the seams for months. All I had to do was ask.”

"It happened forever ago dude, why are you so pissed? You've never even given us a chance to get close to her in that way, maybe one of us could really like her." Jeno reasons, tugging at Haechan's strings, watching the gears in his brain turn as he tries to come up with a real argument.

"She has a boyfriend," Haechan finally says with a frown at the thought of the guy he’d only recently met, he doesn’t like him at all. From his stupid hair to the shoes he wears, there’s not a thing about your new boyfriend that Haechan thinks is good enough for you. He collapses into the gaming chair across from where Jeno is relaxed on the couch, not having moved at all since Haechan stormed in "plus, I think any of you would know by now, you've all known her for four years."

"I think, that it can take a lot longer than four years to realize how much you like someone." Jeno bites, "how long have you known her?"

"Since middle school." He picks at the hole in the knee of his black jeans, realizing what Jeno is alluding to, defensive exterior quickly crumbling.

"Right, I think that if you're blind enough then it can take ten years to realize how much you like someone."

"Well, maybe ten years is too long and that person missed their chance." Haechan turns his head to stare out the window, anxiously spinning the chair side to side.

"You know I'm talking about you, right?"

"God, yes, I know you're talking about me." Haechan glares at his friend, fidgeting stopping abruptly "and I know I've been a complete idiot about it, but like I said, I’m out of time."

———

Haechan can’t stop his free hand from clenching and unclenching as you sob into your pillow, his less angry hand rubbing over your back.

“He told me he saw us moving in together after graduation,” your voice shakes “how do you look someone in the eyes and say shit like that and then sleep with someone else?”

“I don’t know,” Haechan replies earnestly, feeling as helpful as flip flops in the snow from where he sits on the edge of your mattress “I’m so sorry.”

He takes your silence as an invitation, lying on his stomach, face turned toward you, fingers still drawing soothing circles over your shoulder blades. He waits patiently for you to calm down, unease swarming his stomach knowing that even after years of friendship he can’t truly comfort you in this moment.

“I’m so embarrassed.” you sniffle, smearing your face over your pillow before turning to look at him. He holds his breath, waiting for you to collect yourself enough to explain.

“I’m so gullible, he even told me he’s cheated in the past and for whatever reason I believed that he’d treat me differently, that he’d love me enough.” Haechan has to count to five in his head to stay calm before he speaks.

“You have no reason to be embarrassed. The most natural thing you can do is believe someone when they say they love you.” He murmurs, turning onto his side so he can pull you into a hug. When you curl into his body to bury your face in his chest he can only pray you can’t hear his heart pound against his ribs.

“He’s an idiot, and he didn’t deserve any of the love you gave him. I promise, you’re so much better off.”

Haechan hates the piece of himself that’s relieved your relationship has ended. The same piece that hated your ex the minute he met him, that feels heavy in your absence whenever you’re busy with anyone who isn’t him. The piece that crosses it’s fingers whenever you get this close in hopes that you’ll be the first one to cross the line, to finally do what he’s thought about doing for the last few months since he realized exactly how he felt about you.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his tear dampened shirt, lifting your leg over his to cuddle in even closer “thanks for always being my friend, even when I do dumb shit, like let boys be mean to me.”

He nuzzles his nose into your scalp, eyes fluttering shut at the smell of your shampoo “Thanks for letting me. Besides, even Beyoncé got cheated on, so you clearly aren’t that dumb.” the crowd in his brain cheers when you giggle into his chest.

“You’re so annoying.” He holds you even tighter.

———

“I can’t believe it,” your jaw drops and Haechan whips his head up nervously to look at you from across the couch

“What happened?”

“I got it, I got the job!” you shove his feet off your lap to jump up excitedly, bouncing on your toes as you read the email out loud. Haechan’s ears are ringing so loud he barely catches the first half, trying to shake off the dazed look he’s sure appears on his face.

“We were extremely impressed with your resume and even more so with the impression you left on the board during your interview, blah blah blah, excited to offer you this position, blah blah blah, and a relocation bonus to join us in in our new office!” the pitch of your voice rises a few octaves as you finish reading.

Haechan stares at you from his spot on the couch, eyes wide with shock that you’re too excited to notice, skimming your screen as you re-read the details in your offer letter.

His entire body is buzzing, torn between feeling excited at your accomplishment and sorry for himself.

He had a plan, a really good one, he thought. After your breakup you’d made it painfully clear that you wanted to be single for a while, and he knew if he could just be patient, it would all be worth it. So Haechan decided to bottle his feelings up, sitting patiently by your side where he had been for so many years, waiting for you to heal and hoping that when you were finally ready to start dating again he’d have mustered up the courage to make the first move.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you even listening to me!?” you drop your phone to pull him up off the couch, bouncing up and down with your fingers intertwined “I’m moving to my dream city, to start my dream job.” you reiterate and he snaps out of it, sweeping the imaginary shards of glass that his plan had been made out of under the rug and pulling you into a hug.

“That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.” You deadpan, but squeeze him back just as tight.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to miss you is all.” He admits, "I'd follow you if my job didn't keep me here."

“I’ll make sure you don’t miss me too much, don’t worry.” you plant your cheek on his chest, surprised at the relief you feel in hearing him say it first.

———

This feeling was still a little unfamiliar, nerves. Haechan had never made you nervous growing up; excited, annoyed, passionate maybe, but never nervous.

The nerves began last summer, when he’d come out to visit you for the first time to celebrate his birthday. It was the longest you’d gone without seeing each other since you’d met, almost ten full months and the anticipation was palpable.

When he steps through the airport doors you think that it’s the relief of finally being near him again that knocks the wind out of you. Running into his open arms and being squeezed so tightly in them that you tap his shoulder to let you breathe. Ruffling his hair when he steps back and ignoring the fact that he had grown so much since you’d seen him last.

But as the night goes on, the slight changes to the person you have memorized become glaringly obvious. The way his cheeks have lost some of their cushion, revealing a sharp jaw and pointed cheekbones. The natural wave in his once unruly hair now falling perfectly over his brow bone, he had dyed it a little darker which made his tan skin glow even in dim lighting. Even his smell seemed to draw you into a trance, a much more expensive version of the Haechan you know.

“You know, that group of girls has been staring over at you since we walked in.” You raise your eyebrows playfully, pointing your glass toward the pretty gaggle that keeps walking past the booth you and Haechan occupy.

He doesn’t break eye contact with you before shrugging, “I didn’t come here to see them, I came to see you.” he smiles, punctuating his thought by reaching over the table and tapping your nose.

“I know, I know,” you laugh, batting him away “It never hurts to know when people are staring, though”

His face is unreadable as he rests his arm lazily up over the bench of the booth, body sinking into the seat while he lifts his glass to swirl his drink, biting the words that have been resting on the tip of his tongue the entire trip, and at the end of every phone call since you started your new job.

“How are you, seriously.” You push. In the time since you moved he’d started and ended a relationship with a girl that you’d never met. Your new job kept you so busy that you hadn’t even learned about the breakup until a week later, when you finally had the time to call him back. The guilt of your absence weighs you down, resenting your inability to be there for him the way he had been for you in the past.

“I’m over it, seriously.” You know he’s telling the truth, but it’s in your nature to pry.

“You never really talked about, why, you know.”

“Do I have to?”

“No, I’m sorry, I just feel so behind on your life.” You sigh and push your empty glass to the side, swirling your finger in the ring of cold water it leaves behind.

“It’s okay, really. You’ve been busy, I understand.” He reaches across the table to stop your anxious fingers “I didn’t love her the way I knew I should, that’s all. It’s a good thing that it ended, and I’m happy that it did.”

“That’s all that matters, then.” and he’s grateful that you drop the subject.

You eventually get back to your apartment, both giggly and flush from the alcohol still fogging your brain despite the long walk you'd hoped would lessen it. Haechan holds your hand the whole way back, even when he stops suddenly to pet a dog, dragging you down to the ground with him. He can’t help himself, grateful that at this point you'd touched one another in every way other than what he dreams about most, and you seem oblivious to his need to be so close to you.

As you get ready for bed he lets himself watch you undress facing the wall away from him, unaware of his gaze burning into your backside and the way his fingers tingle at the thought of pulling at the meat of your hips. He scolds his heart for thudding so loud when you squeeze your eyes into a smile at his reflection standing next to yours at the sink while you brush your teeth, the domestication of your friendship that he used to appreciate now suffocating him.

You put on a movie and invite him to rest his head on the pillow in your lap, wishing he could bury his nose into the skin of your thighs beneath it. Halfway through the movie he has to sit up to hide the way his cock is hardening at the feeling of your nails combing through his hair and down his shoulder, occasionally thrumming over his chest. He pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it over his legs as casually as possible, pulling you into his side by your shoulder, the other arm stretched across the back of the couch.

"Are you cold for the first time in your life?" Haechan never wants to use a blanket, but you’re grateful for the position giving you access to bury your face into his chest, gripping his shirt.

"No, just want to be warmer." he presses a blushing cheek onto the top of your head, trying to think of anything except the way your hair smells, or the feeling of the side of your breast brushing his wrist through your shirt. Haechan feels eighteen again and like he's discovering the connection between romantic and sexual feelings for the first time in his life. He tries to match his breathing to yours, holding his breath whenever you shift in his hold and reconnecting his stomach with your back as quickly as possible. The temptation to pour his heart out is overwhelming, but when he feels your body completely relax into his and your breathing slow down, the words become trapped in his throat, so he lets you sleep.

Haechan had never experienced a shorter 48 hours than that weekend he spent following you around the city you now call home.

You’re shining in your new space, and he happily trails behind you to all the places you’ve discovered in the almost year since you moved. His stomach does somersaults whenever you point something out that reminds you of him.

“I’ve been waiting to come here until you could come with me!” you're so excited to take him to the video game themed coffee shop that your co-workers had recommended “I thought about coming to see if it was even worth it, but I only want to play these kinds of games with you anyway.”

Sometimes he can forget about his feelings for you, when things are just as they always have been. You talk with and touch him the same, laugh at his jokes the same. He thinks that if he were to ever say out loud what he’s been feeling, that the two of you would still be the same but with a little More, ‘you guys’ but on steroids. So when everything is normal he can pretend like it‘a not. He can act like the More is there when you hold his hand to drag him around to the different machines, play games he wants to play even if you don’t want to, you even wipe ice cream off of his chin when his cone starts to melt because he’s talking too much to eat and he wonders why it took him so long to see it this way, and if you could too.

He keeps thinking the moment will come, when he’ll know spilling his guts to you is the right thing to do. But between you gushing over how much you love your new life and your willingness to point out every girl who has blinked at him this weekend, he completely loses the steam he’d gained during his flight, regardless of how his imagination runs wild with the More.

He curses himself the entire weekend for his lack of bravery, hoping that keeping his feelings in is the right decision. After his recent relationship crashed and burned because of his feelings for you he thought he had no choice but to come clean. But watching you, being with you in your new life makes him realize that his role in it hasn’t changed even if his feelings for you have.

The lump in his throat as he stands outside the departure doors is more than just sadness at the thought of leaving you, it’s the realization that he has to let the romantic idea of you go.

“How come you never cry when we have to leave each other,” you hiccup into his chest, and he coos your name lovingly.

“Don’t worry, you know I save my tears for the plane to make everyone in my row uncomfortable.” He knows that you hate that he’s making you laugh at a time like this, pulling away so you can swat his chest and he raises his hands in surrender.

“When will we be able to see each other again?”

“As soon as possible.” He nods reassuringly, wiping your tears with his thumb, heart pounding as he stares into your watering eyes “hey, you’re my best friend in the world, you annoy me every day, and I love you.”

“Whatever, I love you too.” you laugh, but his heart speeds up at the words that you’ve said to him thousands of times. You sweep your arms around him one last time before pushing him toward the airport doors “you better go, if you miss your flight I can’t guarantee I’ll let you leave at all.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He walks backwards slowly, staring at you with a ‘kicked puppy’ kind of face he mastered years ago and you wave enthusiastically, blowing loud kisses into the air that he catches and clutches to his heart.

“This is it,” he thinks, “this has to be it.”

———

Haechan is dreaming about you. He has been nightly ever since he got back from his birthday weekend. He’s grateful the dreams have variety, since some of them overwhelm him to the point of waking up and not being able to fall back asleep.

Sometimes, you’re young again and whenever anyone says “You know, it’s just a matter of time until one of you has a crush on the other.” you both theatrically gag, laughing at each other as if it were the most insane idea in the world. Or, you're sitting on his childhood couch watching your guys' favorite movie for the hundredth weekend in a row, vocalizing the parts of the two main characters and recreating all the best scenes.

Sometimes you’re at his apartment just hanging out together, which are dreams that feel so real he almost expects to see you in his kitchen when he wakes up. Most of these dreams spark a deja vu laced flame in his gut so deep he finds himself confusing them with memories. The ache of missing you wakes him up before his alarm some mornings, and he finds himself face timing you once he knows you're awake just to watch you make coffee and wash your face.

But sometimes, he has dreams that make him feel so ashamed he can barely text you back in the morning. Dreams where he reaches to touch you and you let him, where you tug at his hair and moan his name while he does all the things that he can only do to you in his sleep. He hates to say that these are his favorite, but it's the one dream he knows he'll never actually achieve and he goes to bed every night praying for them.

That’s the kind of dream he’s having when his phone buzzes him awake. He answers without looking because there are only a handful of people who can reach him when he’s on ‘do not disturb’, and you’re one of them. He hums a sleepy greeting into his phone, putting it on speaker next to his pillow and nearly drifting right back into the dream and between your thighs.

“Donghyuck” his eyes shoot open at the sound of your voice “did i wake you up?”

He can practically hear the pout in your voice, squinting at the time on his phone, “Yes, it’s three in the morning,” he stares down to where he’s half hard, running an embarrassed hand over his face even though there’s no possible way for you to know “are you okay?”

“No, well technically yes but I miss you which means things could be better.” you slur your words and Haechan smiles, somehow he's never annoyed that you call him pretty much every time you drink. He thinks it's because he's familiar with this version of you, though he definitely hasn't seen it often since college graduation. This version of you loves him hard, and is never afraid to say it.

"I miss you too," he takes a beat before adding "I was dreaming about you just now."

You gasp excitedly "Really! What were we doing." He smirks at the thought of telling you that you had been sitting on his face, hand reaching back for his cock while he guides your cunt over his tongue until you were shaking above him.

"Just, hanging out." he shrugs. It's his second time this week alone dreaming of your clit bumping his nose, and the thought makes his mouth water.

"I don't believe you." You say accusingly "that's way too boring for a mind like yours to dream up."

"What exactly is my mind like?" He yawns, throwing his forearm over his eyes.

"Oh, you know," you hum "your mind is a galaxy, with at least a billion planets and twice as many stars. I wish I could fly into your head and explore it, but NASA doesn't have the funds."

Haechan holds his breath at your compliment, the smile on his face so wide he can hear it in his own voice "That sounds like an episode of Magic School Bus."

"Your brain is definitely cooler than some cartoon, it's pretty much my favorite place on Earth."

"How would you know, you've never actually been inside?" He shakes his head, teasing you gently. Hearing words like these come out of your mouth breaks his heart and glues it back together at the same time.

"Are you saying you never think about me?" you ask him, not an ounce of sarcasm in your voice.

"I think about you all the time, I promise, all the planets in my brain are shaped like you." You hum, pleased with his response. He shuts his eyes and waits for your answer.

"Yeah, all the planets in mine are shaped like you, too." you pause for a second and add "plus all the stars, I win, I think about you more."

