#all of the shinee members are married to each other but you get the idea

[smtown-tourist]

Yeah, that about sums up MinKey’s frenemies relationship at this point

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Minho: Glow

In Your Past - Chapter 2

Stray Kids OT8 x reader, Soulmate AU

Living in a world where soulmates are real, and everyone deals with it differently. Prequel to 'Pieces of My Heart'; how each member dealt with their soul marks, and first meetings.

Masterlist | Pieces Of My Heart

Minho never put much value behind the idea of soulmates. Neither of his parents ever had a soulmate, and they were happily married. His aunt had married and then divorced her soulmate after he had cheated on her, and he was forced to watch as his childhood best friend's soulmark went grey one fateful afternoon, their cries filling the classroom as they mourned a soulmate they never got to meet.

As far as Minho was concerned, not having a soulmate was more of a blessing than a curse.

When he turned 18, he found himself waiting for the other shoe to drop. Chan didnt notice his soulmark for almost a full month, so Minho found himself periodically checking in on himself. No strange emotions, tastes, sounds, touches. He would wake up and try to remember his dreams, but they were as nonsensical as most dreams were. He didnt feel too cold or too hot, even as they traveled overseas. And he would definitely notice if he suddenly teleported or woke up in another persons body, so he was free from even rare soulmarks.

And that was okay.

He would tend to his members with home-cooked meals and gentle teasing, he would play with his cats when he was back home, he could feel the love Stay sent them from all around the world, and his parents would often call just to tell him how proud they were. He was happy and he didnt need a soulmate.

He already had everything he could every need. He planned to live a great life with the people he cared about and that was more than enough.

But then the universe had to throw a wrench into his plans.

When the message showed up in the stray kids chat, Seungmin had suddenly stopped in the middle of the store. He stared at his phone long enough that Minho started to grow curious, grabbing his own phone out from his pocket, but Seungmin spoke up before he could even unlock it.

"Jeongin found his soulmate."

Minho blinked. "Ahh."

Minho called Chan as they were in the check out line. His leader answered on the first ring.

"Hey."

"Hey, we're almost finished up here."

"Right. Good." There was a certain tilt to his voice, one that he narrowed his eyes at.

"So, Jeongin found his soulmate?"

"Ah, you heard."

"You put it in the group chat. Of course I heard."

"Hmm. When you get back, bring Seungmin to your room with you. We have a surprise."

"Right."

He hanged up afterwards, not even thinking twice about the surprise. They finished up at the store and made their way back to the hotel in silence.

Seungmin brought it up first, as they were in the elevator. "Do you think they're nice?"

"The soulmate?" Minho asked.

Seungmin gave him a look. "No, the taxi driver."

"Hmm, I think most taxi drivers are nice if you're nice to them first. But thats probably just for the money."

"I hate you."

Minho smirked. "No you dont."

The elevator opened, and Seungmin shuffled down the hall. "I want a divorce."

"I get custody of Felix."

"You wish."

He grabbed Seungmin as the younger man stopped outside his door, dragging him by the collar to the room he shared with Jeongin. The youngest had the room key, so he knocked on the door.

"Open up, Chan."

Seungmin shook off his hand. "Rude."

"Eh, you love it."

Seungmin was probably seconds away from making a sarcastic remark when the door opened up, and both of them paused at the stranger on the other side.

Minho's heart skipped a beat.

The person in front of him was glowing. And not in a cheesy 'they were the most beautiful person he had ever seen' kind of way, but in a 'their body was engulfed with a soft hazy glow' kind of way. It was like someone was shining a light on them from behind.

Minho never put much weight on soulmates before.

"You must be Jeongin's soulmate."

They nodded, and Minho found himself unable to look away. Their eyes, their nervous smile, their hands locked tightly on the door. He met their eyes and he could see the understanding behind them, not a hint of surprise at meeting their supposed soulmate.

When Chan appeared behind them, his hand grabbed their shoulder softly. His leader looked at Jeongin's soulmate with more affection than would be acceptable, and Minho knew something was going on. He stared at the stranger, the person that was destined to be his other half according to the universe, and he wondered if maybe there had been a mistake.

"Lee know."

His eyes darted up to meet Chan's. There was an unspoken message on his face. The same look when he was invited to join Stray Kids all those years ago, and he had doubted his own abilities. The reassurance he had been given.

'Do you trust me?'

Minho blinked slowly. "Hyung."

He gave his soulmate a sharp nod as he passed, dropping his bag into Hyunjin's lap and making himself at home in the armchair. Chan joined him shortly after.

"You have a lot of explaining to do."

"Hmm, I'll tell you the full story later. All you need to know is that Jeongin's soulmate, is our soulmate."

"Oh?"

"All 8 of us." Chan leaned closer, whispering into his ear. "And Seungmin's the only one who doesnt know yet."

That caught his attention. When his, no, their, soulmate turned to look at them, he couldnt stop the smile that pulled at his lips from their wide eyed gaze. It was cute.

Minho didnt need a soulmate.

He didnt want a soulmate.

But somehow, he found himself intrigued. Somebody the universe considered to be perfect not just for him, but for every member? He was curious about what kind of person they would turn out to be.

Suddenly a soulmate didnt seem so bad.

[jaemmphilia]

★ 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 ★ || b.c

★ summary: celebrating a first anniversary as a married couple has to be special. too bad chan was called into work right in the middle of his dinner with his husband, y/n. y/n understands, he really does, but this is their first anniversary for crying out loud. y/n sends chan off with a bitter smile and an idea in his head. chan deserves a night of relaxation for being such a hardworking husband.

★ characters: bang chan, y/n

★ warnings: semi-fluffy, very nasty, chan calls reader a pretty boy, some language but not a lot, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

★ word count: ~1.8K words

★ requested?: yep, thanks a lot anon!

★ binnie's thoughts: this was requested by a lovely anon, and i originally planned to get one of my wips out first, but this request literally plagued my dreams,,, so enjoy!

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so don't take it to heart. just enjoy!

As soon as you heard the door close and the familiar sound of the locks being turned, you quickly began to clean up the remains for your supposedly romantic dinner with a heavy heart. Of course you understand that Chan’s line of work can be demanding, but it is your first anniversary as a married couple. 

The wedding was truly one-of-a -kind. It was small, with your parents attending as well as Chan’s own parents and siblings, and the other members of Stray Kids being present. The remaining seven members argued who was going to be Chan’s best man, each one of them spouting the generous things they have all done for their leader. Chan wrangled his kids and told them they could all be his best men. All of them gave each other pointed looks before agreeing. Sweet little Jeongin didn’t want to be Chan’s best man, he actually wanted to be yours. And what kind of monster would you be if you said no to his sweet smile and shining eyes? 

You and Chan met in high school, with you being a foreign exchange student, there was a heavy language barrier, so you didn’t really have many friends. You often sat alone in the classroom at lunch, until Chan came and pulled a chair up to your desk. When you looked up to see who was sitting by you, your jaw dropped. A mop of curly, dark mahogany hair and round eyes to match greeted you. Chan looked at you with a bright smile, his eyes crinkling and disappearing. You both introduced yourselves and the rest is pretty much history.

 You followed Chan everywhere he went, you stuck by his side through it all. His debut, the hours upon hours of grueling training. You called him every night while he was away on various tours and interviews, you would stay up late with him on the phone while he continued to work, his insomnia getting the best of him. He told you that your snores were like a soothing white noise to him. That statement earned him a slap on the arm. 

You smile to yourself as you wash the dishes. Your husband is so hardworking, always thinking of others before himself, not once complaining about having to do multiple things at once. But you can tell that it's taking a toll on him. He still smiles, but it’s not as bright or as often, and you frown, deciding that your husband needs a night of pure relaxation. 

After finishing with the dishes and cleaning up any other mess you see, you venture into your bedroom. You make your way to the bathroom and run a bath for yourself. You strip out of your comfy clothes and sink into the water, letting out a sigh at the feeling. You quickly trim your growing bush and make sure your skin is nice and soft for your husband. After your bath, you wrap a towel around your damp body and contemplate what to wear. 

Chan is a simple man, he thinks you look good in anything, whether it’s nothing at all or a trash bag. His libido isn’t very high but he can’t resist you, he thinks you’re the sexiest being to ever walk the Earth, and he has no problem telling you so. The two of you are very affectionate, so sex is usually soft and vanilla, but tonight you think it’s time to spice it up just a tad. You dig around in your shared closet and eventually pull out a small plastic bag containing something you bought so long ago. You planned to wear them one day, but the timing was never right, so you ultimately tossed the bag deep in the closet and forgot about it for about two years. 

Pulling the small box out of the plastic bag, you examine it carefully. A pretty black box with red ribbon wrapped around it, the store’s logo plastered on the side of the box. You untie the ribbon and lift the lid off the box. The black fabric blinks back at you, and you carefully grip the fabric in your hands. You carefully take the garments out of the box and you let your towel fall from your body. Taking a seat on the bed, you lift your leg and slide the black thigh-high stockings onto your limb. You like the way the band tightens around your plush thigh, the flesh pillowing around it. You slide on the second one and walk to your vintage full-length mirror. You move your legs in different positions, enjoying the way the stockings look against your skin tone. 

What you fail to notice is the figure standing behind you, leaning against the door frame of your bedroom. Chan’s eyes roam your naked body, his bottom lip between his teeth. Chan clears his throat, chuckling as he watches your frame jump in surprise, a startled gasp falling from your mouth. You quickly cover yourself up as you whip around to look at Chan with warm cheeks. He was supposed to be gone for at least two hours, so what the hell is he doing at home right now?

As if he could read your mind, Chan speaks up, “It was an easy fix, Changbin couldn’t figure out the right melody and Jisung was absolutely no help.”

“Oh, well. Uh, that’s good,” you mutter, quickly becoming more aware of the way Chan is looking at you right now.

“So, what’s this, hm? Is this a part of our anniversary?” Chan takes a step towards you, his eyes not leaving your face for a second. You look like a deer in headlights, eyes blown wide and your lips becoming red from nervous chewing. 

You simply nodded, not really trusting your voice to reply for you. You slowly uncover your lower body, allowing Chan to see the half-hard on you’re sporting. Chan takes a few shorts steps towards you and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard chest. 

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise.”