———

This time when Haechan comes to visit you, you know the nerves are more than just excitement at seeing your best friend. It’s a feeling that is nestled so deep in your stomach it makes you a little nauseous. You haven't seen him since you went home for the holidays and he only has one night in the city. You find yourself grueling over your reflection in the mirror, not used to being self conscious in front of him. You’re only going out for happy hour, but you put yourself together to last all night.

When Haechan finally arrives he whistles lowly, making you blush when he pulls out of your hug and requests a spin.

“I appreciate that you got so dressed up for me.” He teases, hoping you don’t catch his eyes sweeping over your legs, wanting to commit you in this dress to memory.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you roll your eyes as if you hadn’t spent the last two hours making sure you looked as perfect as possible. Hoping he doesn’t see the pile of clothes shoved into your closet from all the failed attempts.

“Never,” he grabs your purse off of the counter and opens the door, sweeping his arm out in front of him dramatically “after you. There are some strangers outside who are waiting to catch a glimpse of you, they just don’t know it yet.”

“You are so dramatic.” You lock the door behind you, using the moment facing away from him to collect yourself. Lately you catch yourself wondering if he'd always been so flirtatious, or if you're just forcing meaning behind his words because of how badly you want him to be.

“What, a guy can’t compliment his best friend?”

You smile widely at him and grab your bag out of his grasp, popping your key inside and walking toward the entrance of your building. Praying your fingers stop shaking when you finally get a drink in you. Haechan throws his arm around your shoulders while you walk down the street to your favorite cocktail bar and you're grateful for his usual chatter, talking to you about work and his slow climb up the ladder.

“They put me in a hotel this time, so you don’t have to worry about making me breakfast in the morning.” He smiles at you, sipping his drink gingerly.

“You know I never cook you breakfast.” He feels so far away across the table and you wish that you were sitting next to him instead, shoulders cold without the weight of his arm around them. It feels so good to have him touch you, to feel like you're his. There's a small part of you that feels guilty for using his knack for physical affection to your advantage, he has no idea what the heat of his skin on yours does.

“I know, but all the meetings are in the hotel anyway so it’s easier this time to just stay there.”

You try not to let yourself visibly deflate at the news, wanting to keep him for yourself the whole time he’s in town. His knee presses against yours under the table and you focus all your energy into acting the way you would have before, but you can’t focus on anything else and cross your legs to pull away from him as casually as possible. As badly as you want to touch him, sometimes you can’t.

“What time do you have to be up?”

He groans, leaning back enough that his knee now slides against your shin, “too early,” and glances down at his now empty glass, motioning to the bartender for another “which means you need to drink faster, so I can stop at a reasonable hour.”

You smile, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp, when his foot taps against yours you know it's going to be a long night.

The end of the night finds you together on your couch with a shared bottle of wine sitting empty on the coffee table, his early meetings temporarily forgotten. You and Haechan have been in this position plenty of times, drunk, slap happy and overly touchy in a way that you had always been comfortable being with one another. The difference now is you, this version of you who wants your best friend in an entirely different way.

Every time he pulls you closer you feel electricity shoot straight to your heart so intensely that you have to duck out of his grasp. You don’t know what to do with the feelings that have been growing gradually from your toes up, now practically sprouting out of your scalp with a neon sign blinking “I’m in love with you” over and over.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Haechan whines when you all but flinch away from his hand reaching for his phone near your arm. He’d been aware of it all night, the space you left between the two of you while you walked back from the bar, your sudden inability to maintain the eye contact that he craved. The complete lack of physical touch makes him feel dejected.

“Doing what?” You give him a panicked look, practically sober at the thought of being found out, of what it would feel like to be rejected by him.

“You’re not letting me touch you,” he frowns, and the alcohol buzzes through your veins again “not that you need to let me, but you only avoid it like this when you’re upset. Did I do something?” he pouts, tired eyes low when he flops his head onto his bicep resting on the back of the couch. You forget to breathe for a second when he looks up at you under dark lashes.

“I’m not upset. I wasn’t doing it on purpose.” you’re lying through your teeth, but scoot an inch closer to him to make your point. He doesn’t look convinced, and if you’d had less to drink you may have noticed the mischievous glint in his eye before he grabs you by your arm, knocking you off balance and into his chest.

“See,” he sighs happily, wrapping his arms around your body and you can feel his chest buzz when he hums, cheek pressed to the top of your head. You have no choice but to ungracefully shift your lower body closer to him, making yourself a sponge and soaking in his familiar touch “isn’t that better?”

You nod, “Yes, it is better.” and you really wish he didn’t know you so well, that even in his fifth hour of being drunk he can read your mind. He pulls your ear off his heart to grab your cheeks, smushing them together and whispering your name with a shake of his head.

“What is it?” he urges, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist to loosen his grip. You shut your eyes, take a deep breath and count to three in your head before you can talk yourself out of leaning forward and pressing your lips to his.

You feel him falter for a half second before he’s kissing you back, pulling your face closer and pushing his body toward yours. You can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears when his tongue touches yours, and then suddenly his mouth is gone. He moves so quick you have to put your arms out to stop yourself from face planting into the cushion he had just been sitting on.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” you gasp “i shouldn’t have done that, Haechan, I’m so sorry.”

It takes everything in you to look up to where he’s now standing with his arms crossed over his chest protectively. You have no idea what he’s thinking, staring down at you with wide eyes. Insecurity sweeps through you under his intense gaze, and you almost beg him to say something.

“I’m seeing someone,” the way the confession rings in your ears would have you believing that he screamed the words, but his voice was barely above a whisper “shit, I’m sorry.”

You aren’t sure if it’s your life that flashes before your eyes, or your years of friendship with him, at this point the two tend to blur together.

“That’s-” you sit back on your calves and inhale shakily, knowing it’s not even worth it to attempt to fake any sort of excitement for him “why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, swallowing thickly and pulling his eyes away from your face to stare at the ceiling “It’s new and I didn’t know how. It just never came up.”

“Well then, I’m sorry that it didn’t. I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came over me.” grateful that he’s finally the one avoiding eye contact with you so he doesn’t see your legs wobble when you stand “probably best to pretend that never happened. I’m just drunk and I missed you-”

Your name sounds so pathetic when he says it this time and you think it’s the eighth wonder of the natural world that you haven’t started crying yet. You shake your head instead, wishing so desperately that you had changed out of the dress you were wearing as you pull the slinky material down your thighs.

“Honestly, Haechan,” You regret your next words before they even hit the air “you should probably go. You have an early morning.”

The shock on his face pains you, but you can’t stand to see what you can only assume is pity growing in his eyes for another second.

“I don’t want to go, I want to talk about this.”

“I’m sorry.” you say again and his shoulders slump in defeat, recognizing that you’d made up your mind.

“It’s okay.” He means it, shuffling forward and the look on your face is nearly enough to bring him to his knees. His breath catches when you shift away the inch he moved toward you, eyes locked on his and he can see the desperation in them before he hears it in your voice.

“Text me when you get to the hotel?” your voice cracks with a heavy mix of exhaustion and embarrassment that makes him nods once, grabbing his things and walking slowly toward your door. He turns to look at you, but his words catch in his throat when he sees your eyes begin to water, mustering up all his energy to offer what he prays is a reassuring smile before letting himself out.

You sink back into the couch when the door clicks shut, head hanging in your hands as the tears finally start to flow. You cry so hard you feel like you could throw up, replaying his rejection over and over in your mind, shame and regret coursing through your veins. Pure embarrassment heats your body at the look on his face when he told you he was seeing someone, and you’re not sure if it was disgust or pity in his eyes.

On top of the rejection, knowing that he didn’t feel like he could share something as big as meeting someone with you was a dagger to the heart, up until recently you had never kept a secret from him, and even this one you clearly couldn’t keep in for long.

You force yourself into the shower, scrubbing angrily at your skin under the scalding water. You get out once your fingers have pruned and your skin feels raw, avoiding the mirror on your way to your bedroom. You kick angrily at the dress you'd left on the floor, watching it land near the pile of outfits you had discarded while getting ready.

Haechan had texted you nearly thirty minutes earlier

“made it back”

you give it a thumbs up before turning your phone off, setting an alarm with the clock on your side table and letting the emotional exhaustion lull you to sleep.

------

Haechan is realizing that there is no way in hell that you need space more than he needs to talk to you. He tries to call you multiple times the first week after you kissed him but you never answered, and Haechan doesn’t want to push you to the point of no return. What he really wants is to go back in time and not leave you that night, but the pain in your eyes was so pronounced he couldn't bare to make it any worse. The only physical proof that you had kissed him at all being the stupid blue thumbs up on the text he had sent you that night. It's followed by a slew of reassuring texts, saying that he broke up with his girlfriend and if you would please just talk to him, that he's not mad.

This is the feeling he carries with him nearly two weeks later on the flight to you, when he’s sure that another minute of silence from you will kill him. By the time he gets to your apartment it’s almost midnight, so he knocks loud enough to wake you up.

When you open the door in a shirt he thinks might be his, Haechan knows he has no choice. He's speaking before you can say anything, before he can change his mind.

"I came here to tell you that I think you're being really stupid." He curses internally for the obvious nerves in his voice, your tired eyes widen with shock at his words.

"Excuse me?"

"Years ago you made me swear that I would tell you if you ever came up with a reason not to be my friend anymore. So I'm telling you now, I think you're being really fucking stupid."

"I'm not doing that" You defend yourself, tearing up at the sight of him. He pushes into your apartment, shutting the door behind him and standing close enough to touch. He’s staring you down with pleading eyes, and you bury your face in your hands so you don’t have to look at him.

“Then why are you ignoring me? Why won’t you let me fix this?”

“I don’t know I just,” you inhale shakily “I don't know how to do it right now, not like this."

"Like what?" He hopes he already knows the answer, but needs to hear you say it, to know that you’re as serious as he is. Your mouth feels full of cotton when he forces you to look at him by whispering your name, pulling your hands from your face and his heart pinches tightly at the tears welling in your eyes "please tell me, please. Like what?"

"You already know," your bottom lip betrays you, voice weak beneath heavy emotion when you speak "I love you, Haechan. I'm in love with you, and I don't know what to do about it. I feel like I fucked everything up, but I can’t undo it."

He feels his lungs fill with relief. Haechan steps forward to close the small gap between your bodies, grabbing your jaw to rest his forehead against yours. You falter, but his hand on the small of your back keeps you from going anywhere, he's practically panting and you can barely stand, dizzy with the feeling of him. You want to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming when he whispers "You didn't fuck anything up."

He ghosts his lips over yours for a moment until he's sure you're not going to stop him. When he finally kisses you it's with years of pent up adoration, directing your arms around his neck and pressing his thumb firmly into your jaw, long fingers wrapping around the side of your throat. He practically whines when your fingers tighten in his hair and your lips part for his warm tongue. His arm wraps around your waist so tightly you have to hinge backward to keep your mouths connected, gasping at the strength you didn't know he had.

He keeps your stomach flush to his own and kisses you until you're practically limp in his arms, pulling away to breathe. His eyes are shut as he rubs his nose over yours

"I love you, too. I've been meaning to tell you for a while." All the blood rushes into your ears at his words and you can't stop your biggest worry from spilling into the air.

“What if you change your mind?”

“I made up my mind a long time ago, there's nothing you could do to change it." He blinks his eyes open, pulling his face away from yours just enough to see you, the trepidation in your eyes makes him say your name quietly.

"It's only me, you know me," he assures you in a hushed tone "you have to know by now that you are my entire world."

You could laugh, only him, as if he hasn’t been one of the most important people in your life since the day you met. As if he isn’t someone who has seen you at every stage of it so far. It’s Haechan, who has always been funny, who has witnessed the worst sides of you and never made you feel bad, who has never left your side.

You kiss him again, fingers wrapping in tight fists around his shirt to keep yourself grounded. Haechan’s heart pounds happily in his chest and he hopes you can feel it this time, both hands nestling into your hair. He kisses you gently in an effort to slow down your urgent movements, moaning at the taste of your mouth. You fall into his rhythm easily, the way his tongue rolls gently over yours makes your body go up in flames. You move your hands to slide beneath his shirt, landing on the strong muscles in his back and teasing your fingers up his sides.

When you finally come up for air he stares at you for a minute before laughing, stomach tightening beneath your fingers when he does.

"What's funny?" you shut your eyes, leaning your forehead into his chest, letting the pretty sound ring in your ears.

"Nothing, I'm just-" he cuts himself off with a shrug, nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head "I love you, and you love me back. That's all, that's how easy it is."

"It hasn't been easy at all, in fact my life has been very very hard since your birthday last year.” He pulls away from your head to ogle at you.

"My birthday last year?" You nod, feeling your cheeks flush under his intense gaze, it had really been that long "God, I'm sorry I'm such a fucking idiot."

He's kissing you again before you can ask him to elaborate, grabbing hold of both wrists in one hand while he walks you backward and guides you up onto the counter as slowly as he has to in order to keep his lips on yours. His hips are the perfect height for you to wrap your legs around, gasping in surprise when he slides his hands around your ass and presses your core tightly against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You feel shy when you pull away to ask if he wants to go to your bedroom, feeling frozen in place when he stares at you with half lidded eyes, his plump lips swollen and red.

"Tonight, I'm just kissing you." Every cell in his body is screaming in protest at his own words. He can't express how badly he wants to do everything else, to recreate his dreams, to learn the parts of your body he'd never seen before. But he can't imagine doing anything but this tonight, just this; his lips on yours, your breath in his lungs and your body melting into his.

"Why?” your eyebrows pull together in confusion. You practically shiver with need, tucking your arms between your stomachs and burying your nose in his throat. His laugh buzzes against your face, rubbing his hands gently over your shoulders and trying to control his own breathing as your lips brush over his skin.

All he can say is, “Because I’ve been needing to for a long time.”

“How long?” You pull away from his chest, leaning back onto your hands and closing your eyes when he runs his own down your sternum and over your waist, groping at the flesh of your hips and trying not to regret his romantic side.

“Way too long.”

“Your birthday?” you ask, tugging gently at his shirt. He plants his hands outside of your legs to lean in close, one corner of his mouth pulling up.

“Much longer.” Your eyes widen in shock, and he interrupts you before you can question him “can we talk about it later? I have something really important to do tonight.”

———

He tells you that he's had feelings for you since senior year of college, when you kissed Jeno. He tells you about his plan to admit everything when he had seen you on his birthday, but that he was too scared. He assures you he ended his relationship the moment he got back home the previous week “because everyone has felt like a matter of 'when' it will end, not 'if',” He tells you that just two weeks of your silence hurt worse than any previous heartbreak, and you agree. And before you fell asleep next to him he tells you again, ‘I'm so in love with you.’ and shimmies excitedly when you say it back before kissing you until you can barely keep your eyes open. He holds your cheeks in his hands and practically lulls you to sleep with his tongue, plush lips pressing to yours so gently you can hardly feel them dotting around the rest of your face. He thinks he could do this forever before sleep finally catches up with him, his arm slung over your side to hold your face to his chest.

You wake up curled into a familiar side, your first emotion being giddy as the night floods back to you. Despite your obvious willingness to go further, Haechan had meant it when he said he'd only be kissing you. It made you crazy at first, but when the two of you were staring at each other in the mirror with shy eyes while moving through a nighttime routine you had gotten familiar with years before, you were happy he had the self control you clearly lack. The idea of him actually seeing and touching you in ways he never had before, of doing all the things you'd found yourself imagining him doing over the last year; it was overwhelming. Kissing until your jaw was sore and your lips were swollen felt easy.

You’re startled by Haechan’s hand reaching for yours, holding your palm and bringing your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to each one, “good morning.” his voice is deep and tired, mouth landing on the crown of your head.

"Good morning." You press your nose into his chest happily, gripping his hand in yours and resisting the urge to squeal with delight.

"What are you so excited about, me?" He teases, hand falling on your thigh to guide your leg up the front of his, stopping just below his crotch and you hope he's going to give you what you'd been wanting all night, for the last year.

"You, I just can't believe how happy I am." You admit, lifting your head off of his chest to smile at him. He pulls you right back down, kissing your lips once before rolling you both over so he's on top of you. He presses a hand over your collarbone and drags his lips down your chin and over your throat.

"You know, this means you're all mine now." he smirks against your neck when you nod, gasping when he sucks gently at the base. He has one forearm on the mattress, the other hand too gentle on your ribs. You can feel that he's hard and you immediately roll your hips up.

"Does this mean you're gonna do more than just kiss me now?" you intend to sound confident, but it comes out as a whimper. His nose brushes over your jaw before he presses lingering kisses to your chin and cheek.

"Yes, baby, if you'll let me." You nod eagerly, shifting your face so your lips are beneath his and sighing happily when he lowers his weight onto your torso, licking into your mouth. You shiver with anticipation when he pushes at your shirt, long fingers tickling up your side before landing on your breast. You gasp into his mouth when his thumb brushes over your already hard nipple.

Your impatience is overwhelming, grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging it up to his shoulders. He pulls away reluctantly, reaching one hand toward his back and pulling his shirt over his head. You gnaw at your lip, running your hands over his stomach and hooking your knees around his hips as much as you can while stretching your arms over your head.

“Cute.” he murmurs, pulling your shirt up and tossing it to the side. He gropes at your chest, tongue wetting his lips before he leans down to wrap them around one of your nipples. He’s trying to act without thinking, to let the dreams he’s had pave the path down your body because he knows the second he acknowledges his nerves he won’t be able to shake them off. His heart thrums when you gasp above him, arching your chest into his mouth. He’s greedy for your sounds, his hands squeezing your breasts together and licking between them to get to the other nipple. When your hips buck up into his he groans, pulling away from your chest and staring down at you with wondering eyes.

“Can I?” He feels unnaturally shy, leaning back on his calves and watching his fingers press dimples into the flesh of your hips above your underwear, tugging at the hem.

“You don’t need to ask.” He smiles, forcing you to sit by grabbing the back of your neck for a kiss. His fingers press into your clothed core and your hips roll into his hand. He sighs into your mouth at your desperation, torn between teasing you and touching you everywhere.

You can’t keep your legs from shutting around his arm when he pushes your panties to the side and slides his middle and ring finger up your wet center, circling over your clit.

You pull away from the kiss, blinking up at him and your mouth falls open when he presses firmly on your clit, rubbing in slow circles. His head hangs as he lets out a quiet “fuck” at your reaction, moving his hand off your neck to stroke over your stomach and without it behind your head you have to lie back, he presses your legs open. Haechan stares at your chest while he settles between your knees, pushing two fingers inside your dripping core. His jaw hangs open, watching his knuckles disappear inside of you.

“So soft,” he breathes, staring down to where his fingers glisten when he pulls them out to rub over your clit again, palming over his cock getting harder in his sweats “want to be everywhere at once.”

“Want you everywhere.” you whine when his fingers pull away to hook into your underwear, tugging them down your legs. Haechan stands to strip and you hold your breath and soak in the soft swell of his hip that leads to where his cock hangs heavy between his legs. It’s pretty like the rest of him, and thicker than you'd expected with a leaking tip that matches the color of his tongue, he strokes himself once and you don’t get the chance to reach for him before he lays back on the bed, rolling you to sit on top of him. You shudder when your pulsing clit rubs over his stomach, inner thigh squeezing into his ribs. He runs his hands up your waist, scooting you an inch higher and grabbing onto your tits.

“Do you remember a few months ago, when you called me drunk and I told you I was dreaming about hanging out with you?” He shivers when you grind down in response, wet pussy sliding easily over his skin “I lied.”

Your hands press into his chest, tilting your head “what were we doing?” you can barely speak above a whisper when he pinches gently at your nipple with one hand, the other rubbing over your ribs when he smirks up at you.

“You were about a foot higher than you are right now,” you gasp and reach out to grab the headboard when he jolts his hips to move you up his chest, staring down at him with wide eyes as he shifts to wrap his arms under your legs, fingers pressing into your thighs.

“You dreamt about this?” you let him bring your hips to hover over his face, hands falling into his hair when he brushes his nose over your clit as he nods.

“All the time,” he moans and drags you down onto his face, lips wrapping around your clit. You shudder above him, letting some of your weight collapse into your heels and he groans happily at the pressure of you on his chin, pressing you harder onto his mouth to fuck his tongue into you. He wants to devour you, every sound you make goes straight to his cock which is already rock hard at the taste and smell of you. Even just thinking about the fact that it's your hips grinding over his face right now is enough to make him moan into your pussy.

You slur out praise, one of your hands shooting up to grip the headboard. His hands wander gently up your sides, eyes opening to stare up to where he plays with your tits, hard cock pulsing at the sight of your head thrown back, hips moving in gentle circles over his face. Haechan’s hand tugs yours down to his hair, trying to restrain himself from thrusting into the empty air at the feeling of you all over him. He hums happily into your pussy when you start to grind over his mouth, flattening his tongue for you to ride until your legs are shaking.

He lets out a deep “mmhmm” when you warn him that you’re going to cum, suckling hard on your clit until you’re practically begging him to let you go, body crumpling forward with both hands tangled in his hair. He's grateful you didn't touch his cock, just the thought of your fingers wrapped around him is enough to make him cum and he has other plans.

You can’t speak when you collapse onto the mattress beside him, immediately warmed by the weight of his body on top of yours as he slots himself between your thighs, sucking a hickey onto the front of your throat.

“Taste too fucking good,” he hums, mouthing over your chin and cheek “been dreaming of eating your sweet pussy for so long.” you practically swoon when he kisses you, pre-cum wetting the inside of your thigh when he relaxes his stomach onto yours.

“Hyuck, want you in me, please” Your vision is blurry, whining into his swollen lips. He works them over your cheek before pulling away from you, bringing one of your legs up to his shoulder and you rest the other knee on his hip. He can feel himself pant when he taps the head of his cock on your swollen clit, practically drooling when he sticks barely the tip inside before pulling back and repeating the tantalizing motion.

“Been waiting for too long to be teased,” you pout, trying to encourage his hips toward yours with the ankle he’s not pressing his cheek into. He smirks and circles his leaking tip over you again, watching his cock spread your arousal around before he pushes into you a little further.

“I’m taking my time with you, feels so fucking good.” He can’t look away from between your thighs, messy hair hanging over his forehead while his fingers grip your ankle tightly. You whimper when he pulls all the way out again, one more hard tap against your pulsing clit before he pushes himself halfway into your leaking pussy. You rise onto your elbows, trying to reach one hand to grab for his hip but he releases the base of his cock to stop you by lacing your fingers together. When Haechan finally looks into your eyes he bottoms out, stretching your leg toward your chest so he can lean in. His hips stutter, a choked groan rumbling deep in his chest.

“Oh my god, Hyuck please.” you beg him to move with a gasp. His forehead presses to your chin, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Fuck, baby, been needing you," he thrusts into you slowly, lifting his head to look down at you glowing beneath him with your eyes shut. He pulls out all the way before thrusting back inside, quickening his hips when your eyes flutter open, the look on your face enough to make his balls tighten slightly, shutting his eyes to regain self control "knew you'd feel so fucking good."

"M’so full, Haechan." you moan at his words and the rapid slap of his hips on the back of your thighs, forcing your eyes to stay open so you can see his face. The way his nose scrunches with focus when he pulls away from your chest, both his hands wrapping firmly around your hips while he watches his cock sink into you. Brown, shaggy hair sticks to his damp forehead, full lower lip taken between his teeth. He’s pure, unadulterated boyish beauty, and he’s all yours.

You squeak when he lets your leg drop off his shoulder, pressing your thigh as far open as it will go with your heel digging into his backside. He fans his fingers over your lower stomach, thumb reaching down to push your clit side to side and your hips tuck up for more pressure, Haechan moans loudly when the movement causes you to clamp around his cock, "Perfect fucking pussy, can't believe it's mine now. Like my fingers on your pretty clit?”

You nod enthusiastically, letting go of your breasts to hold the backs of your thighs, Haechan's eyes move up your body to stare at your chest move beneath him, nipples looking sweet as candy. He’s dying to sink his fingers into the softest part of your stomach, the way you’re moving for him makes his mind turn to sand. You stare down to where his thumb is making circles over your clit, perfectly timed with the head of his cock bruising your g-spot. You feel a second orgasm build and the corner of his mouth pulls up proudly when your legs shake. Your head hangs back as you gasp for air, "yes, please, Haechan feels so fucking good."

"Make the prettiest noises for me, want you cumming all over my cock." he leans forward just enough to trap your throat beneath the weight of his palms, other hand still moving over your swollen clit. You smile at the pressure of his body on yours, eyes fluttering shut while you moan. You nod desperately when he asks if you can do that, "if you can let me make you feel that good, please, my pretty girl."

He takes his hand off your throat when you cum, wanting to hear every sound you could possibly make. You repeat his name like a blessing that has him cumming with you, moaning and breathless as his hips start to slow, milking you both through your orgasms.

You wrap your arms around him when he pulls out of you, reveling in the feeling of him when he lowers himself down, burrowing his face into your neck and warming your skin with his breath. You hold him there for a minute until he pulls his head up, dopey smile lighting up his eyes and making you laugh.

“What?” you scrunch your nose at him “better than your dreams?”

He nods, “so much better, best I ever had, my body belongs to you now.” he smirks at his own words, but his tone is so gentle he can’t even call it a joke.

“Just your body?” you tease, and he leans his nose onto your lips for a kiss that you carry onto the mole under his eye.

“Body, mind, heart, soul,” he sighs happily when you cup his cheeks in your hands, kissing him gently “all the planets in my head.”

"All the planets in my head too."

————

masterlist

authors note // this ended up being much longer than i anticipated, maybe the longest one shot i’ve ever actually written! i appreciate everyone who voted for happy ending because when i was originally thinking of a sad ending it was too hard lol. this feels forever unfinished because there is so much good to this version of haechan, i adore him.

#haechan #haechan fanfiction #haechan smut #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct dream fanfiction #nct dream smut #nct 127 fanfiction #nct 127 smut #nct fanfiction #nct smut

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girl-named-matty · 3 months ago

Note

Could you please write some headcanons of Sebastian, Ominis, Garreth, and Amit with a gn!reader who is obsessed with all the clothes they find while exploring. Their outfit changes every other day and are constantly showing them scarves,robes,outfits,etc. that they love. This is all in response to me while playing HL and seeing the outfit you get from finding all the house tokens. Thank you 😁

Fashion icon!! ✨

The boys and how they react to your wacky and questionable (yet somehow very stylish) clothing choices! Pairings: Could be considered an x reader since I use the term "you" but read it however you want!!🥰

This is such a cute idea and I had such a fun time writing it! Thank you for requesting!

Sebastian:

Okay, so he thinks it’s a little odd at first.

Because you went from wearing your school uniform every day to all these wacky and “bold” fashion statements as if it were nothing.

It started off with things like that and then it went to glasses. And now it’s full-blown mismatched yet stylish outfits.

“Where in Merlin’s name are you finding all of these things?” Sebastian would ask. He was completely puzzled.

And of course, you were happy to answer!

“I got this in Irondale—Oh and this one is from a random chest in the middle of the forbidden forest!” You’d explain happily.

“Oh, and this one I got from your neighbor's house in Feldcroft.”

“What??”

“Forget I said anything about that.”

But soon, he looks forward to seeing what wacky combination of clothing you decide to wear. It makes showing up to his first class a lot more interesting and a lot more fun.

Ominis:

Obviously, since he can’t see, he doesn’t know about all your outrageous fashion choices.

But, regardless of the fact that he can’t see. Ominis is a man of fashion. He likes to keep clean, he likes his clothes to match, and the colors to coordinate.

So when he hears from Sebastian that you keep showing up to class wearing some “interesting” items together, he’s a bit curious.

He usually likes to “see” through touch, so he runs his hands down the materials of your clothing.

“W-What is this? What even is this? Where did you get it?”

You shrugged. “Just found it while running around.”

“Do these colors even match? I have a feeling they don’t match.” He said, his brows furrowing. “Does it look atrocious? Please say it doesn’t.”

His hands make their way up towards his face and he accidentally pricks his fingers on the spiky “lizard-like” glasses you decided to wear. “What is this– OW! What are you even wearing??”

This obviously sends you into an absolute fit of giggles before you apologize for not telling him about that before.

Even though he highly questions your taste in fashion, he really is just glad you enjoy what you’re doing.

Garreth:

Garreth is a goofy guy, we all know this.

It pretty much comes with the Weasley name.

So when he sees you walking in with the most wacky, mismatched, laugh-inducing outfit, he busts out laughing. Obnoxiously loud.

He takes great joy in seeing what you’re wearing every day. He knows you’re obsessed with all of the items you find and therefore, he’s obsessed with them too.

You’ll tell him every item that's your favorite or tell him about a new one you found in some random place.

(Although he didn’t want to hear about the one you found in the Forbidden Forest near the spider caves. That he could miss out on)

And before he knows it, suddenly he’s sitting in class, wearing your wacky lizard glasses that you had just put on him, stifling a laugh.

Professor Ronen gets a laugh out of it. He loves seeing his students have fun and get along so well.

Professor Sharp, however, just looks down and shakes his head. But in all honesty, he thinks it's rather silly.

But Garreth is 100% invested in this and 100% unashamed.

Amit:

Well, needless to say, he is very confused.

Where do you keep getting these things?? Why the interesting pairings?? Do you do it on purpose or did your parents never teach you how to dress? He really doesn’t know and he’s just trying to come up with a logical explanation to it like he always does.

He finally works up the courage to ask and you just say that you really like dressing up like this. And you say it with a big smile on your face.

And that’s when he finally understands that you just really enjoy doing stuff like this!

And suddenly, it all just makes sense. And obviously, if it makes you happy, he wants you to know he’s interested in it.

He’ll ask you random but oddly specific questions about what you’re wearing, or where you got them, and he’ll sit and listen to every story you tell about how you found each item.

(Bro is in LOVE love but that’s a topic for later)

It’s quite the stark contrast to see him all neat with his clean school uniform then you sitting next to him in a tattered, old pointy hat, wacky glasses, and an outfit adorned with a clashing scarf.

But hey, it makes you happy. Therefore it makes him happy.

#hogwarts legacy #hl #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #Amit thakkar #mc #hogwarts legacy screenshots #Sebastian sallow x reader #Ominis gaunt x reader #Garreth weasley x reader #amit thakkar x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy headcanons #ominis' had me cackling ngl #bro is blind but has better fashion sense than all of us

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sant-riley · 1 year ago

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AAAAAAA IDEAAAAAAAAAH

Hi! I'm new here! I've come to bombard you with the idea of a parent of the reader's(most likely dad) showing up to the base out of nowhere.

Secret admirer,

-🐍

Omg I have my first ever emoji anon, Hi!! And yes absolutely I love this. I'm gonna try and be neutral with the parent in question so it's open to anyone :)

P.S idk how I used to format this shit I'm not checking Lmfao

[Task force 141 reacting to your parent/s showing up out of nowhere to visit]

If we're taking into account that this Simon and the og Simon have the same backstory,, its safe to say he doesn't have fond memories of his dad, though he has some for his mother.

Depending on your relationship between you and your parent/s, Ghost is either gonna point blank tell them they're not welcomed here. While Price IS above him, he isn't afraid to pull the intimidation and rank card to get them to get the hell out of there. Ghost was abused by his dad, God fucking forbid you were EVER treated poorly and he finds out.