The next thing you feel is your body being lifted up and dropped onto the bed. You let out a soft yelp of surprise as you watch Chan lift his shirt up and over his head, tossing the item behind him. He grabs both of your legs, running his hands along the soft fabric covering your skin. He spreads the limbs a little as he leans down until he’s face to face with your dick. He places soft kisses to your inner thighs, causing little goose bumps to form across your arms and the back of your neck. 

“My husband is such a pretty boy, wearing these stockings just for me, huh?” Chan says, his warm breath fanning against your dick, causing it to twitch a bit. 

“Mmh, yes, Channie,” you answer, your hands gripping the duvet below you, your teeth toying with your bottom lip as you look at the gorgeous man in between your legs.

“Then I guess I better give this pretty boy a nice reward for doing something so nice for me,” with that, Chan’s tongue comes out and licks a long stripe from your puckered rim all the way to the tip of your dick.

The slurping sounds are loud in your ears as Chan uses his tongue to stretch your hole for him. He hums against your hole as his large hand jerks you off in tandem. You let out whines and little chants of Chan’s name, which only makes him want more. Your body is twitching and a light layer of sweat covers your skin. 

You’re so close to your release and Chan knows. Not wanting the moment to be ruined so quickly, he pulls away from your body. He gives you a smirk as he lifts his body up to remove the remainder of his clothes. Once Chan is as bare as the day he was born, he uses his hand to get himself to full hardness. As you watch him, a lightbulb goes off in your head. 

“Channie, I have an idea,” you call to him softly, your eyes zeroed in on his form. 

“Oh? What’s on your mind, darling?”

“Since I have these pretty stockings on, why don’t you fuck my thighs?” you try to keep your voice as soft and innocent as possible, and you push your plush thighs together for effect. 

Chan lets out the most delicious groan you have ever heard from him. “Darling, you always have the best ideas,” Chan praises you, and he walks towards your body, his hand on your knee.

Chan parts your thighs a bit, slipping his dick in between them. He tips his head back at the feeling, and he closes your thighs around his dick. He gives an experimental thrust, the soft fabric rubbing on his length in the best way. You love seeing your husband like this, blissed out and the usual furrow of his eyebrows long gone. 

Chan picks up the pace, the force of his hips hitting your ass causing your body to bounce up and down. Chan leans over you, capturing your lips with his, his tongue finding its way into your mouth, licking all in your mouth. Chan loves sloppy kisses, something about swapping spit with you makes the man go absolutely crazy. 

It isn’t long before Chan’s hips begin to skip and stutter, a telltale sign that he’s reaching his release. His moans and groans turn into whimpers and whines as he chants your name over and over. His curls are sticking to his head as the heat of your activities fills the room. 

“Can I cum on your pretty stockings, darling? I promise I’ll buy you a new pair, please let me cum on them,” Chan whines in your ear, his thrusts becoming irregular as he chases his release. 

“Yes, gods yes, Channie,” you answer him, your own release coming up fast. You wrap your arms around your husband, your grip on him nice and tight, just how he likes it. 

It isn’t much longer until Chan spills all over your thighs and a little on our stomach. He cries out in pleasure, his head tipped all the way back, his strong neck exposed to you. You finish after him, your own release splashing onto his abs and a bit on his chest. 

The two of you come down from your highs, just reveling in the embrace of one another. You’re both freshly washed, a movie playing on the television in front of you. Chan lets out a content hum. You’re massaging his shoulders and neck, helping the man get the knots out of his muscles. He loves receiving a massage after the two of you share an intimate moment together, and tonight is no different. You would do anything for your hardworking husband. 

[aki-anikk]

I don't think there are any Tw? But if there is something i missed feel free to dm me!

_____________________________________________

He didn't know why he even went there.

Maybe because it felt rude to not come when you were invited, maybe he came for the free food or maybe because his team decided it was a good way to "relax".

Sure. A good idea to relax was to go ans watch one of the soldiers to get married to a beautiful woman. It totally didn't make him feel envious.

It didn't make him jaelous that he wouldn't have anyone to wake up to or anyone to come back to after deployment.

Simon Riley wasn't a picky man. He didn't mind what gender his partner would be, he liked what he liked and he wasn't going to question it.

But no one stole his heart yet, and when they were close to it, he would get scared and push them away. He couldn't face rejection or even worse, handle the loss of another loved one.

So he was alone, alone with his dreams about a happy love life that would never come true.

He sat by one of the tables where in the middle were two small swans made out of paper. They really went all out huh?

There it was again, another pang of jaelousy when he realised that it was probably the best day of their lives.

The man sighed out as he downed another drink, thankfully it wasn't too strong or he would be drunk a long time ago.

Without any warning he was pulled out of his thoughts by the music.

First dance.

Simon turned his gaze towards the middle of the wedding hall and watched the pair get in their places. They both smiled at each other so lovingly, both looked sttuning.

Lucky bastards.

He huffed annoyed at his thoughts and focused on the music, not the best choice in his opinion, but who he was to judge?

With his sharp eyes he saw in the bride's eyes a hint of... displeasure. The music seemed to bother her too, her brow twitching slightly but she still had a bright, beautiful smile. Maybe she decided that she would handle it for her now husband.

The newlyweds took few steps into the dance, but then the music started to crash

He wasn't too proud of it, but a small smirk appeared on Simon's face. At least something wasn't perfect at their wedding. Maybe it was petty, even childish...

But his smirk disappeared immidietly when different music started playing.

Not only that, but the earlier covered scene began to uncover. He didn't even notice it at first as he was too focused on the pair and his dark thoughts.

"You have to be shitting me..."

He grumbled under his breath as his eyes widened slightly. There were few people on the stage that seemed to make a damn dedicated song just for the first dance. He guessed that the groom planned it all with the group, it was pretty obvious from the way he looked at his new wife with a small smirk.

Yet again, he felt a pang of jaelousy, but he couldn't be mad for too long when he saw how happy these two were. Some people just find their soulmate, and some people rot alone in despair.

Simon let out a sigh as he looked back on the table and fiddled with the napkin. The music started to fill the room and after a moment a smooth voice joined. It was the right amount of deep and high notes that were swiftly going from one to another, so natural. It felt as if whoever sang it truly enjoyed it.

After a moment of fighting himself he finally glanced at the stage. And there they were. Looking so calm, like if singing was as easy as breathing, the soft smile that shined on their face when they looked at the young pair. He recognized in them the groom's witness

So that's how he got a dedicated song.

At first he tried to not be bothered by it, why would he care? Many people did weird things on their weddings - keg stands, throwing the groom in the air, throwing cake... and even some family members proposing to their partner on your wedding. Though the last one was surely more controversial than what was happening right now.

This was just another case of it, yet...

His eyes were still on that person.

The dance had ended fairly quickly but people still clapped for the young couple and the group on the stage. The one who he kept his eyes on even bowed playfully with a cheerful smile.

Charming.

The wedding continued in a much more relaxed atmosphere than earlier, the formalities and first dance were behind them already, so now all was left was to celebrate.

The people scattered around the place to talk with others as Simon kept sitting by his table.

"..."

He really needed a damn drink.

After a moment of debate with himself whenever it was appropriate to get another drink at the bar, Simon finally stood up and walked to the place

The catering runned around refiling the glasses and serving plates, they really looked just like ants at work.

But of course there were no left for him.

He cursed under his nose and already took a step to go back to the table, hoping that no one saw his little unsuccesful trip. But before he could walk away he heard that one characteristic voice.

He looked into that direction and again saw the groom's witness who was swarmed by some guests. It were all kinds of people, some praising the performance and others not so disecretly asking about how much they were getting paid for that.

You really had that charm huh?

Your one step, to whatever your destination was, would cause two people to come.

He wondered if you even liked the attention.

He saw your eyes look around and have that hint of disappointment when there were no drinks around. That throat was probably hoarse from all the singing and talking.

It was a bit impressive how you didn't just walk away or even frown when some young couple asked you to sing on their wedding too, probably not evening knowing you. At least that's what Simon assumed.

It seemed that fate wanted him to help you out, as the server walked next to Simon and offered a drink.

With a second of thought he grabbed two of those, ignoring the confused look he got from the server. She probably saw how he spent most of the celebration alone.

Maybe it would change in a moment.

After a moment of gathering courage he finally went up to the person who took his interest. When even was the last time he tried to talk to someone like that? He had to be much braver as a teenager.

With few big strides, that were good at faking confidence, he finally was next to you. And... he didn't think about the next step.

He watched how the couple keep talking to you and after a moment they looked at Simon a bit confused and annoyed. You also looked at him but rather a bit curious.

After All you hadn't yet have a man like that to come up to you and complement your performance, you also didn't see anyone with him so he shouldn't also ask to perform on his future wedding, right?

Simon stood there for a moment in silence, not really looking at anyone. His eyes firmly focused at two drinks in his hands as he thought about what to do. Was it too late to just leave? No. He couldn't. He made the first step and he would make the second one.

He finally looked up and saw your small confused smile, somehow gave him more courage.

"The groom asked to give you a drink, you will sound like a hoarse cat tomorrow if you don't drink it."

Shit.

How could he fuck this up already?

It wasn't even a good lie.

Those years in the military really stripped away any soft words from his dictionary. All he did lately was reprimanding recruits and now it came back to bite his ass.

The couple looked rather dumbfounded and you looked rather sttuned. After All who would expect that in such a day?

What he didn't know was that you could see how the unknown man pressed his eyeslids together, rather firmly. As if he was scolding himself. And how could you not be a bit amused by that?

Even if the first sentence was rather suprising, you decided to go with it rather than against it.

"Maybe I do need it, I feel kinda rough already."

You said with a small smile as you took the glass from the man who seemed a bit suprised that it actually worked. But he quickly returned to his calmer expression.

Didn't want to mess up again.

The couple spoke to you for a moment longer and Simon just kept standing next to you for some reason. His silent presence finally made them akward enough to leave and join the others, leaving you two alone.

Your amusment fading into a small atmosphere of akwardness at the silence, your fingers tapping the glass before you finally looked at him again.

"Enjoying the night?"

He looked at you again a bit suprised but cleared his throat and gave a nod. His glass already almost empty.

You didn't need to know that he tried to calm his nerves.

He kept looking infront himself, almost ignoring you. But he still stood firmly next to you for some reason.

For a moment you thought about leaving, maybe it wasn't the best idea to drink from a glass that was given by a stranger.

"Liked your show."