However, even if your parent is kind, he still is uncomfortable by them being there. It makes his chest feel heavy watching you interact and it just brings up bitter memories he much rather not think of, so he won't linger around and instead go to the gun range and wait it out. He cares for you, and unfortunately, it won't ever really transfer over to your parents. Best he'd do is a stern nod and be on his way.

Soap, however, is very happy to introduce themselves and your parent swoons over his accent and likes him immediately, even if they're not the greatest of parents, Soap will make it a point to put his best foot forward and ask them if they'd want a tour.

If your mom is present she immediately likes him and isn't afraid to give you a look with an eyebrow raise saying "why aren't you dating him?". Don't get me wrong, though. He's not afraid to make smart comments and then joke it off. He's protective but not in your face kinda way.

He's definitely the type to sigh with relief when they're gone, complaining about small things he disliked about them to you openly (a lil bit of a hater but his mom raised him to not be rude to his elders okay.)

Doesn't matter who your parents are, Price intimidates them. He's the captain, and from what you've told them, he is extremely good at his job and he's a no nonsense leader, but you also mention that he's kind and he'd never leave one of his own behind.

Price talks EXTREMELY highly of you, he isn't afraid to clasp a hand on your shoulder and smile that stupid smile of his while he looks down at you in admiration.

It'd be most likely that he himself would have invited your parents without your know how, he has the ties and the authority but trust and believe if you expressed any discomfort with it, he'd rectify it and send them on their way.

Your parents may not like how particularly you close you are with such an older man but it's obvious he cares so much for you and your safety, so they take peace in that.

Gaz is probably the most easy going out of the 4, casually making conversation and if your parents are the type to play match maker, he's their #1 choice I'm not sorry, it's the truth.

Gaz sings your praises, mentioning time and time again that you've been such a good help on base and a good comrade and friend and he will thank your parents for raising you. (Imagine him taking off his hat and holding it to his chest or tipping it what if I swooned)

You KNOW he's invited to family dinners if he's ever in the area, or if he has no plans for the holidays, he's welcome at the family home. (You tell him later that he doesn't need to feel pressured but he just ruffles your hair and asks what kind of alcohol your family prefers)

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juicyflawless25 · 2 years ago

Text

Capillaries Are Bursting (Ch.1)

Summary; Larissa is in a terrible marriage, one that she was forced into to make her reputation and her family's reputation look better. She never wanted to be married to a man, but was given no choice. Instead of living the life she wanted to live, she serves under a husband that clearly doesn’t even love her, much less cares anything about how she feels. Larissa finds herself in a predicament when she begins to have feelings for the nanny of her child. What happens when the nanny shares the same feelings and finds themselves in a situation that could put them both in danger?

Notes; This is going to be a no magic, no shapeshifting kind of fic for Larissa. The song Labour by Paris Paloma (which I highly recommend) is what has inspired this fic. It's going to be angsty, and it's going to make you angry, but I also hope it makes you hope for true love. There will be warnings of abuse, patriarchal ideologies and just general bullshittery. I don't know how long it's going to be, but I do have some plans. As always, I'm open to criticism and words of encouragement. Please let me know if you'd like more of this. Link to a03 is in the title.

Deirdre Face Reference ; Maria Doyle Kennedy (cause she's wow)

A marriage of convenience. A merging of houses. A woman put in her place at the hands of her father. Love was not a part of Larissa Wems’ marriage. No, she had been pawned off at the age of eighteen, her father giving her to a man ten years older than her. Why? Well, Larissa’s family and her soon-to-be husband’s family would benefit greatly from the two coming together. Money was involved, as it always was in the inner circles of the rich. Larissa could never understand how one’s parents could place their child in an arranged marriage, choosing their love of money over their daughter’s happiness. But alas, that was exactly what was happening.

The day the news had been given to her after years of being told this was how it would be, Larissa had felt her world shatter. She had always daydreamed of having someone she loved dearly, being close with them, and knowing their ins and out’s before marriage was even discussed. And a secret she had kept to herself was the fact that she wished for her love to be a woman. Men were of no interest to Larissa, they never truly had been. While growing up, she had envisioned having a woman by her side, holding hands and taking care of each other as a true couple would. It seemed, however, that no such fate was in the cards for her.

What could she possibly know about being a wife, especially at the age of eighteen? How was she supposed to take care of a man when she wasn’t even completely sure how to take care of herself? Larissa was still figuring out who she was, and who she wanted to be. There were so many questions she had unanswered, so many thoughts swirling in her head about what she wanted her life to be. She knew without a doubt that she cared not for being a wife to someone she didn’t know, much less a wife to a man.

Her parents had no clue of this, however. She had never felt safe enough in their presence to express anything she felt deep down inside. Her entire life they ridiculed her for everything they could think of. There was never a time when they approved of anything Larissa deeply enjoyed. They taught her to be prim and proper, to be a true lady. True ladies didn’t show too much emotion but always had a smile on their faces. True ladies listened to the men in their lives and obeyed when they commanded. True ladies kept their backs straight and their faces forward, giving an air of confidence, but not too much. Nothing could be too much, nothing could overshadow any man in their lives. Larissa spent her whole life being told that men were superior and women should know their place. It was torture.

The day Larissa was given the news of her being betrothed to a man was the very same day she had met him. He was nice enough, even if a little overbearing. He smiled at her, bowed, kissed her hand, and behaved like the perfect gentleman. He had lingering gazes, clearly finding Larissa’s looks acceptable. They matched heights, which he didn’t seem to be a fan of, but he had only brought it up once. After that, her mother made sure to keep Larissa out of heels each time she sent her out on a date with the man.

“It’s to please him, dear. You must remember this.” Her mother had told her, trying to convey that it was best to keep him happy. Larissa had put up a fight for a while with her mother, but her father intervened eventually and it cut the argument short.

“You will do as we say. That is the long and short of it.” He had commanded, glaring at Larissa like he wished he’d had an entirely different daughter.

Her protests died on her lips and she remained quiet, obeying as she’d always been taught to do. She hated every moment of it, wishing beyond hope that there was a way out. But there seemed to be no light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, she faced only darkness, already threatening to consume her before the marriage was even final. Truly she wished to be sucked into a hole and do disappear entirely. But alas, a woman such as herself was a hard one to hide.

There were several dates with her fiance before the wedding was even planned. It seemed he wanted to show her off like she was some showhorse, prancing her around as if he had her on a lead. And really, it did seem as if there was an invisible lead of some sort, pulling Larissa along despite her feelings about the situation. Not that she had voiced them to her fiance (that word felt so odd on her tongue about a man). She mainly stayed quiet around him, letting him take the lead in conversations just as she had been coached. It took every ounce of strength Larissa had to keep her mouth shut though, the man seemed to be denser than the Amazon Rainforest.

He was kind to her though. As kind as a man with rich arrogance could be, anyway. He didn’t beat Larissa, didn’t try to force anything on her (for which she was grateful). But Larissa knew that this wouldn’t last very long. Something in the pit of her stomach told her that misery and woe were soon to come.

It was only six months that had passed before Larissa was forced into marrying the man. Six very short months where her entire being was panicked and anxious. Those feelings only grew on the wedding night, knowing what was expected of her. Knowing there was no way out of this, especially after the I Do’s were said. Larissa was terrified, frightened, and distressed beyond belief. She was equipped for many things, but this was not one of them.

On her wedding night, after her husband (that phrase would never feel right to her) had taken what he wanted from her, Larissa cried herself to sleep in silence, wishing for a different life. She’d let herself have that one moment before she placed herself in a steely resolve the morning after, blocking herself off emotionally to survive. It was only the beginning and she knew there would be years she had to endure. Years of being whatever a man wanted her to be.

Before Larissa even knew it, twenty years had passed. Twenty years of what felt like being locked in a stuffy cage, repeating the same day over and over again. Twenty years of being married to a man who did not love her nor care for her or even gave her second glances when in the same room. There had been countless times when she had found evidence of him cheating on her. Lipstick stains on collars, strange voicemails left on phones, notes left in pockets, and strange cars in their long and winding driveway.

Not that Larissa cared. At least he wasn’t trying to have sex with her anymore. At least he didn’t touch her and make her skin feel slimy and rotten where fingertips had touched. The most torturing part of it all was the fact that he wouldn’t let her go. He could do as he pleased, could run around, and make indecent choices. But Larissa? Larissa had to continue to be the proper wife and continue to pretend she was satisfied with her situation and the lavish things that she had.

So many arguments had been started, so many slaps to the face because Larissa expressed her unhappiness.

“Just let me go, Roger. Please. Neither one of us is invested in this marriage, we never have been. There’s no need for me to be here.” She had pleaded, trying to make him see reason. But it had only made him see red and grab her by the arms, shaking her violently as he screamed at her. That was how it always ended, leaving Larissa to continually feel trapped and broken.

Her only solace was her child, the only thing keeping her above ground. Her daughter was the only thing that kept her head above water as she teetered under the surface of depression. Each time an argument ensued, she would find her daughter afterward and try to focus on her, not the swirling thoughts of morbidity.

After a particularly harrowing fight, Larissa found herself weaving her way through the long corridors of her home, seeking her daughter at a frantic pace. Her mind felt as if it was unraveling, sending her into a spiraling swirl of panic. If she could just find her daughter and wrap her arms around her, it would ground her. It would put her mind at ease, if even for a moment.

Reaching her daughter’s playroom, Larissa burst through the door a lot harder than intended. She watched as he daughter jumped and leaped towards the nanny sitting near her on the floor. The nanny jumped as well, scooping little Olivia into her arms to protect the little girl. However, as soon as they both realized who had come through the door, Olivia pushed away from the nanny and ran straight for Larissa.

“Mommy! You scared me!” The little girl announced vehemently, eyes wide as she looked up at Larissa with blue eyes matching the mother’s own.

Olivia hugged Larissa’s legs as she bent down to kiss the top of her daughter’s head. “I’m so sorry, darling. Mommy didn’t mean to scare you.” She cooed, hands wrapping around the little girl in hopes of it soothing her.

Larissa’s eyes darted towards the nanny, throwing her an apologetic look as well. “My apologies, Deirdre!” She said with a small, apologetic smile as she unwrapped her arms from around Olivia.

“Think nothing of it, Mrs. Weems!” Deirdre answered with a wave of her hand, giving her most reassuring smile back to Larissa. “And please, you can call me DD. I’ve been here long enough.” Deirdre chuckled, getting up from her place on the floor.

As she stood, her eyes washed over Larissa, noticing the distress in her eyes and the way her body tensed up. This seemed to be the state Larissa was in all the time, especially if her husband was around. It made her wonder what conversation she had just had with the man. Truthfully, she loathed Roger Weems. He was the most arrogant, stuck-up piece of shit Deirdre had ever come across. Why Larissa was with him was beyond her.

Deirdre had been Olivia’s nanny since she had been born, there to help Larissa whenever she needed it. So she had had quite a bit of time to ponder on the relationship between Roger and Larissa. There were so many unanswered questions that she had, but the one she knew the answer to had been obvious since day one. Larissa did not love Roger and Roger only cared for himself and the plethora of pussy he paraded in and out of his too-lavish home.

Larissa had her sharp edges, that much was clear. But DD had come to the conclusion that those sharp edges had been made by her life with Roger. She knew there was so much more to Larissa than meets the eye, and that much she had assessed from the way she interacted with Olivia. The lady of the house hadn’t shared too much with Deirdre, even in the amount of time she had been there, but she knew very well that Larissa was a good woman just stuck in a bad marriage.

It made her heart ache for the woman and the child. No one should have to grow up in a home where the parents didn’t love each other, where they only tolerated each other at best. Deirdre had spent most of her life in a similar situation and so as the nanny, she tried her best to make things as right as possible for the child.

Larissa could feel DD’s eyes on them, but especially her. She had often wondered if her gaze was something more than just curious. It was obvious that Deirdre was a good woman, the way she interacted with Olivia told Larissa everything she needed to know. But the way the woman liked to include her in things, the way she seemed to reach out emotionally to offer comfort was something Larissa could not ignore.

After feeling such comfort and kindness from someone, it put Roger in such a stark contrast. It put him in the darkest of lights and made Larissa’s hatred for him run even deeper. Deirdre reminded her that she deserved so much better. This was the very reason Larissa had grown to really care for her. Of course, she had not acted on such feelings. She hid them the best she could, not wanting to put the nanny in an unpredictable situation. Her eyes, however, didn’t always seem to get the memo.

Larissa stared up at DD through her mascara-laden eyelashes, wishing she could hug her as tightly as she hugged her daughter. Wishing they could touch at all without it being improper. With a deep breath, she stood up straighter and gently played with her daughter's hair.

“I promise to try harder in remembering that,” Larissa assured, trying her best to reel in the large smile spreading across her lips.

Larissa and Deirdre stared at each other for a moment, blue eyes meeting blue as an understanding seemed to flow between the two of them. It seemed they were silent for a moment too long though because Olivia was quite distraught over it as she tugged on the bottom of Larissa’s skirt.

“Mommy! Mommy!” The little girl was adamant in her want for attention, eyes darting between the two women.

Both women broke themselves of their gaze, realizing they’d lost themselves for a moment. Larissa’s eyes lingered for just a moment longer, longing and something akin to love lingering behind those ocean eyes, before they pulled away and down towards her daughter.

“What is it, little one?” Larissa asked as she bent down in the most proper of ways, keeping her legs together as she tried her best to make herself a little more easily accessible to Olivia.

“DD is so pretty, don’t you think Mommy?” The little girl questioned, grinning between the two of them as her eyes flicked back and forth between her mother and her nanny.

Larissa blinked, taken aback by her daughter’s question. Her eyes flickered to DD for just a moment, eyes scanning her face quickly in order to see the other woman’s facial expression on the matter.

Deirdre looked about as surprised as Larissa before a blush crept up her cheeks, a small chuckle escaping her momentarily. “That’s an awful way to put your mother on the spot there, Livi.” The nanny teased, shaking her head in disbelief.

“But it’s true!” The child protested, slapping her hands on Larissa’s knees. “Tell her she’s pretty, Mommy! Come on!” Olivia squealed as she jumped up and down in excitement.

Larissa couldn’t help but laugh at her daughter’s antics, though there was a bit of a panic in her chest as she watched her daughter and avoided Deirdre’s lingering gaze for the moment. She could feel heat spreading across her cheeks and up to her ears, washing her skin in a flame she’d never felt before she’d met Deirdre.

“Yes, my darling little girl. DD is quite pretty.” She agreed, eyes peering up at Deirdre at the use of the nickname she had insisted Larissa use.

The tension between the two adults in the room mounted for a moment, swirling around them like a sexualized whirlwind. They shivered in tandem as their eyes finally met, Larissa swallowing hard as Deirdre licked her lips. Just as Larissa was about to open her mouth to say something more, Roger came barrelling into the room like a bull.

Everyone jumped and Larissa stood up straight, all evidence of any kind of emotion leaving her face. The only thing that could be seen, by anyone actually paying attention, was the flame of hatred dancing behind Larissa’s eyes.

Roger didn’t even seem to notice the tension in the room as he placed his deadly glower towards his wife. “We must be leaving now, or we will be late for this dinner. I suggest you hurry yourself up, otherwise, there will be consequences.” He threatened, not even making a show of caring who thought what of his outburst.

Larissa gave a curt nod before bending down to kiss Olivia on the head. “I will be back in a few hours, my darling. Have fun with Deirdre, yes?” She smiled brightly at her daughter, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Deirdre noticed, as she always did.

“Come on, little wild one. We’ll find you some dinner and then see if we can learn a few things before bedtime, hmm?” Deirdre reached out for Olivia’s hand, which the child gladly took as soon as she let go of Larissa.

Watching with unshed tears in her eyes, trying her best to fight them off, Larissa nodded her head at Deirdre in thanks, her lips mouthing the word so softly. Deirdre smiled back just as softly, wanting nothing more than to comfort the clearly distraught woman. But instead, she turned and left the room with Olivia, hoping to shield the child just a moment longer from her mother’s pain.

#larissa weems #larissa weems x original female character #angst #no magic #no shapeshifting

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geeks-universe · 2 years ago

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Kiss of Death pt. 5

Anthony Bridgerton x Assassin!Reader

Society has certain expectations of you. If only they knew of your nighttime activities…

“Good morning, Viscount,” you greeted warmly from behind a large plate of food.

The night before you’d snuck away to meet Graham, letting him give you a quick once over to make sure there were no lasting injuries. All things considered, you felt pretty good. You’d managed to get a decent amount of sleep, and now the only thing keeping you from tackling the day was the overwhelming hunger battling your stomach.

“Princess,” he answered, evenly- cautiously.

His eyes were scanning your body, and it only took you a second to realize why. He was searching for visible evidence of some forbidden escapade he had no doubt conjured.

Your absence had been noted, you knew, but you had informed Daphne you were just retiring early. Anthony hadn’t believed it.

You cleared your throat, turning your attention to the woman on your left who had just sat down a plate of warm pastries.

“Sorry for my abrupt departure last night,” you explained, your voice soft. “Liana escorted me back to your home.”

Liana, the maid in question, froze momentarily.

Her dark eyes assessed the scene, and you desperately hoped she’d connect the pieces. Liana was a highly trained assassin who had spent a lifetime learning how to read body language, the same way you had.

She was nearing her mid-twenties, and already had an impressive list of feats she’d accomplished in the Order. The Bridgertons didn’t know that, though. She played the role of your companion, a maid that had been with your family since she was a child. Technically, it wasn’t a lie outside of what her true occupation was.

But, your father was adamant she accompany you, and considering you had no maids of your own, the role was the most natural choice. Not that Liana was particularly happy about it.

“Too much dancing, I’m afraid,” Liana nodded sympathetically, and if you didn’t know her as well as you did, you might’ve actually believed her.

The dry look on your face did nothing to sell the story, but Anthony was satisfied with the answer, relieved you hadn’t left with another man.

“Did you enjoy any of the suitors?” Daphne asked politely, but the nearly imperceptible upturn of her lips spoke of something you didn’t quite understand.

“They were…” You couldn’t fight back the grimace. “Nice.”

Daphne laughed in return.

“In time I’m sure you’ll find the perfect match, as my Daphne has,” Violet said sweetly, and then began trying to extract details of how her relationship with the Duke was progressing.

You couldn’t help but gaze in wonder at the young woman as she practically glowed talking about the Duke. You hadn’t met Simon yet, hadn’t really had the chance, but the way she spoke of him made you appreciate him a little more. Daphne was absolutely besotted by him, and it caused a twinge of longing in your heart.

Like the Bridgertons, you were raised in a house filled with love. Granted, your parents were both assassins, as well as royalty, but the love they had for each other- and, by extension, you- was real. For a brief moment, you wondered what it might feel like to be in love with someone, to trust them with the whole of who you were, to feel safe. You wanted to shed the armor you wore around your heart, if only for a minute, to remember what it felt like.

Then, you could see your mother’s eyes as the light faded from them. You could feel your father’s agony as he held onto you, screaming at the world that had left you without a mother, the same pain burning your heart in the confines of your chest.

The deep scar just above your bellybutton flared to life, and you felt the wonder turn to ash in your mouth.

You couldn’t let yourself go through it all again.

You couldn’t love.

“I shall meet you at the park for the promenade at noon, I’m afraid I have business until then.”

You didn’t miss the confusion that flashed in Liana’s expression.

You did not, in fact, have business.

Graham had very explicitly banned you from your duties for the next week. As much as you wanted to argue, you knew better. Him and Liana were the only ones that knew you were there against your father’s wishes. He truly did think you’d gone to search for a husband.

If he’d known the truth he never would’ve let you step foot in London.

So you played the part for your father as well. Your steps were a bit heavier than normal as you walked away from the Bridgerton family, feeling the presence of Liana close behind.

“(Y/N),” she hissed against the sudden burst of wind as you opened the door.

London was as bustling as usual, and for once, you found yourself among them, rather than watching from the rooftops like some kind of hidden savior.

We work in the dark to serve the light, indeed.

“No work,” you assured her, letting yourself get lost in the crowd.

Liana, however, stayed closed by your side. She kept her gaze on you, and, when you passed a hidden alley tucked in the dark corner of a considerably quiet street, she pulled you to the side.

“What is it?”

She had been your closest confidant since you were a kid. Despite her being a number of years older than you, you’d always been the best of friends. When you were young, you trained together every single day, learning the art of your craft side by side. Now, most days you didn’t get the opportunity.

“Memories,” you offered, pushing back against the panic that quickened your heart.

You forced yourself to focus on the ground, a steady reminder that you were here, no matter how much your mind tried to drag you to the past.

“Your mother-“

Her voice was so cautious, like it’d caused her pain to utter the two words. It had, you were sure. Your mother had been a parent to her as well, and the pain of her loss cut deep.

“Don’t.” You breathed, your vision swirling as you felt the familiar darkness crawl up your spine. “Please.”

Liana released a sigh, then pressed her fingers beneath your chin. She searched your gaze, reading your expression. You didn’t know what she was looking for, nor what she would find, but after a moment she seemed satisfied with her assessment.

“Don’t let them break you.”

She was gone in a few swift movements, propelling herself onto the shoddy roof of the rundown building. Just because you were sidelined didn’t mean she was, and you knew you couldn’t be bitter over it when your entire operation depended on all of you.

So you took a brief moment to steady your breathing, deciding maybe you could embrace the role you’d play for the next week. Being an assassin had always come first, and royalty second. It’d been that way since you were just a kid, learning to defend yourself with dull blades.

Your parents hadn’t meant to let you train at a young age, even planned on delaying telling you about their extracurricular activities, but after your father had been gravely injured and had stumbled into you, they’d explained it all.

Truthfully, you were too young at the time to understand what it all meant, and, perhaps, if you were older, you might’ve chosen not to go down the route you did. After all, not everyone in the Order went on missions, some simply supported the Assassins. In recent yours, that’s what your father more or less became. He’d never been as quick or skilled as your mother, and after her death, he’d strayed from that path altogether, save the occasional need to don his Assassin robes.

You stretched, mindful of the stitches in your side, and jumped back into the fray of proper society. It was a role, you reminded yourself, one you might even have fun with if you let yourself.

It took you roaming around for a couple of hours to realize you would not, in fact, have fun with the charade. Every store you tried to enter gawked at the idea of you walking around without a chaperone. When you weren’t getting stared at for being unchaperoned, you were getting stared at hungrily by suitors hoping to get you in compromising situations.

By the time you had trudged back to the Bridgerton home to prepare for promenading in Hyde Park, you were in a sullen mood- a mood only made worse by the fact that there was still an impending conversation you owed Benedict Bridgerton.

You bathed yourself quickly, and dressed in a pastel green dress. It reminded you of the rolling hills outside your home, and the memories were enough to make you throw it on. Some days, you really did miss your home.

You knew, however, that you’d grown out of it. Your time as an Assassin, especially one as skilled as you, had taken you around the globe. The long, golden hallways and intricately painted ceilings felt foreign to you now. Perhaps the feeling of longing you felt wasn’t for your home specifically, but rather the feeling you experienced when you found home.

You puffed out a breath, deciding a walk to the park would do you good. You were getting much too sentimental this day, and it was only a matter of time before your past forced you to listen.

The walk to the park wasn’t far, and the gentle breeze of the wind reminded you of the times you’d spent high above the ground, perched just a nudge from the edge of a drop that would surely kill you. A week without being an Assassin.

A week without being you.

Daphne was the first to see you arrive, and she had a wide smile on her lips that you found yourself returning. She was a sweet girl, and you liked to think that in a different world, one where you weren’t indoctrinated into the Order at such a young age, you might’ve been more like her.

“Your highness,” she greeted sweetly, drawing the rest of her family’s attention. “It is wonderful to see you.”

Her voice was so genuine it made your heart squeeze in your chest. All of your friends were Assassins. As such, you’d all been a bit more distant, death hanging over your heads like a rain cloud, waiting for when you least expected it to strike.

“It is wonderful to see you too,” you replied in kind, and found that you did mean it.

You cleared your throat.

“Is your Duke planning on making an appearance?”

She didn’t comment on your use of the word ‘your’ but she definitely reacted to it. Pink tinged her cheeks, and she offered you a meek nod, so unlike her normally carefully spoken self.

Noted.

You tilted your head in Benedict’s direction, steadfastly ignoring the curious look Anthony was shooting you. He was connecting non-existent dots in regards to you and Benedict, but you’d let him do so, if only because he couldn’t know the truth. And, perhaps, in an effort to keep a distance between you.

“Benedict,” you called, your voice a little softer than normal. “You promised a stroll around the park?”

His momentarily confusion was shook off as he understood what you were alluding too, nodding far too enthusiastically. Whether he realized it or not, he was selling the idea that there may be something more than friendship between you. A quick glance at Anthony confirmed he believed so too, if the scowl on his face was anything to go by.

You ignored it, however, instead looping your arm through Benedict’s and leading the two of you to somewhere a little quieter. You waited until you were sufficiently outside of earshot before you began speaking, and even then, you scanned the area to make sure there were no wandering eyes or ears.

“About the other-“

“I was in a fight,” you said, watching his expression carefully.

He didn’t falter, as if that’d been one of his suspicions. He nodded slowly, cautiously.

“Okay,” he drawled, “Why?”

You sucked in a breath, pulling him towards a lovely rose bush. To anyone of the outside, it looked simply as if you’d stopped to admire them. Truthfully, you’d taken a minute to gather your thoughts.

“What I’m about to say, you cannot repeat.”

Before he could reply, you hissed out, “Ever.”

He swallowed, then paused.

“I promise.”

Your eyes hardened, one hand holding onto your forearm, atop the bracers your hidden blades were concealed in. You hadn’t been able to put the weapons down since you got to London.

“Do you think peace and freedom can coexist?”

If he was confused by your question, he didn’t show it. His answer was near immediate, and perhaps you knew what his reply would be before he even voiced it.

“Yes,” he mumbled. “I don’t see how that answers anything, though.”

You nodded, tapping your fingers along the bracer. It wasn’t visible under the fabric of your dress, and if anyone wondered why you wore sleeves in the warm weather, nobody asked.

“There’s a war,” you spoke slowly, allowing him to digest your words. “For as long as history itself, a battle between freedom and order. My family… we fight for freedom.”

He furrowed his brows, leaning in a titch to examine you closer.

“You… fight?” He inquired, shaking his head the smallest bit. “What war? What are you talking about?”

“Assassins and Templars,” you breathed, watching as his eyes widened, not in recognition of the institutions, but in fear of the word you’d used.

Assassin.

It was an ugly word used to describe an occupation associated with greed and death. He didn’t know about the Order, though. Didn’t know that the Assassins you knew weren’t murderers without a cause, but defenders of the very freedom he enjoyed.

“You’re an-“

“Assassin,” you answered, quick to wrap a tight grip around his arm when he made to turn around.

For whatever reason, or maybe stroke of luck, he believed you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t associating you with the Order, but rather the occupation.

“Let me explain,” you breathed out, making sure to keep your voice even and gentle.

Even though he looked ready to dart away and take his family with him, he nodded once.

You blew out a breath, carefully letting his arm go. He rubbed at where you’d grabbed, and you realized perhaps you’d been holding on a little too tight.

“The Assassin Order is an ancient creed built on the idea of freedom of choice,” you explained, letting your carefully placed mask drop.

You didn’t fight the expressions on your face, nor did you keep your body language unnaturally still. For the first time since you’d known him, you were expressive.

“We don’t kill for money, Benedict,” you said, “Nor for political gain. If we kill,” his eyes widened at the word, “We do so as a last resort to protect others.”

“You’ve killed before?”

He sounded unnaturally small, like a child telling his parents he had a nightmare. You held his stare, praying he could see the sadness deep in your soul.

You hated killing.

It never, ever got easier.

But, you would darken your soul to protect the world from the ugly truth the Templars tried to spread.

“Yes,” you whispered, your eyes shining with a guilt Benedict couldn’t understand.

He puffed out a breath and ran a hand down his face, unable to look into your eyes anymore. He could see the sadness there, the heaviness of the guilt and torment you carried.

You weren’t a bad person. He’d known that, and learning of who you were didn’t change that. It did complicate it a bit though.

“I won’t tell them,” he finally spoke after a particularly long pause. “My family, I mean.”

You were both staring at the roses now. To him, the deep red reminded him of the colors of love, like the still-beating heart of a lover. To you, it was the color of blood, the same sticky heat that stained your hands from the years you spent devoted to your cause.

In that park, you both stood in silence, two people who were starkly different, but perhaps, who could understand each other in a way nobody else could.

The romantic who, despite his station in life, only wanted to create, to make beauty in a world that severely lacked it- and the Assassin who, despite spending a lifetime of fighting, wanted to feel safe again.

Even the wind acknowledged the shift in atmosphere between the two people who actively rejected the roles they’d been born into as it calmed down, it’s caress more like that of a lover than it’d been all afternoon.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you murmured.

He linked his arm back through yours, offering a bit of comfort in the torrent of your thoughts. Slowly, he tugged you back towards where his family was, his pace nearly stopping before he got too close.

“Is it lonely?”

The question took you by surprise, and you looked up at him to find, not horror, but concern. You couldn’t understand how he’d been able to accept you so quickly, but you desperately clung to the feeling.

“Constantly,” you answered sadly, the curve of your lips echoing the melancholic declaration.

Anthony had approached the two of you while you answered, and, despite surprising Benedict, you’d already noticed him. With some amount of amusement, the second son noted that particular bit of information.

“Princess,” he said stiffly, without the normal amount of warmth and affection, or ire, you noted dryly. “Benedict.”

His brother’s name was a warning, and the younger of the two was quick to scurry away with a half-hearted excuse.

“Viscount,” you inclined your head.

He paused for only a brief moment before, with a little bit too much aggression, he asked, “Are you courting my brother?”

There was a hint of mischief as your smile grew, and you gazed up at Anthony beneath your lashes.

“That, I dare say, is none of your business.”

His expression turned even more foul, and he all but growled your name.

“No, my dearest Anthony,” you slipped a hand around his bicep and squeezed, your stomach doing a gentle flip when he visibly relaxed at the answer. “I am not courting anybody.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I must seem at least the slightest bit interested in my suitors, lest word get back to my father,” you joked, unable to bear the intensity with which he was staring at you.

He opened his mouth, as if to tell you to stay, but you slipped away before he could, your heart pounding in your chest. You glared at the spot, like you could will it to slow down.

Anthony Bridgerton was not, and could never be, an option.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine

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valkyriexo · 7 months ago

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˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Valkyriexo April 2024 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

— Today marks my 1st month on Stayblr ♡

— I want to thank everyone for their likes, reblogs, and comments so far

— I'm truly touched by the wonderful comments and kind words you've shared. Each comment motivates me to keep writing and sharing.

— When I started sharing my stories, I never expected this much love. Your support and kind words mean everything to me.

— I'm also overjoyed to share that we've surpassed 300 followers! This is truly amazing, and I'm incredibly grateful for your support. As a way to say thank you, I'm planning a special event, but I'm still brainstorming ideas. If you have any suggestions or preferences for what you'd like to see as a thank-you gesture, please feel free to share them!

— Here's a roundup of all the works I've completed in my first month of sharing stories with you:

╰┈➤ texts.