He huffed, almost as if offended at his own words. But they didn't sound like a lie.

You waited for him to continue, Ask about whenever he wanted you for some show or any other occasion like other guests did. But the questions never came.

He just stood there in silence, his foot shifting slightly, just to do something.

"..."

"Thanks."

You said simply, it didn't feel like not enough. The Man spoke rather bluntly and... It was quite new in a place where everyone danced on the floor and swiftly danced around the truth.

Somehow you two started to talk, even if at first it seemed that you two had nothing in common.

The most normal conversation, nothing too serious. Some simple sentences, asking about the groom and the bride, about the food, about decorations.

Nothing too serious. But... It felt comfortable.

After few drinks you somehow convinced him to come on the dance floor. You didn't push him in the middle of it or into any fast song. No. You wanted him to have fun too and not to make fun of him.

You got to the corner of it and slowly danced together, few swirls, few steps, few accidental bumps into each other that ended in an akward but yet also amused chuckle.

You didn't know why but your heart was beating a bit faster when you saw those slightly crinkled eyes. Your head bumpting into his shoulder with a small laugh. With a bit of hesitation he finally rested his head on top of yours. How could he not do it when this sweet sound of laughter left your lips?

The laugh and smile that were just for him right now.

And maybe many more would come his way in the future.

You didn't expect to find anything but your favourite food at the wedding and few praises, but maybe... just maybe you might have found yourself your new favourite man.

[heliosthegriffin]

Some Crack

AN: I haven’t wrote any crack in a while.

“Well fuuuuuck, you too!” Jaune yells into his scroll, as he storms around the room knocking down anything on the shelves.

Nora and Pyrrha hide under the bed holding each other, while Ren is on-top of the bed in a pillow fort.

“Pssst~, Pyrrha!” Nora yells into Pyrrha’s elbow.

“Yes?” Pyrrha asks, with her head on top of Nora, petting the smaller red-head.

“What’s Jaune mad about?”

Crash!

A book shelf topples over, spilling out Nora’s collection of syrups.

“You harpy-ious whore!” Jaune kicks the bookshelf out of his way. The words, dick and fox and cream cheese come out of the phone, but and not necessary in that order, Jaune screams back into the scroll. “I will rip out your trachea and rub sandpaper through it, bitch!”

Pyrrha shivers. “I don’t know, but I find it kinda hot!”

Nora’s head looks down at her now wet legs. “I kinda noticed.” She taps the top of the bed. “Ren?”

“Who disturbs the Wizard of the Cloud-Pillow Fortress?” Ren answers, as a piece of the bed slides back, showing Ren’s eyes.

“Nora. Me. I disturb you.”

A boot goes flying through the wall.

Followed by a wall flying through the wall.

Replacing the back wall with the front wall, leaving a open entrance into the hallway, where everybody could see what was going on. If they were going through the hallway, which Dr. Oobleck was, who merely looked on in horror before running away.

“And we both knew that I was faking it!” Jaune bellowed into his scroll, with the sounds of sobbing coming out of it. “Say it again! I double dragon dare you to say that about by cinnamon apple muffins! ... How dare you!” Jaune eyes start to water.

“Ren, who’s Jaune talking too?”

“I dunno.”

Blake peeps through the opening too.

Much to Ren’s surprise.

“How long have you been in here? Wait how did you get in here?”

Blake looks at Ren with maximum dilated pupils. “If I fitz, I sitz.”

“If we fitz we sitz!” Chimes in several other cat Faunus, including Sienna, Neon, and Kali, who almost now were inside the pillow fort.

“Ahh!” Ren yelps and hides under the bed with Nora and Pyrrha. “Why is it so wet down here?”

Jaune kicks open team RWBY’s door, storming in and knocking over the bunk beds and anything on the walls. “Why are you like this! We could have shined like diamond and twinkies together! But, NNOOOOOOO! You had to be a smelly pirate mobster!

Blake slaps a sign on the pillow fort reading, ‘Kitty Faunus only!’ Sun, Adam, and Ghira look disappointedly at before wandering off to go get drunk together.

Ren begins mobbing under the bed, with Pyrrha and Nora hiding on Jaune’s bed now, surprised to find the remaining members of team RWBY hiding there already, with Cinder’s team hiding underneath.

Nora looks disappointingly. “Dang it.”

Ruby looks smugly at them, holding a Jaune dakimakura. “You snooze you loose. Anyway, why’s Jaune so mad?”

Jaune had wandered into the courtyard, and flipped a station wagon that was parked next to the fountain.

Peter Port looks at his wrecked car, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

Weiss blushes. “It’s kinda hot, though.”

Pyrrha opens her mouth to agree, but Nora covers it with her hand. “We know, anyway, no idea.”

Jaune walks up the side of Ozpins tower, the Wizard standing protectively in-front of his coffee maker.

“I want my son back, Jennifer! I will win the custody battle, you mad-woman!”

A look of understanding hits the assembled hunters and villains.

“Wait, he has a son!?” Ruby says with shock.

“He was married!?“ Pyrrha asks.

“So, that means he’s single, right?” Cinder realizes smugly.

Everyone looks at her, disappointingly.

“What, not like the rest of you weren’t thinking it!”

Then they all look away whistling, innocently.

“And, I’ve finally cleaned up that stain.” Ren nods to himself.

Jaune walks back in. “Guys, can I ask you one of you act as witness of my moral character in court?”

They look around the batter, broken, and beaten room, like a hurricane had gone through it.

Sun, Adam, and Ghira reappear. “We will do it!”

And so the four of them left, as brothers!

[adultswim2021]

Metalocalypse #27: “Dethwedding” | April 1, 2008 - 1:15AM | S02E07

Hey it’s been a little while since we got to watch Metalocalypse. In this one, Pickles brother Seth invites Dethklok to his wedding, which already advertises the fact that the wedding “features” Dethklok. His video invitation is hilarious. Seth is dressed in his Sunday best set against serene backdrops while he brags about his sobriety. Pickles is mortified to the point of despondency. The other band members just think it’s very, very funny. 

The tribunal explains what American weddings are during one of their meetings. These scenes can be a pointless reminder that there is such a thing as the tribunal, and it also lends a false sense of gravity to the plot of each episode. It also serves what might be an accidental function of supplying future-proof context; let’s say there comes a day when the once-standard American wedding becomes an obsolete curiosity.

Or, let’s say this episode is being shown to a species of aliens who have no idea what a wedding is. You know the type of aliens I’m talking about: the kind that mock our god, oppressively holding up the Holy Bible and remarking “HUMAN PROPAGANDA”.* Just by satirically describing what a wedding is brings all those weirdos up to speed, even though it seems gratuitous. The tribunal actually declare that they will not intervene. Why would they? Dethklok’s just going to a wedding, for fuck’s sake. 

*I am actually making a very specific reference to a circa-early-2000s episode of The Outer Limits, where a robot does this. I don’t know the title of the episode, but Heather Graham is in it. 

Things are tense between Pickles and his brother. Seth immediately starts drinking again. He has scumbag friends who suck. Seth constantly asks for money. Dethklok perform a song with a little music video accompaniment (for us watching on television at least) featuring a married couple decaying and then eventually mutating into one another, getting all Cronenbergy. Dethklock get Seth a blender, which is just an item on his wedding gift registry. When Seth chews out Pickles for cheaping out, Pickles beats his brother up. Later, he feels bad, so he installs Seth as the head of Dethklok Australia, whose leader was recently assassinated by the Revengencers. Over the closing credits we see Seth thriving in his new position at the absolute expense of Sydney, Australia, which is practically in ruins while he surveys his land, doing a big smile like a tyrant would. 

This one is very good. Metalocalypse’s misanthropic sense of humor really shines. The show will often show spectacular examples of gore and mayhem, but nothing is treated with grim incapability like family is...treated. With. Fuck. You know what the whole not ending your sentence with a preposition thing is lame and bad. It’s not that I’m bad at writing. I’m taking a stand.

The show has been taken down from HBOMax since the last time I watched it. It’s currently streaming on Adult Swim. At a glance it seems like it’s streaming in its entirety. It may or may not require a cable log-in. Actually, I’ll check in a private browser. Hang on. Okay. I did it. It played! It’s also on DVD, which is nice, but my copy’s digipak has shattered disc hubs so the discs are not fully secure in the box. Not good. Is there a way to fix this? Wait. Let me google it myself. Okay. Huh. I found something called “adhesive-backed spider DVD/CD disc hubs” that literally might be the exact thing I’m looking for. Wow. Well, you learn something extremely important like that every day, don’t you?

EPHEMERA CORNER

Robert Zunes In (2007)*

Remember when I was asking about the Robert Osbourne host intros? I’m guessing these are what that wiki was talking about! Either whoever wrote that got confused (these were taken from a ZUNE that Adult Swim gave away I guess with select episodes of select shows loaded onto them), or they repurposed some of those intros for the April Fools stunt. Neat! Thank you Kon for finding this and showing me them. Thank you.

*JOKE STOLEN FROM LONDON ARBUCKLE BECAUSE I DIDN’T HAVE ENOUGH TIME TO ASK IF I COULD USE IT

[ereiniel]

First of all, your titles all sound gorgeous! “Your Pain, Seared on My Heart” and “The Convergence of Sea and Sky,” perhaps?

OH BOY.  I’m so sorry it took so long for me to answer this, because I had to go back into my notes and sort through everything to figure out what exactly I was thinking all those months ago with those two fics.  The files are pretty sizable, and I had to make sense of a lot of what I’d written there before I could give you a proper answer.  I started writing these concept treatments when I first started writing for the fandom last year and had all sorts of ideas just thrown in there, some of which were good, some of which I look back on and am like, “what the hell is this?”  I haven’t looked at them in months, ever since I dropped everything to work on my current active WIP.