*·˚ᑉ³💬 Skz Texts | Best friends skz accidentally confessing when they're jealous/mad | OT8 | Fluff

*·˚ᑉ³ 💬 Skz Texts | They break up with you | OT8 | angst

*·˚ᑉ³ 💬 Skz Texts | They want you to meet their parents | OT8 | Fluff

*·˚ᑉ³ 💬 Skz Texts | Confessing to another member's girlfriend | OT8 | Fluff, angst

*·˚ᑉ³💬 Skz texts You get scared playfighting | Chan | Comfort, fluff

*·˚ᑉ³ 💬 Skz texts You feel insecure | Hyunjin| Comfort, fluff

╰┈➤ one-shots.

*·˚ᑉ³ Microphones and Mistakes |Part 2 | Chan | Angst

࿐ྂ Amidst the chaos of a highly anticipated performance, You find yourself grappling with unexpected challenges both on and off-stage. With the pressure of your debut song with Stray Kids mounting, you face technical difficulties and personal turmoil, including a rambunctious toddler and a strained relationship with your husband, Chan.

*·˚ᑉ³ Broken Promises | Chan | Angst

࿐ྂ You and your fiancé, Chan, are eagerly planning your wedding, envisioning a future together. But when doubts about your relationship's strength begin to emerge, you're faced to confront a choice; salvage what's left or walk away.

*·˚ᑉ³ Nightmares | Minho| Angst, Comfort

࿐ྂLost in a nightmare where Minho is gone, fear consumes you. Panic claws at your chest, each breath heavy with the weight of imagined loss. In the void left by his absence, shadows that dance mockingly in the corners of your mind. In this surreal realm of darkness, where reality blurs with the surreal, you're left grappling with the haunting question: where has Minho gone?

*·˚ᑉ³Pretty Pretty Princess | Changbin| Fluff

࿐ྂ The adventures of Dad Binnie and Daughter Ha-ri

*·˚ᑉ³ One + One = Three | Hyunjin| Angst, Fluff

࿐ྂIn the serene world of a rising K-pop star, you find solace in the quiet moments shared with your boyfriend, Hyunjin. Their love is carefully concealed, known only to a select few. But when a scandalous article surfaces, threatening to expose their carefully guarded secret, Y/N must navigate the treacherous waters of fame, loyalty, and betrayal.

╰┈➤ series.

Invasion of privacy | Poster | Teaser | Chan | Coming soon

࿐ྂ In the dazzling world of fame, you have it all—a beautiful home, devoted fans, and Chan, the love of your life. But when cryptic messages start arriving, the line between adoration and obsession blurs. With each note, fear grips tighter. Now, you're on a dangerous journey to uncover the truth before it's too late.

╰┈➤ collections.

࿐ྂDIVERGENT *·˚ᑉ³ What Faction would they be in? | Headcannon

╰┈➤ headcanons.

*·˚ᑉ³ How Skz would ask you to be theirs | Hyung | Maknae

╰┈➤ thoughts.

*·˚ᑉ³ Late night thoughts 001 | Chan | Fluff, angst

#300 followers #milestone celebration #follower milestone #thank you #skz #changbin #bang chan #hyunjin #jeongin #lee felix #lee know #seungmin #minho #stray kids #p1harmony

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darkestescapes · 2 years ago

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Warnings: 21+. MDNI. Yan!JK x Emotionally Abused! Fem! Reader. Parental issues. Hating relatives and family. Reader is just not appreciated by her family okay. Yandere content. Implied isolation which is lowkey consensual(?). Smut. Mentions of cream pie, voyeurism, etc. Mentions of murder (idea only).

There's this understanding between Yan!JK and his darling that she never has to talk to her parents ever again. She is free to use him as an excuse and also living away from her parents with her lover is most ideal. Most ideal for the both of them.

She gets to avoid the snarky remarks thrown towards her, avoid those tiresome and annoying and highly unnecessary family get-togethers where she has to pretend to like her relatives who all just want to watch her burn. It's not really her fault that their kids and grandkids weren't able to cross her qualifications. The best part though, she gets to avoid that mental torture her parents put her through her entire life. But when confronted all they do is gaslight her and make her the bad guy.

Of course Yan!JK completely understands her, I mean, he gets to keep her all to himself forever and forever and all the damn time. He keeps her happy and content and so satisfied and makes her feel so special just by looking at her.

And damn when he holds her, all she wants to do is just stay there all the damn time. His strong muscular arms holding, squeezing her so tight she feels dizzy. Him laying on her chest and cuddling her like a baby and wanting his long luscious hair to be played with. How can she not oblige?

This cute, hot, sexy, sweet, caring, perfect man is so in love with her she would be a fool to go anywhere else. And she doesn't even want to. Who would go back to an abusive place when there is a choice of staying in the safest place in the world with him.

And he's so happy she understands his love for her. She understands why he doesn't let her go to those tiresome get-togethers. Unfortunately they can't always avoid them, but he knows that with him by her side she can do anything she wants to.

Yan!JK loves his darling enough to kill someone without questioning why she wants them dead. But she's a smart girl, she won't misuse that for no reason.

Yan!JK is definitely a giver, not just romantically but also sexually. Would it be so wrong of him to ask his darling to find a dim corner so he can stick his fingers in her hole and make her cum so hard she leaves a bite mark on his shoulder?

Would it be so wrong of him to gently convince her to let him cum in her tight little cunt and fill her up so good she's wet till the next morning with his cum?

Would it be so wrong to take a quick break and go till the car and fuck so hard she'll be limping for the rest of the gathering?

She doesn't think it'll be so bad when she also wants the exact same things as him, right?

#yandere #yandere reader #male yandere #yandere male x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere jungkook smut #yandere bts #yandere bts headcanons #jungkook brainrot #jungkook smut #tw: emotional abuse #yandere smut #female yandere #yandere fluff

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mermaidfanficlibrary · 1 year ago

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Prologue before the Chorus begins | OHSHC x Male Reader

Prologue time!! Enjoy!! My Wattpad and Quotev!

Description: Of A Melody there once was

Prolouge: Prologue before the Chorus begins | {You are here}

Chapter 1: An introduction to the first note

Chapter 2: The joining of notes to create a nostalgic song

Chapter 3: Violin of Harmony

Chapter 4: Remembering the screeching tune in the memory | TBR

Chapter 5: TBD

Chapter 6: TBD

Chapter 7: TBD

Chapter 8: TBD

Chapter 9: TBD

Chapter 10: TBD

Chapter 11: TBD

Chapter 12: TBD

Chapter 13: TBD

Chapter 14: TBD

Chapter 15: TBD

Chapter 16: TBD

Chapter 17: TBD

Chapter 18: TBD

Chapter 19: TBD

Chapter 20: TBD

Chapter 21: TBD

Chapter 22: TBD

Chapter 23: TBD

Chapter 24: TBD

Chapter 25: TBD

Chapter 26: TBD

WARNING: implied death

Everyone had surrounded the young boy in the suit that fit his stature. His eyes so bright and full of life as he stood in the middle of the crowd. He loved having everyone's eyes on him. His lips had moved rhythmically as each note, each lyric, dripped out of his mouth like honey.

With the last word he had sung, there was a pause. All the guests there had clapped and cheered. This was young Y/n's life, and he was used to it. It wasn't a big life or an important one, but it was his. As his mini concert had ended, Y/n stepped toward his mom playfully.

“How was that mama? Did I do the notes right?”

The young boy's mother stared down at him with a kind smile. She had picked up the boy to flaunt to her friends as they complimented him. She wasn't avoiding the question, just needed to show the young boy she held in her hands how much of an impact he had on everyone around him. The young boy was a charmer, there was no doubt about that fact in anyone's mind.

This was not intentional. Every time he had tugged at the heart stings of his audience, it was all unintentional. Y/n was oblivious to this all the time, and it left him in an ignorance that was sort of a blissful one. His mother and pulled him in front of her while she held him close.

"You did beautifully Y/n! Everyone was enchanted! Taken to the world as your melody played through your voice."

The little boy in her arms had sparkles in his eyes. He was so proud his mother thought so highly of him. He was only 7 years old, but people saw a great future in him. He was not of wealth or fame, not of big fame that is, and of moderate wealth. His family was having a small party with friends, and this was all just to get Y/n to sing his melody to the friends of his parents.

They sometimes used the boy as a way to brag or bring some praise to them, but it brought so much joy to see everyone enjoy his melodies and songs. His singing was not the only musical talent Y/n had.

The singing was only one of many acts he was going to do for the guests in front of him. He was very well versed in many musical instruments, but Y/n did have his favorites. Even though they were of cliché choices, Violin and Piano were his favorites.

They were the sweetest out of the most, and delicate. Much like the boy who played them. He never understood how someone could make these instruments sound so aggressive, but he always made them delicate and soft, even with the songs of an aggressive tone. It may be because the instrument matches that of who plays them.

Before the second act, Y/n went to go find his closest friend. It was the only other child who was invited, and this is because this child was polite and of a nature that matched that of grown-ups. But with Y/n the two acted as any child would.

Y/n had found his brown haired friend after a minute of searching. It took longer because he was stopped by all the guests he passed to get a picture with them or to talk to them. It was mostly chatter of asking if he remembered them, which he didn't most of the time.

"Haru-chan! I'm over here!"

The brown eyed child looked at her friend with a blank stare. Y/n had run up to her with a big hug and spun her around. The two had gone to school together, and they lived pretty close, even if Y/n lived in a small house.

Y/n was really fond of Haruhi, she had made him happy and stood by him when no one would. Even if the two were only 7, they were really close with each other. They had been friends since they were 3.

"Did you like my song?"

Haruhi had nodded slightly as a response before her gentle voice had spoke.

"Mhm, it seems everyone else did too. I do have a question."

Y/n perked up at the thought of Haruhi having a question for him. She rarely did because she had the little boy figured out so quickly. But one thing had stumped her about his character.

"Why do you sing?"

Y/n had giggled at the question, but not in a way of being mean. No, it was in a gentle, childlike way.

"Because my melodies bring everyone so much joy! After each note of a song, people seem to be smiling!"

After that, the two played with each other. They played pretend mostly. Y/n was always the prince and Haruhi the knight or someone that would protect the prince. She never liked the gender roles of being the princess, and she saw herself more of a protector.

Haruhi had made it her duty to be Y/n's protector in a way since he was so popular for his singing. But sadly, this would have been one of the last times he would have sung for a group of people.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Stuck in a white hospital, with his dad, Y/n was sitting ideally. Curious as to why they were here. Was Y/n sick? He didn't feel sick. He hadn't realized his mother was not with them. Y/n was only 10, he was more focused on the thoughts of curiosity of the surroundings.

He also wondered why he was not in school. Right now, he would have been studying with Haruhi, and making her panic a bit with his lack of knowledge on some things.

The two had cared for each other as if they were siblings, and some thought their relationship would be deeper than what they showed. They were only children, however, and only ever saw each other as siblings. Y/n had tugged on his father's sleeve.

"Dad, why are we here? Do I need a check-up? Are you sick?"

His father seemed to be stuck in his own mind as to what to tell this innocent child of his. He had not realized how much this would hurt his father.

"Y/n, my sweetest child of mine. Your mother is very sick right now. They might need to keep her in the hospital."

His father looked away with sadness. Y/n's eyes were shocked. His mother sick? No, it couldn't be his mother. His mother wasn't sick. Y/n was stuck in a loop of denial.

This poor boy was so sucked into his thoughts that he didn't notice he buried his head in his father's sleeve, crying. Y/n's father only patted him on the head, joining his child in the crying.

"Not my momma! She's gonna get better, right? She'll be okay and come back right, papa?"

The boy's father did not answer, only bringing his child closer to him. The nurse at the reception desk looked at them both with sympathy in her eyes. She could only imagine what their future would be like.

A year passed and Y/n's dearest mother was not doing any better. Haruhi and Y/n had visited her as much as they could, and Y/n even sang her songs. But Haruhi had noticed that after each visit, her friend grew more and more timid. Y/n's mother was his lifeline, so of course he was lower than he was before. Y/n had always thanks Haruhi for joining and comforting him whenever he cried.

This week was especially hard because Y/n's mother was in a comatose state. Haruhi only ever had empathy for her friend during this time. She recalled the time when her own mother had died and all the time Y/n used to try to make her feel better.

All the songs he had sung for her. Y/n even joined Haruhi when she would pray to her mother. She greatly appreciated Y/n for this, and intended to do the same.

"She's not getting any better. No matter what song I sing, she never smiles at the end. Am I doing a bad job, Haru-chan?"

Haruhi felt a pang in her heart for the young boy she stared at. Even though his goal for singing was a sweet one, it was one of the worst. This is because even if one person did not smile at the end of one of Y/n's melodies, he would feel saddened.

"It's not your fault, Y/n. She's just really tired right now, and needs to rest. Come on, let's go get some ice cream. My dad said he could take us to the small shop you like so much."

Y/n cheered up at this for a bit, but it didn't cure his full sadness. He enjoyed his time with Haruhi and her father. He loved her dad, he always thought Ryoji was funny. He even liked his job and thought it was a cool job to have.

Ryoji counted Y/n as one of his own sons because of how much time the boy spent with the small family. And during the last year, Y/n's father had asked them to take care of him while he worked.

After the week had finished, Y/n got the dreaded news he never wanted. Y/n's mother had passed on, and the once joyous boy was solemn and sad. Haruhi tried her best to cheer the poor boy up, and it worked a couple of times, but never fully.

Y/n's father was always busy, so he was left either alone or in the care of Haruhi's father. It made Y/n sad because he desperately wanted his father to comfort him.

After another year had passed, Y/n's father decided to move to America. He wanted a fresh start and leaving the past of his dead wife. Y/n was apposed to this because he would be leaving his dearest friend behind. His father understood, but said that Y/n could visit whenever he wanted. They had said their goodbyes, and luckily Y/n had a means of still talking to Haruhi.

But after they had left for America, Y/n's melody had stopped. He still sang, but never for others. It was more for himself to remember his mom. He still played, but it was for his mother. Everything he did that involved music was for the remembrance of his mother.

After every song had ended, he would end up a teary mess. The tears had stopped happening a couple of years later, but the songs still left Y/n sad.

His father had signed Y/n up to become a singer prodigy, but Y/n refused. However, Y/n still did it. Y/n had become a mini celerity within his area, but it wasn't something he wanted. He only wanted the fame if his mother was there. But even with his melody dying out, it never did stop.

With high school nearing close for Y/n, his father had gotten a letter of recommendation from the Ouran school chairman himself. His father was reluctant to enroll his son, especially back in the area he had left behind. But Y/n's father had given him some thought and called Ryoji. They both agreed that Y/n could stay in the apartment next to them and that Y/n could return to his old home. Y/n's father told him about the news and right after he got it, Y/n bolted for the airport right away.

Y/n had made some decent money being the mini celerity he had become, but he was still considered of the lower class. So Y/n was left with a scholarship, but luckily enough was able to afford the uniform. Though when he arrived, Y/n was so focused on trying to prepare for school, he didn't get a chance to meet back up with Haruhi the way he wanted.

In fact, Y/n didn’t even realize he was moving in right next to Haruhi. This was a detail his father left out, but it wasn’t purposeful. He did say Ryoji would check up on Y/n, but nothing about Haruhi.

Little did Y/n know, he would see her. The first day of school at the new school he was going to attend. And he had opted out on wearing the uniform the first day.

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

#🪸.mermaid time #🪸.mermaid fanfic #🎵. Of a Melody there Once Was | Ohshc x male reader #ouran high school host club #ouran high school host club x male reader #ouran high school host club x reader #ohshc x reader #ohshc x male reader #ouran high school host club x male y/n #ouran high school host club x y/n #ohshc x y/n #ohshc x male y/n

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addictedtostorytelling · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! I love your meta and how beautifully you write about GSR, I would like to know what you think about this, do you think Grissom and Sara would have been good parents? Why do you think the show didn’t allowed them to have a geek baby?

hi, anon!

thank you for your kind words!

i have got a big, ol' meta that covers my thoughts on potential gsr parenthood here, if you're interested.

i also have another big, ol' meta that specifically covers my thoughts on how they would have reacted to experiencing an unplanned pregnancy during their "secret dating" phase in s5-s6 here, if you're interested in that one, as well.

the tl;dr version is that while i think grissom and sara would be kickass parents were that particular life choice one they ever decided to make together, i also don't think they would necessarily ever be likely to make that particular life choice together, just given their respective characters and backgrounds.

grissom is—prior to his retirement—highly career-driven, meaning he might not want to put his focus on parenthood rather than work. he likewise has some pretty sizeable hang-ups regarding his own capacity to nurture and be unselfish, his age, his social deficits, etc., all of which might cause him to question his potential fitness as a father.

there's a line from another show i love from a character facing down the prospect of first-time fatherhood that i can absolutely see grissom saying (in so many words): "if, for nine months, you're hearing how this is gonna change your life, and ‘you've never loved anything like this’ and ‘my god, the love!’ and ‘nothing is gonna be important anymore’—it just never felt to me like i was someone who had the capacity for those feelings. plus, you know, i-i like what's important to me. i want it to stay important. i wanna be able to do it well."

meanwhile, sara has her own considerable hang-ups regarding how she was raised, her family and personal history of mental illness, her social deficits, etc. that might cause her to feel similarly unequipped for motherhood. she is also in her twenties and thirties—i.e., prime childbearing years—very career-minded, like grissom, so she might not be inclined to step away (even temporarily) to have a kid.

maybe if grissom and sara were to experience an unplanned pregnancy at some point, they would (under very specific circumstances) consider the possibility of having a child. ditto for maybe a one-in-a-million type scenario where they encountered a kid in the system who needed fostering or adopting.

however, i think nine times out of ten, they'd opt not to have a kid—and especially not if "nature never came to bear" or if one was never put directly into their paths.

that said, since i personally find the idea of them as parents very intriguing—the issue is one that pushes a lot of fun character buttons for both of them, butting up against their hopes and fears and senses of self in some very complicated and interesting ways—i have written a big, ol' geek!baby fic, where they find themselves dealing with an unplanned pregnancy in an au version of s8.

i call it the happy accidentsverse, and if you're interested, you can read that fic series here.

as for the issue of why the show never pursued a "grissom and sara have a kid" storyline in canon, i think there are probably multiple reasons why they didn't.

more discussion after the "keep reading," if you're interested.

to my mind, probably the biggest reason why we never saw a "grissom and sara have a kid" storyline in canon is that, particularly in the earlier seasons of the show, the showrunners tried not to focus too much on the characters' home lives.

though they would show the occasional "off the clock" scene here or there or every once in a while toss in some kind of love interest- or family-centric story beat, anthony zuiker and co. wanted the majority of the show's focus to be on the job—on the cases the csis investigated, the goings-on at the lab and in the field, the team's interactions with each other as colleagues, the team's interactions with other law enforcement professionals and people they met in connection to their cases, in the politics of the department, etc.

they were much stricter about this policy even than other procedurals of the time.

that's why we saw so little of grissom and sara's romantic relationship actually play out on screen—because tptb never intended to offer us anything more than just a small window into their personal lives outside of their careers.

and while of course grissom and sara having a kid (whether through sara getting pregnant or them deciding to foster and/or adopt) would definitely affect their working lives and could allow for some interesting storylines centered around the lab and in the field—for example, how might sara deal with the physical and emotional requirements of her incredibly demanding job while pregnant?, how might grissom and sara have to change their workaholic habits if they were to try to become foster or adoptive parents?, how might having a kid in the mix affect both grissom and sara's willingness to face the dangers inherent in their profession?, would becoming parents change the way they responded to certain cases?, etc.—that kind of storyline, just by its nature, would also probably require the show to spend more time at home with grissom and sara than the showrunners and writers ever really intended to.

narratively speaking, catherine having a school-aged kid to start out the show is one thing, while grissom and sara having a newborn or a brand new foster kid and becoming first-time parents would be something else entirely.

in catherine's case, her being a mom to an older kid from the get-go is a much more lowkey deal, not only because a kid at that age can mostly exist in an off-screen capacity except for in episodes where her presence is plot-relevant but also because it's an already-established fact.

catherine is a mother—and an experienced mother, at that—from the very first time we meet her; it's part of both her personal and professional identities from day #1. the baseline is there. there are no questions about it. no big blanks to fill in. she's already made the life-changing decisions. she's already entrenched in that role.

the same would not be true if grissom and sara were to have a kid.

because they were "first timers" (and especially because they had seemingly never aspired to parenthood previously), the show would have to answer questions with them—depict grissom and sara making the huge, life-altering decisions; reckoning with big emotions; figuring stuff out; working through their fears and hang-ups; adjusting to a monumental change in their lives; drawing together in new ways; changing and developing as characters and as a couple; establishing new patterns; etc.

the groundwork would need to be laid where the audience could see it being laid in real time, you know?

and laying that groundwork would require showing lots of private conversations between grissom and sara, trips to the ob's office or talks with the social worker, painting the nursery or putting up a swing set, making childcare arrangements, changing their lifestyle, etc.

my sense is that tptb never really wanted to go there.

that much focus on grissom and sara's home life would have been too distracting—too much of a serialized personal storyline that required attention in every episode, regardless of the "case of the day"—for their tastes.

now.

in theory, the "keep the focus on the job, not the home" rule is one tptb could have considered breaking, had they really wanted to.

after all, it was just a production choice, not actually any kind of hard and fast rule, so if they'd decided they wanted to go the "grissom and sara have a kid" route, they could have done so.

there's always the old flannery o'connor maxim: "it's always wrong of course to say that you can't do this or you can't do that in fiction. you can do anything you can get away with, but nobody has ever gotten away with much."

however, another reason why i think they never chose to go the geek!baby route, beyond the "it goes against our sense of what our show is actually about" thing, is that, frankly, within the universe of the show itself, the timing for grissom and sara was never right.

grissom and sara don't even get together as a committed couple until s5/s6, so, barring a major deviation from what is now canon, they likely could not have had a child at any point prior to 2005/2006, just to start out with.

then their relationship remains a secret until the end of s7/beginning of s8, meaning that between 2006-2007, they're definitely not looking to have a kid and probably would be pretty averse to having one even were they to experience an unplanned pregnancy, just given the potential fallout where their jobs are concerned.

they would have to "come out" as a couple, and one or both of them might end up getting fired over it.

fast forward, and between s8 and s9, sara experiences a mental health crisis that eventually culminates with her moving away from vegas for the better part of two years from 2008 to 2009 while grissom remains behind—and by the time she's stable and moves back to vegas circa 2009/2010, grissom is then living abroad, and they're only seeing each other once a month via transatlantic commute.

back in the day, when sara first turned up in s10, i know there was some internet scuttlebutt that maybe at some point it would be revealed that in-between the events of episode 09x10 "one to go" (when last we'd seen them) and episode 10x01 "family affair" (when sara returns to vegas to "temp"), grissom and sara had had a "secret honeymoon baby."

however, such a revelation was never made—timeline-wise, it would have been a tight fit anyhow, as, within the universe of the show, episode 09x10 "one to go" takes place in january '09 and episode 10x01 "family affair" takes place in september '09—and neither did grissom and sara ever have a kid at any subsequent point.

with sara living in the states and grissom not, the likelihood that they would ever decide to expand their family steadily diminished as s10, s11, and s12 rolled on, both because they were getting older and because their marriage eventually ended up on the rocks.

cue the whole divorce debacle of s13, a few solid years of misery and loneliness in the interim, and by the time grissom and sara get back together/remarried in 2015, sara is forty-four years old and probably peri- or even full-on menopausal, and she and grissom are living a nomadic seafaring lifestyle, so the likelihood of them either having a biological child or fostering/adopting is incredibly low.

again, there was some speculation among fans—based on previous comments from showrunner anthony zuiker regarding his ideas for grissom and sara's post-"immortality" life at sea—that when the reboot rolled around, we would eventually get a "in the six years since we last saw them, grissom and sara have had a kid" reveal.

no dice, though.

s1 of csi: vegas ran its course with no secret boat babies anywhere.

all of the above being the case, there just weren't even that many points during the show's run when it would have made logistical sense for grissom and sara to have children together.

they were always either in a state of having to keep their relationship a secret for the sake of their careers or else of living apart from each other, and by the time they finally got all their shit together and were living in the same place on a full-time basis, sara was nearing the end of her prime childbearing years and they were living the kind of lifestyle where fostering/adoption would be next to impossible.

narratively-speaking, parenthood just was never in the cards for them.

of course, it's worth stating, the writers could have maybe swung a geek!baby storyline in the later seasons had they wanted to if they had just made the choice to move grissom back to vegas along with sara between s10 and s15. he wouldn't even have had to appear on-screen. sara would have just needed to reference him occasionally in dialogue and be shown to take phone calls from him at times, a "i'm meeting grissom for our first ultrasound appointment" here, a "he's been at home painting the nursery all morning. he put little ladybugs up the walls" there. they could have done a whole pregnancy storyline that way, and it would have given sara something to do during seasons when she is otherwise criminally underutilized. then maybe if they were lucky, they could have gotten billy to come back for a guest spot when it came time for the baby to be born. but, alas, such a storyline would have required them to imply depth, which is something they had no idea how to do.

—which brings us to the last big reason why i think the showrunners never had grissom and sara have children:

because, ultimately, they just never felt it was right for the characters.

as stated above, both grissom and sara have plenty of reasons, both individually and as a couple, based on their backgrounds and predilections and development, why they might never choose to pursue parenthood.

while there are certain very particular scenarios were i can imagine they might set those reasons aside, overcome their hang-ups and fears, and decide to "go for it" re: having kids, i also think it would take a lot of narrative work to get them there—that thread would be something the writers would have had to really develop, requiring more than a few "acts of god" and major plot interventions to make the idea seem feasible.

they could have done it if they really wanted to.

but in the end, i think they didn't feel any compelling need.

grissom and sara have been an unconventional couple from the get-go, and their development has been circuitous and unstraightforward. there have been many setbacks for them along the way and strange turns. they've definitely not done everything "by the book."

for them to have a somewhat "untraditional" happy ending—at least by primetime, network early 00s flagship couple tv standards—makes a good amount of sense.

they're not the "white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and a dog" norman rockwell family, and i think tptb are very okay with that outcome.

they like the image of this middle-aged couple that found immense fulfillment in each other and in their shared work (whether as csis or conservationists) and never felt the need to look outside of those things in order to be happy.

that's not to say they might not have written things differently had some of the production realities of the show been different along the way—like, say jorja fox had never left the show during s8 and grissom and sara had been able to get married in vegas as planned while both still working at the lab or that billy had come back to the show with jorja between s10 and s15; maybe in those cases, they might have eventually decided to go for the geek!baby storyline after all—however, all things as they were, i think they were generally pretty comfortable with how things ended up in regards to grissom and sara remaining childless.

they had explored the notion of "csis as parents" as much as they cared to with catherine, warrick, and russell.

they didn't want to go there with grissom and sara.

and who knows? maybe there were other outside factors that influenced their decision to that end, like actor preferences or the difficulty of including infant actors in a complicated production such as theirs, etc.

suffice it to say, i think the showrunners' decision to keep grissom and sara childless was probably a multifaceted one.

the good news is, regardless of how things turned out in canon, we as fans can always play around with the geek!baby concept as much as we want to and in as many different permutations as we like.

i certainly have a lot of fun in my accidentsverse, imagining grissom and sara facing both the challenges and rewards of parenthood, and i know a lot of other fan authors who have their own takes on that idea, as well.

anyway.

rambling now.

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

#answered #anon #asks: csi #**#my meta #meta: csi #meta: gsr #meta: production #speculation csi #gb #let's talk shop #csiverse

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yunacoeur · 2 years ago

Text

the worlds that collide

our last dance: chapter i

chapter synopsis: you, as the oldest royal child of your family, are up to take the throne. in your search for a partner to be consort, the royal family is throwing a party in your name for you to meet potential suitors.

this story begins with your first dance, and will end with our last.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: thank you guys so much for your patience with me while i’ve been preparing this series! i hope this chapter gets you excited for what’s to come!

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the invitation is small, just a white card with the insignia of the king on the back and a short message on the front. hundreds of these invitations have been sent out across all kingdoms in the land. the message reads:

“the oldest child of the great and honorable king and queen of zerose is to be wed soon. we ask that available suitors from all kingdoms come to a party being held in our dear royal’s honor. any and all questions may go to the royal staff.”

it’s a party held in your honor so you may find a husband. isn’t that wonderful? the only issue is that you don’t know most of them and it will be hard to decide on a husband. of course you don’t have to make the decision immediately, as this party is only being thrown as an introduction. still, it feels like you are on a time limit.

the party is in just a few hours, but the tension in your heart is only getting stronger by the second, but you must find a partner soon if only to unify the kingdoms in response to political conflict. the people need something good to focus on. a royal wedding would be enough.

your parents are good rulers, they are kind and giving, and it’s a difficult position that you will have to take up, but it must be done. they are tired of ruling, and likely just want to relax and let you take the wheel.

at the current moment, a royal staff member is helping you choose the attire you will wear during the event, but it is not enough to distract you from the looming task.

“i suppose i don’t know if i have it in me to make such a choice. what if ‘the one’ isn’t in that room tonight?” you tell her, and she continues working as she responds to you.

“well, your highness, i believe you will find who you are looking for. they will also not rank as highly as you in our kingdom, so if they turn out to be a poor ruler, you can easily override them,” she says, draping the cloth against your skin, “would you prefer a more saturated blue or a more greyish-blue?”

“whatever suits me the most. i trust your opinion,” you say. she’s right of course. there’s no reason why you should be worried on the political front. you will always outrank them, in your kingdom at least. you just worry that they may not be the one your heart truly desires. what if you pick the wrong one and never get the chance to be with one you love?

“thank you, your highness,” she says, brining you back to reality, “i think a less saturated color would suit you more. a bright blue may overpower your natural beauty.”

“okay then,” you hear the door open, turning your head over to see the person behind it.

it’s a maid you know well. she seems to be hurried, like the information she’s delivering is urgent. it worries you because she’s not usually like this.

“your highness,” the maid says, bowing, “your father requested that one of tonight’s guests come early so you may meet him before. he is waiting for you in the ballroom.”

“but isn’t that room still being set up?” you ask curiously, looking over at the staff preparing your clothes. she shrugs. the ballroom has been under preparation all week, but even still it feels like it is just barely coming together.

the maid nods, “yes, your majesty. this guest insisted on helping set up.”

you look back to the staff, who has picked out the final few options for your outfit, pointing to the one you like the most, “get that one ready for me, please. i’ll be back soon for it.”

“of course, your majesty.”

walking through the halls towards the ballroom, gazing out the large windows at the town below, you spend the whole time wondering why your father was insistent on you meeting this guest first. what is the necessity? there will be plenty of time to meet all the suitors tonight, why do any of them deserve a head-start?

and then you see him. you understand.

he’s more than beautiful. ethereal would probably be the best word. he’s laughing with one of the staff as they set up (or attempt to) a banner on the wall. he’s polite and respectful with even just the commoners lingering in the area, treating them so perfectly.

his mother must be so proud to have a son so perfect.

he looks over after hearing the door shut to see you, and he recognizes you immediately just like you did with him.