These fics have gone through a few different iterations, and when I first received your ask, I thought both titles were still part of the same Lawrusso fic series, but it turns out I separated Your Pain, Seared on My Heart from A Prize Beyond and The Convergence of Sea and Sky at some point.  Clearly, this is still very much a work in progress, and between now and the time I write it, it may change yet again, but this is how it stands right now:

The Convergence of Sea and Sky was the first longfic concept I started working on last year, inspired by some of my All-Valley 100 ‘Brick Wall’ entries.  It’s a Lawrusso KK3 AU where Johnny and Daniel are already together, and they work together to bring down Terry and Kreese and Cobra Kai.  Terry is a really nasty piece of work in this one, and Johnny knows Mike from All-State (he came in first, Mike second, in 1983-84), so he knows how dangerous Mike can be.  Daniel training with Terry puts a real strain on his and Johnny’s relationship, not least because Johnny knows what’s going on from the injuries Daniel comes home with (since they’re a lot like the ones he himself used to get from Kreese), but Daniel is trapped by Terry and can’t leave without causing even more trouble for everyone.  Some character details, like Johnny being a sports medicine major, ended up in my current fic, which I may or may not keep for this one as well.  My concept notes are a lot angstier and so much darker than I remembered 😬 but at least I have an idea for a happy ending planned for them. 

--

Your Pain, Seared on My Heart is a KK1 Lawrusso soulmate concept AU, in which Daniel and Lucille move to LA because of Lucille’s new job with the in-house IT department at Dynatox.  It starts in Newark, where we get to see Daniel and Lucille’s life before they move, with Daniel’s grandparents and extended family and friends (and Judy!), as well as seeing Lucille finally get her computer science degree that she put on hold when she met and married David. 

As part of the perks for working for Terry Silver, they’ve received a company house in Encino Hills, a fancy company car, and the use of Terry’s personal facilities (pool, hot tub, sauna, tennis court, private dojo, etc.) whenever they want.  As expected, Terry takes a shine to Daniel right away when they first meet, and makes arrangements for him to join Cobra Kai to ensure he has friends in LA.  Terry is very much involved in Cobra Kai and teaches alongside Kreese, though not as often as he’d like due to his other business commitments.

Daniel is introduced to Johnny and the Cobras as a new member of their karate class; due to his limited karate background, Terry gives him ‘extra private lessons’ outside of class to ‘catch him up’ to everyone else.  Little does Daniel know that Kreese is doing the same sort of ‘extra lessons’ arrangement for Johnny, and when they find out about what’s happening to the other and how they’ve both been trapped, they help each other through it and, through that, develop a deeper and closer relationship.  They immediately feel a deep connection to the other when they first meet, and as their relationship develops, can feel the pain the other is feeling when they’re dealing with Kreese and Terry.  It’s their connection and combined strength that give them the courage to fight back.

Mr. Miyagi is a groundskeeper/maintenance employee at Dynatox, and his duties include maintaining Terry’s house, the company homes, and the dojo space.  It’s how he gets to know Daniel, and how he finds Daniel and Johnny in the dojo on several occasions after they’ve been hurt by their teachers, and he takes care of them and helps them and their friends get away from Cobra Kai.

This is the WIP that most resembles a proper fic concept, and the one I was seriously working on and getting ready to write when Rain That Tastes Like Wine popped into my head and I had to set this one aside.  I had to put these fics on hold because Terry is a creepy, nasty piece of work in both and very different from the Terry I am currently writing, and I didn’t want to confuse the characterizations and write them incorrectly.  This is the fic I think I’m most looking forward to writing after I’m done with my current one, so thank you for bringing it back to the forefront of my consciousness.  I’m just trying to focus on one fic at a time right now!

Thank you so much for the asks, and I love that you love my story titles! 💖💖💖

[ronni-right]

time to shine ‘thursday’

This tag game was created in hopes of reaching at least a few people and creating more awareness for the creator-side of tumblr. Time to Shine Thursday is inspired by these posts and meant to be for all artists alike: writers, editors, poets, GIF makers, cartoonists etc. This is me giving you all an excuse to show off!

Only rule: Be as thirsty for attention as you want to be! Link your old fics/art pieces or anything that didn’t get enough attention, or link a work you loved to create or share a draft from your newest WIP. Or do all of these. Be greedy. Show your art. Crave attention. Be proud. And don’t forget to give your friends an excuse to show off theirs!

Additional note: Please consider dropping one of your favourite hidden gems by another author along with your own work so others can enjoy it as well and so that it doesn’t stay buried any longer!

I was tagged by @juuuunaaaaoooo .Thank you very much 😊

The González

It’s May 1865. The war is over and it’s time for the North celebrate the Victory over the South.

Rio González, the yongest General in the North army, returns home to his grandmother and young siblings. And the government presents him Elizabeth Marks, daughter of the dead Southern General. Beth is a present for him, trophy wife for his merits during the War.

Will they find happiness with each other?

Wild Hearts

AU where Rio is a boxing star and Beth is a manager at the gym.

Certain Things

Daemon is a forward for the UK Royal Dragons football team. Rhaenyra is a member of the girl group the Fire and Sugar. Daemon and Rhaenyra aren't related, they never met, but public ship them because they have the same last name and both are hot. So one day they meet at a party and the rest is the history.

Daemyra Fic Ideas in three parts:

1, 2, 3.

Daemon × Rhaenyra [Young Gods]

Rhaenyra asks Daemon to prove his worth in order him to marry her. And Daemon wins a war in her honor, returning as the King of the Narrow Sea.

[pennedbylisse]

THE DANCER & THE FIGHTER

summary: opposites attract - a law so pervasive that even subatomic particles abide by it. what made you think this story would be an exception to the rule?

dancer falls for the street fighter, or is it the fighter who first falls for the ballerina? neither knows once they get tangled up, because somehow it feels as though they've been falling for each other, for eternity, through past and future lives, fated to meet. two stars, one constellation, a united fate.

other stuff: lots of red symbolism (passion, violence, rawness, sacrifice). contrast between bruteness and fragility. jeongguk (almost) always has a torn brow or lip :( riddled with star-lore that if you get we might as well get married in june. like so much star-lore (if it's not already obvious) because I am nothing if not obsessed with the concept.

basically, my humble attempt at web-weaving all my hyperfixations and wrapping the product with a pretty jeongguk-shaped bow :))

genuine request that if you read and liked you heart or reblog. not only does it push my silly lil fic out for more people to read and have the chance of liking?? but it also lets me know what content engages most readers. thanks!!

warnings: unedited, verbose descriptions on occasion, author is not a ballerina so there might be some inconsistencies (call me out on it, plz!), still being added to and ongoing; I do have an idea of what the ending will be like

available on AO3 at pennedbylisse

current wc: ??

My Betelgeuse, brightest beacon splintering a sea of dark nights. I needed you to shine, even if it consumed you. I was no less of an exploiter than the same tyrant, Orion, which we antagonized and dreamed of escaping.

I loved you with urgency, famine and desperation. Yes, I loved you selfishly, but I never did love anyone else in the likeness.

You are the one. My one. My shadow and reflection. My Wonderwall.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　

ORION FIGHT CLUB september still don't know my name ♬

Elailah has a single addiction.

It is not the one-too-many cups of bitter, amber liquid in the evenings. Not the kind to be inhaled between lips from a thin, white cylinder. Not the white powder she catches her dance company members seeking aid in, and later feigns oblivion towards. Not the injectable or otherwise consumable kind.

It is rather abstract in the way it consumes her instead; an insatiable greed, she has come to know it as. Not for wealth, as she lives a comfortable enough life with parents that sponsor her (so long as she complies with what they choose for her to do, of course, but I'll get into that later).

It is avarice for possibility. For what potentially lies across the fence, dug beneath picture-perfect green grass. It's the chase for what's not yet known, not yet had. The coulds:

I could ascend to prima ballerina, if only I just practice enough.

I could make him love me, if only I make myself pretty enough, make myself soft-spoken enough. If only I'm agreeable enough, they'll stay.

This is all a somewhat lengthy way of explaining why she finds herself at an illegal fight club this night. She'd thought, once again, "I could..." win his attention, if only I pretended to share his interests.

Perhaps it wouldn't have to be pretend, she'd thought on their commute. Perhaps she'd grow appreciative of the change of scenery.

Once more, her narrow-minded pursuit of perfection has led her astray.

A bolus sensation makes itself prominent at the column of her throat. Bobs up and down with each peck the rooster takes of its comparatively smaller opponent in the cage center stage.

She quarrels with the inhumanity of the scene, and the irony that it is the humans that are lacking it, not the animals squawking and fluttering, only fighting for a chance at survival.

The smaller of the two roosters, with its white feathers now crimson, stumbles, sways on clumsy footing. The crowd erupts into cheers, green dollar bills being raised in the air.

In the uprise, she's tossed, and her hold of his tough hand slips.

A follower, he hoists his bet, sings victory.

I could fix him, she defaults. I could soften him. When, really, all she's sure of in that moment is that she'll break down into tears, or hurl her dinner, or somehow both, if she stays a minute longer.

She excuses herself to use the restroom.

He doesn't notice. It could be that in the overwhelm, she voiced it barely above a mutter, but it is more likely he doesn't even care. Finds her all the boring and dull, however pretty.

Hostile banging shudders the bathroom door.

Elailah grips the sink, threatening to sway after a bout of hurling. She wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. Opens the tap, splashes some cold water onto her cheeks.

Swinging the door open, a lady threatens to stumble in. Visibly drunk off her mind, the lady mutters a derogatory mark as she brushes shoulders with Elailah in the exchange.

Elailah decides she's had enough of this side of town for tonight, and, possibly, for life. Walking down a crammed hall, she turns for the make-shift lobby of the establishment.

There's a figure hunched to one side on one of the benches flushed against the dim walls.

Another drunkard, she thinks.

But as she approaches the exit adjacent to him, she attempts to study him further, feigns discreetness in her swift side glances.

He's young. Couldn't be more than five years older than her, she estimates. (meh)

He's spitting blood onto the ground beside the bench. A small glistening puddle. Clutching the side of his ribcage as if it hurts to breath.

She thinks of Ian, her older brother. Tries to imagine how a paramedic would approach. What measure of assistance can be offered without too far compromising one's own safety.

Her voice isn't as comforting and practiced as Ian's, but she tries. "Hey..." Approaching him, her voice quivers "you ok?" Winces at the words that leave her gaping mouth. Clearly he is not ok. What she really means to say is "Could I help in some way?"

He merely coughs up a gargle as response.

What she settles for is retrieving a fresh sanitary pad from her bag. The last resort after violently rummaging through the bag's contents. Tears the packaging, unfolds it and hands it over.

"It's clean," she reassures, waving it slightly in front of his gaze. "I promise." It is only now she realizes his brow is in a disheveled state of crusted blood.

"There's no need-"

"I insist."

He collects it in his quivering hand.

Adrenaline, Elailah thinks. Then wants to ask "Who did this to you?" but restrains herself from meddling in stranger's business.

"Thanks," he clears his throat. It triggers a coughing fit which his crinkling face lets show he quickly regrets.

"I can contact the emergency services," she offers, reaching for her phone. "They can catch whoever did this to y-"

He holds one of his quivering hands in the air. "Don't"

There's bruising around his knuckles; all shades of red, young and old.

"Are you one of the fighters?" Her eyes widen, raking him, finding new wounds and the whisper of former ones across his skin. Questions bubble towards the tip of her tongue but instead she awaits his response.

"Something like that..."

Judging from how this side of town treats its residents, she's not far from danger. Ultimately, she might still need to call the emergency services, if not her brother. Nervously, she glances down at her phone in her grip.

Just as soon as it illuminates, it blackens. The silhouette of a hollow battery blinks in place of her usual (quote) wallpaper and she remembers how's shed been asking her date for a charger just before the roosters were brought out and the crowd erupted.

Swallowing her doubt, her face contorts with pity and helplessness as she says "I hate to ask...given yo-your condition..." she lets her gaze fall to the ground. "Would you be so kind to lend me your phone for only a moment? It's only a quick call to my brother. Turns out my phone died and I'm not entirely familiar with this part of the city. Not even partially familiar, actually."

She fidgets with her bag, awaiting a response. Watching to see if he'll retrieve it from his pocket.

He doesn't. Merely remains pressing the pad against his brow.

"I don't have one. Sorry."

"Oh," she smiles, though disappointment sinks in her chest. It occurs to her that he could be lying, out of spite, or weariness towards a stranger. "That's alright," she lies, but her light, airy tone doesn't let it be known.

Her steps start retreating on their own accord. "Thanks anyways. Hope you heal quick...and that the other guy is in worse condition- actually, no, I don't. I hope he's ok." She grimaces.

The bloody side of his lip starts to curl just the slightest despite the sting. She's cute, he thinks.

"Wait...where do you live?"

Silence.

"Relax..." he chuckles. "I only want to repay your kindness."

"Considered it paid."

"I'm not as bad as I look."

"You want me to take your word for it? Trust a stranger?"

"No. Just give me the benefit of the doubt until I do something undeserving."

"I would, if I clearly wasn't the one disadvantaged." She gawks at his build as he rises slowly and painfully. He could squash her out like a measly fruit fly.

"I can walk you home. It's not safe out there, this late. Besides, I could really use some fresh air, get out of here for a while. You'd be doing me a favor."

"East," she generalizes, hoping only to be led in the right direction. She could walk the rest.

"East?" he arches the intact brow, silver piercings glistening in the low lights. For a moment, Elailah thinks that perhaps he had been trying to pierce his other brow when it went awfully awry.

"Yeah, East..." she grips the handle of her bag firmly. "Around Sutton and Matlock," she mumbles, looking over her shoulder at the entrance doors that swing open with the arrival of other bidders.

Rich quarters, Jeongguk thinks and scans his gaze down her frame for the second time that night. Part of him envies her instantly. A smaller but nonetheless related part of him wants her to figure it out for herself, to struggle like the rest of the world.

Concealing his preconceptions, he nods, dark locks falling forward.

-

The cobblestone is glistening with moisture from a recent shower, such that Elailah has to measure her strides to save herself the embarrassment of slipping and falling all too ungracefully.

"What brings a Sutton and Matlock girl to this side of town?" He digs his hands in the pockets of his coat, partly to fiddle with the hole tearing the seam of the right one, and just as much to save them from the chill of impending winter.

Eilailah continues to watch her steps as she responds "Detrimental habits."

"What? Like gambling? Did you bid on me?" He smirks, curious to know.

She shakes her head. Shivers a little, tensing her shoulder up against her neck, as breeze blows in through the alley they are currently crossing. "I actually only saw the rooster match. I assume you were before it."

He frowns, slightly disappointed with the revelation she'd not witnessed his victory. It had been a well earned and bloody one. He'd actually bid on himself and would collect his earn the following day whilst speaking to ***.

"If it's not gambling, then..."

"Only seeing something that wasn't ever there." She doesn't elaborate, which leaves a curiosity searing his mind the rest of the quiet walk.

"So..." she strikes up conversation after the awkward falling into cadence. Glances up at the night sky instead of turning to face him. Tries to make out constellations she's studied during her delving into Greek mythology but the light pollution obscures the brightest silhouettes from this street. "What got you into fighting?"

He cranes his neck, stretching an imperceivable knot. "Father."

At the lack of elaboration, she inquires further, "He used to fight?" Thinks of it as mindless chatter to fill the crater of silence between their strides. Doesn't realize, yet, she's scratching up against an inflamed nerve.

Perhaps the topic of parents, altogether, should be held like religion or politics over dinner conversation. An societal standard she'd uphold if only her parents were the least bit imperfect.

At this assumption, he chuckles dryly. Shakes his head. "He's no professional. Can throw a sharp hook, though."

"He used to train then. 'Those who can't, teach' as they say."

Whilst she's enjoying the puzzle of a guessing game, he cuts to the point quite bluntly. "He sold me to the club in exchange for cash."

"Oh..." At a loss for words, she can't help but redundantly say "Oh..." through every layer of comprehension she crosses. "I'm sorry..."

"Why? It's not your fault."

"I did press the topic. You could have warned me."

"I actually don't get to talk about it. It's nice to let it out, in more ways than fists."

"Can't you just leave?"

Shakes head. "Tried. Twice. Failed. Twice."

"How?"

"I'm property. A product on the market. Each fight night, profit's made on me, that I don't event get a percentage of. The owner's not much for loss on investments."

"Are you chipped or something?"

"Might as well be. He can find me anywhere." He rubs his bicep in what can only be taken as a subconscious soothing practice.

"That's...that's fucked up." She stares vacantly at the cross streets ahead. Having acquired a new-found appreciation for her life, however mundane and unexciting.

-

When he drops her off at her block, she insists on walking the rest of the way by herself. He doesn’t object, understands her guards would be up with a stranger. She’s wearing space buns tied with soft pink ribbons that drape over her shoulders. the blow in the night breeze. She hadn't realized one had been loosening on the walk. 

The ribbon descends, billows onto the concrete. Jeongguk bends to retrieve it, when he bends back up to holler for her attention, she’s gone. He keeps it as memory of a stranger that had shown him greater kindness than his blood; wraps it around his wrist like a bracelet, to hold onto the good in the world, secretly hoping to return it one day, though he doubts she’ll stop by the fighting grounds given how pale and drained she had seemed at their first meet.

elailah doesn't sleep a wink that night. in her silk pajama set, and soft duvets, she can't help but feel disgusted, nauseated.

࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

WONDER WALL THEATRE september

As far as can be recalled, Jeongguk has been regularly ailed by a disturbance in the rhythm of sleep-wake. In his scenario, the scale lies skewed almost entirely towards wake.

On nights he thinks long and hard about it, he suspects the disturbance likely originated some time around his father's descent into alcoholism. The thunderous thuds of steps on the creaking floor, accompanied by heated arguments between his parents would startle him awake. He'd stare at the dark ceiling of his childhood bedroom as if it were a puzzle in need of urgent resolve. A puzzle in which he was key. If only he could figure out what he'd done wrong, then perhaps his father would start acting like himself again; his mother would no longer cry religiously.

With a strangled breath, and tense limbs under dinosaur sheets, he'd tune-in on what was being said, fearful it would escalate. In fact, he'd often imagine scenarios where he'd have no choice but to run out of the safe seclude of his quiet room, into the kitchen - the source of his mother's agonizing screams - to find her caught in his father's brute grip. By that time, he was uniquely aware of just how rough his father's hands could be.

Though his body was tiny and frail then, the rage and adrenaline in his veins could have easily convinced him capable of toppling the mightiest Goliaths. Even if this particular Goliath had his father's face and voice.

Now, considerably less tiny, only a few hours from turning of legal age, he made sure to absolve the occasions in which he'd be home at the same time as his father. The tables had shifted away from genuine concern for his family's welfare, to the selfish instinct of self-preservation.

He wonders aimlessly through night-cast streets of his town, until his legs throb with exhaustion, but even that pain is preferable to that which is brought on by a beating from someone who's meant to keep you safe.

At first, he'd only stroll through isles at a grocery store. Study each nutritional label on the packages, to kill time, and boredom. When that didn't suffice, he'd eavesdrop on the conversation of other customers, families - actual ones, of bond and not just blood. Wondered how it felt to be them.

Since then, he's graduated to his very own hideout: a dilapidated cinema theatre - the closest thing to his own place so far in his early life.

At its prime, somewhere around the era of the ***s, it was coveted as the town's few sources of entertainment. Ever since the internet, more and more people find little use for places like it. With everything at the reach of a thumb over a cellphone screen, films have stopped debuting in velvet theatres, rendering places like this obsolete.

Still, it remains afoot, its stained and worn facade camoflaging with the rest of the historic street. The only reason it hasn't been demolished yet is the mayor's fixation in preserving history.

In a practiced motion, Jeongguk raises a wooden panel next to a "FOR RENT" sign and swoops into the cavity. Lets it fall behind him with a thud.

At the foot of the entrance, he gropes the pitch-black darkness for a familiar paper box. It makes a white, static-like noise when he grabs it and shakes it in his hand for confirmation.

He strikes one of its matches against its textured side and the darkness retreats around the amber flame.

There's a wax candle stick waiting to be lit by his scruffy sneakers. It's wick is misshapenly curled and tarred from previous lightings. It sparks when the flame is brought near it, borrowing its luminance.

Jeongguk shakes the match in his hand until the flame extinguishes. Flings the stick haphazardly across the dim room where it echoes. He rummages his pockets for his cigarettes and lights one with the flame on the candle.

Inhaling the warm smoke and with the wax candle dripping onto and from its make-shift holder (a glass soda bottle) he ascends a flight of curving stairs. Follows the fire exit passage to the roof.

He walks to the edge, leans over the cement to peer down at the sleeping street. No pedestrians this late into night, and barely any cars whirring pass on their ways home.

Unsurprisingly, nothing's changed since yesterday night; there's still a closed sign on the door of the bakery, that only opens weekends, across the street, and next to that, the 24/7 convenience store is reliably warmly lit, the emo cashier bored, scrolling on their phone. The one damaged streetlight still flickers, though he'd placed a bet against himself that it would fuse out by the start of the month. Somehow, he owes himself for that; hasn't decided what yet. Probably wont amount to anything.