“your highness!” he calls out, as he walks over to you and bows slightly, “thank you for coming to meet me before the party. my name is sung hanbin, it is such a pleasure to meet you in person… may i?” he asks as he reaches for your hand. you nod and he lifts it up to press a chaste kiss to the side opposite your palm.

he explains to you his story, where he’s from. he’s a prince from another kingdom, younger than the one that should be in line to be king. you wonder if his being sent here is an offering for peace, one of unity, as there has been political tension between kingdoms in the past decades.

“your majesty, may i make a request?” he asks, and you tilt your head in slight confusion.

“you may. what is it?”

he seems bashful for just a second, “i wish to be your first dance of the night when the party starts,” he smiles, the dimples on his cheeks showing. it makes him look cute instead of drop dead gorgeous for just a moment, “can i reserve that spot?”

you laugh, smiling back at him, “i’m sure that can be arranged.”

“okay then. i look forward to it,” he says, but then someone asks for his help in setting up one of the tables, and he turns back to you, still smiling brightly, “excuse me, your majesty, i have to go back. i’ll see you tonight!”

and he’s off to continue helping set up and probably save puppies and solve world hunger while he's at it. you return to what you were doing until the time comes that you’ll come back to the ballroom.

and by what you were doing, you mean you return to the study you use as your safe haven when you’re stressed, the weight of the impending decision already so heavy.

you look up at your desk to see an old photo of you. you were so young and smiled so bright. what you’d give to go back to this moment and relive it. not a care in the world.

part of you hopes to see the boy you were with in the photo tonight.

after a while, you go back to your fitting room to dawn the outfit you picked out earlier. the blue tones are subtle but still there, complemented by bits of silver and black. the outfit is perfect for such an occasion.

as the staff helps you into the outfit, including any accompanying jewelry, you are walked back to the ballroom as the party is about to begin. so many people already fill the halls and the room itself doesn’t seem much quieter. it is bursting with people, and loud, bustling energy.

the first person who seems to be a suitor approaches you the moment you aren’t being smothered by people. he’s tall and well-proportioned, he’s everything in the looks department you could want out of someone.

and then he smiles at you, tripping as he walks over. you realize this man is more clumsy than charming, or maybe he’s just a different kind of charming.

“hi,” he says. nothing else to accompany. when you playfully raise an eyebrow, he remembers, “oh! i’m so sorry, your highness. i am prince kim gyuvin. it’s an honor to be in your presence.”

“i’m sure it is, kim gyuvin,” you smile back at him. he already feels at ease even though he can tell you’re teasing him. he doesn’t mind, “talk with me for a few moments. let’s get to know each other.”

“ah, yes of course, your highness,” he says as you pull him off to the side to chat, “what do you want to know about me?”

and it hits you that you don’t really have a plan for tonight,“ i don’t know what to ask, you’re the first one i’m meeting like this so i don’t really know what we’re supposed to do… what’s your favorite color?” you ask.

“blue. no- green. actually, i don’t really know-” he stumbles, and you just nod along like you too have to put this much thought into your favorite color. he flips it on you so he doesn’t have to think, “what’s yours?”

“mine is orange... uhm, if given the chance, do you want to rule?”

“not really. i’m too nervous to mess it up,” he answers, honest, always thinking too fast and too much, “i would like to be by your side when you rule your kingdom.”

“ah, good save,” you say. you’d laugh at his bluntness if it wasn’t so cute.

“can i ask you something, your highness?” he asks, and you nod, “if you could… like if you didn’t have a bunch of responsibility on your shoulders to rule the kingdom and everything… would you want to run away?”

“run away?”

“yeah! like elope with someone and get out of town and go somewhere no one knows you exist and live a simple life,” he smiles, this dreamy look in his eyes, “maybe even fall in love.”

“i can definitely tell that’s your dream,” you giggle, “but yeah, that does sound nice.”

he gets silent for just a second, but then his eyes light up, “maybe we could run away together?”

you smile sadly, it’s a sweet dream, but it can't be your reality, “don’t get too ahead of yourself now, gyuvin. i still have a country to take care of, and you might too if something happens to the first-in-line.”

“then, let’s make a dream out of the lives we have,” he says, coming closer to hold your hand.

“you are so cheesy! oh my lord,” you shake your head in disbelief, but his hand in yours is so comforting and he’s so endearing, “okay fine. i’ll consider it.”

“good! and while you do that, i actually have something for you!” he says, reaching into his fancy suit jacket to pull it out.

“a gift?” you guess, unassuming. all suitors probably were expected to get you gifts.

but then he pulls out a dainty white poppy. the center is a soft yellow with a hint of red in the middle. it’s a beautiful flower. it reminds you of the soft dreams he tells you of, the simple wishes for freedom and peace and comfort from all the eyes on you.

you wonder if that’s your dream too, and he read you just like a book.

gyuvin has nothing more than his dashing smile and his lovely dreams, wishing for so much that he’ll never have. as you wish him well, telling him you’ll choose within the coming days who you will marry, you wonder, “tell me, why should i marry you?”

“oh, uhm- i…” he trails off, giving himself time to think, before settling on an answer he feels confident in.

he says, “because i would follow you anywhere.”

and, at least in that moment, looking into his honest eyes, you believe him.

you finish you up conversation with him as someone who recognizes him starts talking to him, and you assume they’re trying to whisk him away from you. you allow it for now. he still smiles brightly and waves at you goodbye.

as gyuvin is stolen from you view, you find someone new in front of you. he’s a little shorter than gyuvin, but he makes up for it with his bright smile and this cute charm he seems to exude.

this is no stranger at all. even if you didn’t know him, you did deep down.

“your highness, hello, it is a pleasure to make the acquaintance,” he bows, “i am the son of a duke in our kingdom. i have been sent here to be a possible suitor for you. my name is matthew.”

it’s very clear just by looking at him that he’s from your kingdom. you’ve never met, but you could swear you’ve seen his face before. he seems like he would be a safe pick for a husband. he’s already from your kingdom and also nobility, but just far enough out to where it isn’t weird. it wouldn’t require alliance brokering or having to rule over new territory and people who didn’t even know you. that would be the nice part.

in short: he’s a safe pick.

“hello, matthew, it is a pleasure to have you here tonight,” you smile at him as he reaches for your hand to place a kiss. a common theme of the night you assume, “what is your father up to these days?”

“nothing interesting to either of us,” he laughs to himself, “just royal duties. i’m surprised he sent me as his contribution. i totally thought he’d want my sister here.”

“ah, well i’m glad you are here. you are quite pleasant to be around, i can already tell,” you say. he takes it as the biggest compliment he’s ever gotten in his life, or at least that’s what it looks like.

“thank you, your highness,” he says after a moment of collecting himself, “do you wish to dance?”

you almost say yes, but you remember the promise you made to hanbin. did you already think of him as the one? why would you put yourself through the rest of this night if hanbin already ticked all the boxes? “not at the moment, but come find me again later and i’ll say yes, okay?”

“hmm, alright. i suppose that’s okay-”

he was talking but was cut off when someone’s elbow hit you from behind. the collision causes you to fall forward towards matthew, and he catches you before you take both you and him down. he holds you up by your waist as your hands reach to grasp onto his shoulders. you look up at him with panic in your eyes, and he has the same frightened look.

and it is only worsened by the fact that everyone saw it.

while everyone in that room was probably death glaring at the poor person who knocked you over, matthew just whispers, “i thought you didn’t want to dance?” his response is cheeky, finally smiling at you once he knows you’re alright. there’s a secret coolness to him that you didn’t know he had in him.

so this is why you waited it out.

he must be incredibly strong to still be holding you like he is after the fall, but the moment can’t last forever, so he pulls you up, “unrelated, but i have something for you," he says.

“is it a flower?” you ask with a daring smile, and he nods.

“your father included an amendment to the invitation for all the suitors. we were to bring you a flower. you’ll probably get more throughout the night, but hopefully, mine sticks out to you the most, your highness,” he hands it to you gently.

the flower is white, just like gyuvin’s, but it is a completely different style. one native to your kingdom.

“a heather flower, consider it a promise. even if you don’t pick me, i’ll have the best interests at heart for you,” he says, handing it off to you like an oath, “you don’t have to choose now, but no matter who it is you pick, i will be here to make sure they are up to your standards.”

“you don’t have to do that, matthew,” you say, but he shakes his head.

“my father has told me all my life that the royal crown is my only priority. i will make sure that whoever gets to call themself your consort will be fit for the role.”

you laugh at his intensity. he’s already so lost in his mind about it. you suppose that devotion to the crown is innately taught to everyone. it’s just weird to hear it out loud, “you say that like i already picked someone else. what if i do choose you?”

“i will absolutely hold myself to the same standard,” he says, like it’s obvious. commonplace. you laugh at how serious he is.

the dancing area may not be the best place to have a conversation, seeing as you’ve already been bumped into a couple times since the first big one.

“your highness,” he says, drawing your attention back to him, “it was nice meeting you. i’ll come back again for that dance you promised me.”

“i look forward to it,” you smile at him as he moves to walk away.

once matthew has left, there's really no one there to protect you from falling when people bump into you. you find yourself needing a moment to breathe, finding comfort in sipping one of the drinks being offered by the staff walking around. you decide to hide in the corner of the room, for lack of a better plan. the center is where all the dancing is happening, but it’s easier to hear yourself think in these more secluded spots.

although, just when you finally have a second to breathe and think through all that’s happened so far, something finds it’s way into your hair, and you freeze as you look up at the culprit. it feels like a flower.

“i’m sorry, your highness,” he says. he’s so beautiful (god, does every suitor in the damn land have to be so gorgeous?) that you could almost forgive him, “i know i should have asked, but that moment was too beautiful to pass up.”

“i don’t even know your name, and you’re already having to apologize? not a strong start, stranger,” you say, but you’re smiling. he knows you’re not really mad, and so do you.

you could have been mad, you could have kicked him out and banished him from the castle for putting a flower in your hair without permission.

but he’s pretty, so you’ll let it slide.

“stranger? i don’t want that as a nickname,” he frowns, “my name is zhang hao. please call me anything other than stranger.”

“an order? wow, how modern of you to order around royalty in their own castle,” you laugh at him, but it’s all in good fun, and you change the topic so he doesn’t get too embarrassed, “it’s quiet over here,” you murmur.

he silently thanks you for switching topics, “yes, indeed. i am not one for lots of noise,” he says, “did you need a break from the chaos too, your highness?”

“i suppose. everyone is so nice, but i am just..” you look down at the two flowers you hold in your hands. one poppy and one heather, “overwhelmed. the choice is a difficult one to make over just a conversation. what if none of it is even real?”

“real? why wouldn’t it be real?” he asks.

“there’s so much political advantage that comes with marrying me, so how would i be able to tell the difference?” you ask in return, “not to mention i’m not even sure i can judge someone’s character in just a few minutes of conversation,” he takes a second to think. maybe there isn’t even a good answer he could give.

you know you have more time. you know this party isn’t everything and you could abandon it all and be fine. god forbid you wanted to meet the one. maybe you even wanted to fall in love, is that so much to ask for?

“well, i can’t speak for anyone else, and there is no way for me to prove it to you, but…” he looks over at you, at the darling flower he had placed in your hair. he wonders how anyone could think to marry you just for prestige or power, “i am real.”

“you are?”

“i am,” he murmurs, “i’m not a lot of things, but i am real.”

you sigh, “i shouldn’t have put this decision on myself. i should have just let my father pick and gone with it,” you rub your temple with your free hand, your head suddenly aching dully, "why did i do this to myself?"

“you wanted to choose because somewhere deep down in there,” he says, pointing to your heart. it's flustering just how close he's getting, “you trust yourself and your judgment.”

you sit there for just a moment to take in his words. you initially thought he was incredibly wrong, but the more you think about it, the less wrong he becomes.

“and why should i trust you?”

he seems taken about, but answers anyway,“i am… not extremely good at the press and public image stuff, but i am quiet. and calm. i cannot be exciting, but i can be soothing,” he smiles so softly, “i can help you forget it all for just a moment.”

he’s convincing, you’ll give him that.

and you can tell he’s genuine. there was no bone in his body capable of lying, “i can care for you. i will be real for you. there will be no act, no fake love to attempt to satisfy some image. you can take care of your kingdom, and i will take care of you.”

“that’s how you’ll love me?”

“that is how i will love you,” he repeats, tucking your fallen hair behind your ear.

“what flower did you put in my hair?”

he looks at it one more time, “a bluebell. it’s native to the land of my kingdom.”

“ah, i see,” you say, seeing the blue petal out of the corner of your eye, “thank you.” he pulls it out of your hair to hand it to you, making it the third flower you’re holding as of now.

“you should go now, your highness. there’s lots more for you to do and people for you to meet.”

and you want to, but it is still so noisy out there, and you feel the nerves in your stomach again as you look back out to the crowd. you ask him, “what if i need a break again from the noise?”

he smiles at you, his voice as soft as ever, “come find me, of course.”

so you leave him there, his eyes following you as you step back out onto the floor, feeling the energy come back to you after you have rested.

you give zhang hao one last look before you look away from him for a while. he seems like the type to never want your eyes off of him.

he’s looking at you too. suddenly it all feels too real.

he smiles at you, waving you off, like a mother bird telling its baby bird to be free, only this time there’s still a nest to return to when you are tired.

you walk back out onto the floor, hoping someone will come to take your hand and ask you for a dance. it doesn’t take long for someone to come hoping to do just that.

“don’t tell me someone beat me to it, your highness,” they say. as you look up, you see familiar eyes and dimples, with a hand outstretched for you to grab.

“hanbin,” you smile at him, taking his hand as he leads you to the area people are dancing in. it is significantly louder, but the energy feels good, the music flowing through your veins, “of course not. i told you it was yours.”

“i’m sorry, but i have another favor to ask you,” he says, grabbing your right hand with his left and holding your waist with his right as you sway to the music, not quite dancing yet. just swaying with him.

“so greedy,” you say with a giggle, “what can i do for you?”

“i know i have already asked for so much by taking this first dance,” he says, eyes almost looking into your soul, “but i want your last dance as well.”

it stuns you for just a moment. that was a taller order than your first dance, “i’m sorry, do you mean of the night? like tonight? or…” you trail off, wondering if there was a way to eloquently word ‘the last dance i do ever in my life’. you never finish the thought.

he doesn’t respond to that thought either, just giving you a smile that almost seems cheeky, “let’s dance.”

and suddenly you are reminded of the fact you are not very blessed in the coordination department, “hanbin- i am so sorry to disappoint you because i’m sure you were thinking this would be a magical moment or something, i forgot to say i am a terrible dancer. maybe we should-”

“shh, don’t worry about anything. i’ll lead, just follow what i do,” he tells you.

the dance is not extremely technical, but even still it is so obvious to both you, him, and everyone watching how skilled of a dancer he is. is this all he’s been doing his entire life?

it’s just a simple, repetitive step, and at one point he twirls you around and pulls you just a little bit closer. even still, you still find yourself being clumsy and tense, even when he whispers to just relax.

it’s over too fast, but he assures you, “i wish we could keep going, too, but you have other people to dance with. i can’t be that demanding. i’ll be back for your last.”

you laugh because he’s kind of right to say he’s been demanding. it’s not like you mind, “i’ll wait for you, hanbin.”

he smiles, so sweetly, “as will i, your majesty.”

and as he walks away, leaving you to watch him smile at someone else and offer to dance with them, you notice the unconventional bouquet you’ve been holding: a poppy for the boy with the wild dreams, a heather for the guy who saved you from falling (even though you might have fallen in a different way), and a bluebell from the one who gave you a brief moment of peace.

yet, from looking at it, it has one more flower in it than you remember it having.

a yellow tulip.

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