The town has steered away from the abandoned theatre, a dark cloud of folklore looming over the building. Or dark threads of folklore covering the lot, like dusty cobwebs.

Entertaining the rumors, Jeongguk has, on two distinct occasions, attempted to summon the spirits of the departed. The first instance: craving companionship; that other time: seeking answers to an existential conundrum he'd stumbled upon through the late night pondering he often entertained himself with in place of dreams.

This night, he's not in search of ghosts or answers to impossible question. He is merely seeking out the quiet of a sleeping town as background noise for a volatile mind.

While he consciously inhales a pair of deep breaths, attempting to ground himself in the moment, he mindlessly weaves and unweaves the ribbon from the girl around his wrist and fingers.

He's lost in the maze of his mind, thrashing amidst the competing voices. His thoughts are deeper and more abstract than people give him credit. They see a scruffy street thug, and nothing more. He's awful at voicing it, if anyone dares to ask; it comes at him as images, reels, often so overwhelmingly loud and fast that he can't restrain the impulse to funnel it through pencil on paper in a bid to catch up. To stay afloat the surface of the sea.

The pen translates the abstract of his mind into a tangible product, until it takes a life of its own amidst the pages of a tiny black journal, barely seamed to its own spine at this point.

wonders who the girl was. how he'd never seen her before. what led her to Orion, and why. why'd shed extended kindness to a disheveled stranger. so he draws the girl amidst the rowdy crowd earlier that evening. draws the ribbon draping down her shoulders like some sort of angelic halo. draws her creased eyes in cooncern as she asked of his condition. 

you see, for the longest time, jeongguk found himself alone. like the sleeping town cloaked in night, jeon found himself enveloped by darkeness; a lone star in an early universe. it hadn't occurred to him that one day floating debris could compact itself tight enough to birth a neighboring star which he ultimately would become engrossed in studying. (how are stars born?)

࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

ORION FIGHT CLUB September

SOMEWHERE EAST, AROUND SUTTON & MATLOCK september, still

Elailah gets out of dance rehearsals an hour later than scheduled, a change from the usual two hours over, and though that would normally be enough to put a pep in her step on the way home, today she feels a storm clouding her mood. She sort of lets it drench her. Her gym bag is heavy enough to draw a huff from her when she hoists it up off the locker room floor and shoves past the snickering, rumoring juniors. Heavy with all the criticism she'd received from her instructor for the better part of practice. Ballet master Byron has always shown a tendency to isolate her "poor posture" and "lazy arms" since she joined the company but today the comments were a hail storm. One would think her skin's calloused over from the amount of cuts inflicted by criticism; it's still as tender and youthful as when she'd fall on the concrete of her neighborhood while chasing friends in a game of tag. she holds the strap of her bag over her shoulder in both fists. holds the weight of the doubt that, maybe, she'll never be good enough for the part, as Byron so often accuses. and perhaps he's right, having trained enough dancers to discern between the ones that have the enigmatic spark and those that don't. no matter how much she dances in front of the mirror, she can never tell whether the sparks there, doesn't know where to look, really. is it meant to be in her gaze? in her poised smile? in the slopes of her arms and legs, which she painfully carves and molds? or is it something more abstract, gleaming from the soul, through the layers of tule. she thinks that if she were to see it one day, of sudden nature, she'd cling to it desperately. a lost ship having found its lighthouse. for now she has little-to-no alternative but to grope the darkness.

At times like this, it feels like all her life she's been auditioning for a part. She doesn't even know the casting, doesn't even know if its a character she'd like to become but it's no matter. she's an expert at becoming what people want her to be.

-

She doesn't expect to find both of her parents home when she sluggishly mounts the stairs up to their apartment door.

They're sat at the kitchen island, nursing warm mugs of coffee. Bills and print-outs are loitered across the textured surface of the counter.

Having heard enough attacks to her persona today, however disguised by constructive intent, she decides she can't hear anymore of it. She retreats down the hall she'd sauntered through just minutes ago.

Calls her one friend, from primary school. used to be neighbors before their parents moved her up into the city district for better dedication to dance. now they only keep in touch via socials, and scarce and few in between face calls.

she's still the only friend she has. at the dance company, it's hardly friendship between the students. it's rivalry fueled by ambition and misplaced greed of parents. every kid is fighting for a scholarship, or a position on the recital, hoping for their one chance in the limelight.

Childhood company wilts in the past as the phone call directs to voicemail.

E fiddles with the strap of her bag. repositions it so it's no longer digging into the flesh of her shoulder.

she shoots a text at her brother, Ian, the paramedic. starts walking down the block to his shared flat (shares it with other paramedics who thought they could better save for medical or nursing school if they could cut their rent into fourths amongst themselves). she types she's headed over, asks if he's around.

"sorry, sis. I'm on shift. ten more hours."

"can i just stop by, i think i forgot my cream leg warmers last week."

"No one's home today to let you in and Nick lost the spare key" they kept in a dead plant vase at the foot of the entrance next to the door mat. "I'll look around when i get off to see if I find it.

her parents could think she's still at practice. it wouldn't be an oddity. she just needed a moment of quiet solitude. just wanted to be no one or entirely someone else for only a moment before resuming her perpetual role casting.

and for reason she can't entirely name, her strides lead west. towards a sketchy, dingy fight club she first visited a week ago.

she visits the club the following night, drawn compulsively as if in a manic state. cloaked in oversized attire enough to be confused with a male figure in the boisterous crowd. she sinks into it, allows it to embrace her, as she watches from beneath her hood the fights proceed, all the while holding herself at the edge of her seat for the familiar pierced brow and set of dark locks.

she down plays it as pity. btut perhaps she's caught herself in her own web again. fallen to her own ploys of saving things whenever she feels helpless herself.

that night she's leaving to head back home. replying to her mother who asked when she'll be home. "did coach point out your sloppy form during *** move again. I've told you to strengthen your ankles*** lol.

a weird figure approcahes her in the dim valley. she doesn't realize at first.

somehow jeongguk comes to her rescue, lures her out of there muttering how it's not safe. takes her to his hideout until the storm blows over (apparently they were his rivals?).

-

Jeongguk's hand swiftly gyrates. Bold charcoal on paper, smearing against the side of his hand, his knuckles. The absract circles and frames begin to consolidate into a vivid figure on the page. Perhaps it because he deeply understands restlessness, a bystander can spot it in his incessant bouncing leg, the knibble of his cheek, the drumming of his fingers. whatver the reason, he manages to capture the fluidity of the dancer on the stage so that the drawing emanates her swiftness, her grace, her state of action, transcendence. she is dancing across the page just as much as she is dancing up on the stage.

he briefly glances up from his journal, scrutinizing the lines of her figure through his parted fringe*. doesn't stop his pencil from moving as he does so, doesn't want to disrupt the momentum.

when he looks back down at the page, blotches of red pepper its surface. he jolts his hand, sliding it to the margins of the page to inspect the source and finds the trail of red follows his flesh. lifting his hand for inspection, a tear over the abused flesh of his knuckles stings.

undeterred, he starts a new frame on the bottom left fourth of the page. emphasizes the sleek, elegant lines of her swan-like neck, her arms bowed about her.

had it not been for the intense stage lights, he wouldn't have noticed, seated in the dark auditorium a number of rows back, a tear glisten down her face. it did nothing to erode her smile. a paradox, that smile seemed. stoic and permanent but so fragile. a ceramic vase, sculpted to perfection, hardened by fire. no matter how many times she had collided with the gorund - which he estimated was more than he could count on his fingers - it persisted, never shattering.

and that's when his hands slowed on the page, leg ceased its bouncing, muscles laxed, eyes rounded. like seeing something hidden for hte first time, he came to realize she and him are kindered in spirit. kindred in pain. that while she dresses in heavenly tulle, and he in metal armor, their souls are weaved of the same thread.

࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

OUTTAKES

(things i wish i wrote better, emphasized more or changed altogether and why)

bit unrealistic how she'd walk with a stranger through the night, through an unknown and dangerous side of town, without access to her phone without as much as constant, paranoid glances over her shoulder.

Would have liked to have further developed the contrast between their respective sides of town (reminiscent of Gatsby’s East and West Egg) and emphasized the boundary line between the two, perhaps positioned Wonderwall theater dead center of it to symbolize their union.

Wished I'd exposed more of the toxic parent-daughter dynamic on Elailah's side to make the reader empathize with her desire to flee.

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Willa Fitzgerald

full name: Theresa Colette Browning-Avery

nickname(s) / goes by: Tessa, Tess

pronouns & gender: cis woman / she/her

sexuality: Heterosexuality

birth date: May 14, 1991

birth place: Merrock, ME

arrival to merrock: Local

housing: The Coast & Pier

occupation: Author/Housewife

work place: Her home

family: Member of the Browning family; Husband’s family (Open); Daughters: Alicent Elizabeth, June 22, 2017 (6); Eloise Arissa, October 24, 2020(3); Emilia Grace, January 10, 2024 (4 months); Son: Gabriel Ethan, August 8, 2014 (9)

relationship status: Married

PERSONALITY

Tessa has never been the life of the party, instead she is the one in the background making sure the party stays on track; that nothing goes wrong. Throughout her adolescent years most would have categorized Tessa as a "Goody Two-Shoes" or "Little Miss Priss". The good girl that always followed the rules and could do no wrong. Not that Tessa ever perceived herself as being better than others in her need to be good. In reality Tessa’s younger personality and behaviors were a product of her parents. It was not until she married and moved away that Tessa’s true personality came to light. No longer under her parents’ control Tessa’s fun, loving, free spirited nature shined through. Her smile is genuine and unique as is her happy nature. She easily makes strangers into friends with her sweet disposition and caring nature. She loves to laugh, joke, and can even be sarcastic at times. She is also not one to judge or criticize others. She feels that looking for faults in others only allows your own faults to reveal themselves. She accepted others for who they are and tried to find the good in everyone. That is not to say she won’t call out anyone who tried to wrong others. She a far cry from the girl she was growing up to who she is today.

WRITTEN BY: Bea (she/her), est.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: pregnancy, family abandonment, injury, military mention

Theresa Colette Browning, youngest child of four with two older brothers and one sister was born on May 14, 1991, to native parents of Merrock that spent more time showing off the fact that they came from money than spending time with their children. Theresa does not remember much about her first three years other than the longing and need for her parents’ attention. The young girl tried everything from fit throwing to acting out and nudging her way in front of her parents. None of those things worked. Theresa soon realized that the only way to get her parents to notice her was by being agreeable. Follow the rules, learn proper behavior, get good grades, do as you are asked, do not cause any issues, or transgressions earned Theresa the attention she longed for from her parent. For 14 years, Theresa did everything her parents required of her. She took the classes they wanted, took part in the sports they choose for her, and even entered a few beauty pageants. Not that she ever won. As Theresa entered her senior year of high school she started to question whether abiding by her parents’ wishes was what she genuinely wanted after all.

Throughout the year she stated to rebuff her parents’ control over her life. She would skip classes, stay out late, and quit after school activities she found no interest in. Over time Theresa even dropped a hand full of her friends. One friend that she kept around was her best friend they had become friends around the age of three and over the years they grew close. They shared everything with each and as their bond grew their parents started to make comments about their relationship. While they were best friends both set of parents felt that they were a couple. This thought grew into the idea that they should get married. One thing Theresa’s mother always pushed was that a woman could never go wrong in finding a good man to take care of her and that Theresa would make a wonderful house wife. House wife; that was far from the life Theresa dreamed of having once she reached adulthood.

At first she avoided the subject; however, as her graduation date grew closer her parents started to push her more on the idea of marrying her best friend. Theresa tried every persuasion she could think of to get her parents to drop the subject, but nothing worked. Funny thing was her best friend had not even proposed to her and yet both their parents had started to plan a wedding. The date set for nine months after graduating, when the best friend returned from basic training camp. Only he never returned. Instead, he was deployed for an 18-month tour. This cancelled the wedding and allowed Theresa to get on with her life. With freedom in her grasp, Theresa moved out of her parents’ house, got a job, and started to move on with her life or so she thought. It seemed her parents were not done with the whole marriage idea or planning a wedding. They set a new date and rearranged everything without her knowledge. Word about what her parents had done only reached her ears while her best friend was on leave, and he bought it up. He had a plan; they would marry and that would allow her to join him wherever he was stationed at after his deployment. She could attend college and in two years they would divorce. The idea of being a divorcee at the age of twenty-two did not sit well with Theresa but being stuck under her parents’ thumbs for the rest of her life sounded a lot worst.

That autumn as the leaves turned the colors of orange, red and yellows, Theresa said I do. Two weeks later she was moving into the housing provided by the Presidio of Monterey Army Base. By that winter she had enrolled at California State University, Monterey Bay majoring in Psychology. Months passed and by that spring her husband was deployed once more. What should have been a two year deployment end just before a year was up when her husband was seriously injured. It took almost two weeks to get him back into the states, and during that time Theresa realized just how much she genuinely loved her husband and did not want a divorce. At the sight of him in the hospital bed, Theresa could not hold back her emotions and confessed everything to him. In the end, he felt the same and did not want a divorce either.

It took almost four months for her husband to recover and during that time they made plans for their future. They just did not plan for the little surprise they got six months after he was injured; Theresa was pregnant. Their son was born on August 8, 2014; happy and healthy with ten fingers and toes. Theresa sheared the news with her parents but when they flew out for a visit shortly after her son’s birth she finally realized just how toxic they. They would end up leaving soon after Theresa expressed that she would not be following their wishes when it came to how her son was going to be raised. Theresa has never spoken to her parents since that day. The couple continued on with their lives in California, until husband retired from the Army at the end of 2016. At the time they were unsure where life was going to take them, but they knew for sure that they wanted to move back home to Merrock in order to be closer to their families. Theresa, pregnant once more it took them a while to work out all the planning; however, by the time their first daughter made her appearance into the world they were living with his parents in Merrock and looking for a house to buy. Six years and two more daughters later Theresa could not be any happier than she is at this moment. 

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Putting our green thumbs to the test and stargazing in the woods

They say the stars shine at its brightest when it’s at its most darkest. It sounds like a cliche saying, but it is true - in a literal sense. Being in the Withering Woods in the winter is a totally different experience compared to visiting it any other time of the year. Aside from the cold - which isn’t actually too bad - the lack of visibility when the sun goes down is a concern in this area.

That’s part of the reason why I’m here with the campers to help the Knights plant a bunch of starlight bellflowers. The idea came from Ruthie, the newest member of the group. She still in the process of moving in here, so we’re helping with that too as her house needs a lot of work. Thankfully, with a bunch of extra hands around - especially those who are experts at building things - we got that done in no time! There’s still a lot more work to be done, but at least all her stuff’s here.

So it’s safe to say that we’ve been pretty busy up here. The cafe’s been slow because of the cold and dark, which is usually the case around this time of year. Aside from missions that pop up every now and then, the Knights have been focusing on helping Ruthie. The sooner we plant the starlight bellflowers, the better - and safer - it’ll be for everyone who passes by the woods.

Ruthie’s hoping to make a brand new start by joining the Knights, especially after hearing so many stories from Cori. She used to be a legal advisor, something she said would’ve been more interesting if it weren’t for the people she worked with. Her extensive knowledge of the law has helped the Knights in many situations, so she’s quite familiar with how they operate.

Although she’d been long burned out because of her coworker, Ruthie had stuck around because she wanted to help people. And she did, which was why she kept doing it. But ultimately, the bad outweighed the good, especially when it reaches a point where everything’s changed and you can’t ever go back. In a way, Ruthie felt that it was a sign for her to leave, though she wished the circumstances could’ve been a lot better.

All she can say about her coworker/business partner/boss is that while he’s not a bad guy, he’s dealt with a lot of unlucky breaks and that left him bitter. From how it sounds, he probably wasn’t an easy person to deal with. Ruthie put up with him for as long as he could because she respected him, but like with his ex-wife, she was worn down by his constant bickering and negativity. Eventually, it go to a point where Ruthie realized that she couldn’t take it anymore, and left despite his protests.

But that’s not the end of it. Instead of it turning into a long, drawn out argument, George had another pressing matter at hand. His daughter Susie surprised her parents when she decided that she wanted to marry a guy she had only known for a couple months while vacationing in Apricotta.

Apparently, Susie’s parents were planning to postpone/sabotage the wedding - Ruthie believes Sam’s the former, George the latter. On one hand, Ruthie understands the concern about Susie moving too quickly, but at the same time, she’s capable of making her own decisions. She also said that Susie was also kinda why she stuck around, because although they don’t see each other much, they always got along well.

And then an incident happened. George ended up getting drunk or high and crashed a boat, killing three, including Sam. Now, instead of getting ready for a wedding, Susie had to make arrangements for her mother’s funeral. How terrible. Even though Ruthie cut ties with George, she didn’t hesitate to be there for Susie.

As Ruthie mentioned, it wasn’t the work that got to her, it was the people. George was only part of it, there’s other coworkers who get on her nerves even more, and unlike George, there’s no Sam or Susie to make things more bearable. When George pled guilty and resigned, the team practically turned on each other and basically used Ruthie as a weapon, guilt tripping her into returning. She had suspected it, but didn’t want to think about it too much, but those people were just straight up selfish, which made Ruthie stick out even more.

Despite being in the middle of that, Ruthie says the real victim is Susie. While her former colleagues were trying to get Ruthie on their side in order to save face and do damage control, not a single one of them reached out to Susie and offered their sympathy. They claim to care about their friend and yet, it’s radio silence when it comes to his daughter and the grief she’s going through because she didn’t just lose her mom, but her dad as well. That’s something Ruthie’s still upset about, and she’s right.

At least Susie’s still getting married and Ruthie will be there. There’s no date yet, but they’re aiming for late summer or early fall. In the meantime, Ruthie’s looking at wedding gifts and outfits, as well as planning an itinerary as she plans to stay in Apricotta for a month.

With all her stuff finally here, Ruthie says it finally feels like a new beginning. At this point, she’s blocked so many of her ex-coworkers that she found it kinda funny. Latte and Ambrosia said it was the same when they left their former factions. Funny how you suddenly become valuable to those who saw you as disposable and worthless the second you set your boundaries and walk out.

But before she can start decorating, Ruthie wants to plant the starlight bellflowers while we can make the most out of the sunlight. Thankfully, they’re not hard to plant as we just need the soil, which happened to be on sale. If it wasn’t for that, then we’d be paying more than twice as much!

To keep ourselves warm in between gardening sessions, we’ve been helping Harmony out in the kitchen. Harmony’s the master of taking whatever’s on hand and winging it to make something good. There’s a lot of vegetables so soup it is. Nothing like a hearty veggie soup to keep you warm and cozy - especially with potatoes, those are a must in my opinion.

Aymn’s been stopping by to help out too. According to Harmony, he’s been showing up at the woods a lot and has been a huge help with pretty much everything. Safiyya tried to drop by when she can as well, but she’s been really busy lately, mostly with things beyond her control. The other Knights are just as concerned about her as well. I hope Safiyya’s doing okay.

Not too long ago, Aymn spent a couple weeks in Adrikha with Safiyya. In short, things didn’t go as planned and it kinda left them more stressed out than relaxed. Though, Aymn said he didn’t really come for a vacation. He came for personal reasons, which was to try and discover his origins.

All he knows is that like Sadiki and Amina, he was abandoned as an infant. However, his early years weren’t as eventful as theirs as he was soon adopted by a couple from overseas. Despite never growing up in Adrikha and having his roots purposely obscured, Aymn never stopped being curious about his homeland.

A lot of the stress has to do with his adoptive parents, something he’s touched on in streams. They’re the kind of people who seem to like the concept of raising kids, not so much the effort it takes. Then toss in living with undiagnosed autism for most of his childhood and being around people who see that a a personality flaw instead of a disability, and well… There’s a lot more, obviously, but that alone says a lot.

It’s a good thing Aymn left as soon as he could, and even if his parents wanted to, they can’t stop him from living the life he wants on his own terms. And besides, they’ll have to go through people like Safiyya, or the Knights, Sadiki and Nabil, or even The Android. Even though it’s tempting to cut them off completely, Aymn said he could never go through with is because despite how things are, they still raised him. Conflicting feelings are never easy to deal with.

As for Safiyya, Aymn’s concerned about her. It’s not that she’s naive, but he thinks she’s just fed up with everything and that’s taking a toll on her mental health. The way he sees it, she’s the kind of person who ties her worth to her work. Meaning, she tries to work towards an end, something tangible and clear cut, like a checklist or something. But obviously, life doesn’t work out that way.

I think Ambrosia said it best when she said that the work will never be done. She’s clearly speaking from experience as she knows what it’s like to be in a position with impossibly high expectations placed on your shoulders. Where everyone looks up to you because you’re supposed to be perfect and knowledgable. I can’t imagine being under such pressure, I don’t think I’d survive.

She also brought up a good point about how the work will never be done. Of course, she didn’t mean it in a bad way. It just means that you have to take it one day at a time, and you shouldn’t be hard on yourself if you can’t get everything done all at once. It’s kinda like progress, just because you accomplished something doesn’t mean you just stop there.

Life is about moving forward and changing with the tides. To work towards an imagined end goal somewhere in the void is just setting yourself up for disappointment. What’s the point of setting impossible goals for yourself other than to beat yourself up when things inevitably fall short?

In other words, we all should be kinder to ourselves, especially when things aren’t going well.

Ruthie used to be like that, mostly over things she had no control over, which is why she’s driven to help people. She feels like Safiyya’s a lot like her in that sense. And now she’s reaching a low point where she feels helpless and disillusioned because she can’t help but focus on the bad. With all the things Safiyya’s had to deal with, it’s no wonder why she’s starting to falter.

Aymn thought that having her tag along with him to Adrikha would help get her mind off things, only for it seem like to have the opposite effect. Like Safiyya, he’s also under a lot of pressure and it’s been taking a toll on him too. Somehow, he thought he could distract himself by trying to find more information on his origins.

Unfortunately, just like his previous attempts over the years, Aymn turned up with nothing. At this point, Sadiki and Nabil told him that it was futile, especially if all it’s gonna do is hurt him more than help. As for why he’s so determined to find answers, he’s not so sure himself. Maybe because his adoptive parents tried so hard to cut him off his roots, it made him more determined to hold on. I guess when you have so little to go on, you’ll take anything, even if it ends up hurting you in the end.

At least being out here in the woods and planting starlight bellflowers has been a good distraction for him. He can’t help but worry about Safiyya, but he also knows that it’s not good to fixate on things he can’t control. After all, one thing Safiyya really needs is time and space. And if their trip to Adrikha proved anything, it’s that Aymn and Safiyya need to spend some time apart and take a step back from their lives.

I wish I could help them in some way, but like Aymn said, only time can help. Not to mention that Safiyya herself must be able to admit that she’s carrying too much on her shoulders in order to accept that she can’t fix everything. In that regard, she kinda reminds me of how Emmaline was when she was young.

Sooner or later it’s gonna come crashing down for Safiyya, and when she falls, Aymn and the Knights will do their utmost to be there for her. And that’s another thing she had in common with Emmaline, having a good support system who will stand by her side even when she’s at her worst. I’d hate to think what would happen to them if they were truly alone - the fact that there are people out there, suffering in the void with no one but their demons to torment them, it’s no wonder why we fear being lonely.

Every member of the Knights have been through some really low lows, and it’s times like these that makes me realize how strong and resilient they are. If anyone’s able to get through to Safiyya, I think it’s gonna be them.

The last couple nights have been really dark and starry, which is a good way to unwind after a busy day of gardening and moving furniture around. It wasn’t until I took the time to gaze into the night sky in the wilderness when I finally got to appreciate the stars. I personally find the dark somewhat comforting in a way that I can lose myself into it and allow myself to float away.

And for the stars, I still like to believe they’re wishes. Not just whims and desires, but also ambitions, dreams, memories, tears, laughter - remnants of something, I don’t know. Especially under a pitch black sky, I feel like the stars are somehow feel more tangible than ever.

Read on AO3

[justanechoflower-ddlc]

Natsuki:…

Sayori:Well! Now that both of you have done your guesses, let’s see how well you did!

Sayori:The one I did was… Shining Stars! Good job, you two!~

Sayori:Natsuki’s was… Amy Likes Spiders! Which leaves Yuri’s as… Ghost Under the Light! You both got them all right! Yay~!

Natsuki:Told ya you did great, Monika! Seriously. I was trying not to respond to how well you got Amy Likes Spiders! On, what, your first day here?! No wonder Sayori’s talked about you the way she has!

Natsuki:As for Buttercup… well, this is your first day. You still got ‘em right, and were also smart enough to know when Monika did better at working out what I was trying to say. So good job! But look. We’ve all been doing this for a long while, you know! Our poems have meanings to them! Sure, they’re not all wrapped around in a bunch of fancy words like Yuri’s, but they’re still there! When looking through my poems, you should try to see if you can find something that jumps out at you!

Natsuki:We’re not amateurs, you know! Except maybe Monika…

Yuri:Natsuki, “amateur” refers to not being a professional, and professional refers to a career. This isn’t our job, so… we actually-

Natsuki:You know what I meant, Yuri!! That’s not how most of us use that word!

Sayori:Oh, right, you’ve never seen any of Monika’s poems! I assure you, she’s no newbie when it comes to poetry.

Monika:Speaking of, the reason why I didn’t bring a poem is because I didn’t even know I’d be coming here thismorning. It was only after I quit the debate club today and told Sayori about it thisafternoon that I knew I was coming here. If I stop by tomorrow, I will be bringing a poem with me! Also, I didn’t start the club, technically Sayori did. I might have given her the idea and helped her, but she actually started it.

Sayori:You might as well have been the one to start it! Without you, I’d have never made it! And without me… you’d probably either find someone else and give them the idea, or, after you quit Debate Club today, have made it yourself! You’re why this place exists! But I get why you didn’t bring a poem, you really didn’t know you’d be coming today before school started!

Monika:Right, I didn’t know! So I simply didn’t have time to prepare a poem, or bring one from home. But tomorrow, I’ll be more prepared.

Sayori:You’ve REALLY got to see one of Monika’s poems! I really hope she comes by tomorrow!

Monika:I probably will! I did miss the start of today’s meeting, after all, and I’d like to see how that starts. And it’s not like I have Debate Club anymore!

Natsuki:You really wouldn’t wanna miss tomorrow. Now that we know we’ve got two new members, I’ll be baking cupcakes for everyone!

Yuri:And I’ll be bringing tea. And yes, Monika, we managed to get the teachers’ permission for tea.

Monika:I believe you! Sayori’s really good at resolving conflict! And pretty crafty, she’s been known to use her cuteness to her advantage…

Natsuki:And Buttercup, you get it! Manga has a lot more to it than just “cute”! Most people don’t get it… Even the people over in the Anime Club don’t get it right! You’d think fans of anime would understand what it’s all about, right? Nope! Most of them are more interested in who’d be a better character to get married with than actually engaging with what the anime or manga is trying to say, or anything else about the characters! That’s why I passed up on that club and joined this one! It still counts because manga is literature!

Sayori:The next day, I had the both of them read each others’ kind of literature-Natsuki reading a novel, and Yuri reading manga. That way, they’d get a chance to see what’s good about each others’ kinds of books!

>#It was actually Yuri’s idea for everyone to diversify from the run before, after Ivan revealed he only read manga, but I thought it was great and stole it for this run! Ehehe~

Yuri:Natsuki, clearly with my own interests in literature in mind, picked out Pages of Death as my manga. And it was far different than what my notion of “manga” was. That’s probably why she chose it.

Natsuki:Yep! That’s exactly why! It’s not my favorite manga, not by a long shot, but it does serve as the perfect example of how manga isn’t some cute thing with nothing real to say! It’s NOT something anyone needs to “grow out of”! I got “The Tollbooth of Wonder”, which…

Natsuki:Wait, why can’t I remember it?!

Sayori:Hehe, maybe Yuri should have picked out a light novel before a regular novel. That might have eased the transition. You’re used to visuals, aren’t you?

Natsuki:That might be it. I really only remember how I felt reading it! It had a lot of good wordplay, and how the magical part of that world actually runs off of it! *giggles*

Yuri:I did my best to find a novel that would at least be enjoyable for Natsuki. To show that what much of what she enjoys in manga can also be found in novels, and to give her a glimpse of how an unfamiliar world might be intriguing…

Yuri:As for your take on my poem, Buttercup, while I won’t comment entirely what I meant yet, as not to take away everyone’s chance to form their own meaning sometime later, I will say you did well at catching most of the metaphors. The light really can be thought of as the last part of the past they have left, and even it will fade away. Only living in the past is unsustainable.

Yuri:You’re also correct that the ghost is a metaphor, the speaker isn’t literally a ghost.

Sayori:Oh, of course! If they were really a ghost, they couldn’t be under the light at all, right?

Monika:…That… isn’t always the case. You’re thinking of the kind of ghosts in some video games, and maybe a few horror movies. There’s a whole bunch of ghosts in folklore that have no such weakness! Like the yokai! But it does make more sense to think of the ghost as a metaphor for something else. The question is what exactly it’s a metaphor for… Oh wait! Ghosts are people who were alive in the past, and haven’t passed on because they’re still linked to something in the past! All the speaker is doing is lingering on… but by doing this, they’ll soon be left with nothing… the metaphor could very well represent someone who just can’t let go of the past! So, Buttercup seems to be spot-on here! At least, to my knowledge. I really will have to think about it some more.

Monika:(Yuri explained the poem wasn’t really about a ghost the first time, as well… But I’m trying NOT to let what she said about her poem in earlier timelines influence my analysis.)

Yuri:Well, I’ll give you time. It’s interesting to see what each of you get out of the poem.

Natsuki:Wait… Buttercup, you got what Yuri was going for spot-on first try?! But it took Monika for you to get what I was going for?! How?! Mine was clearly easier to digest than YURI’S!

Monika:Well, when he first guessed your poem, he never got to see how we analyze each other’s poems. His Yuri interpretation came after my Natsuki interpretation. I think the initial error with your poem just came from him not knowing how the club works, ahaha!

Monika:Plus, he said before he only got into these more detailed analysis because of me making him curious! Probably after seeing what I was able to get from your poem, and me saying Yuri’s clearly has a deeper meaning… Before that he was just trying to work out who made what, not necessarily the full details of what each of you were going for! And he succeeded at that! 

Natsuki:…I guess you have a point, Monika. But he better be taking my poetry seriously!

———————————

(Since none of these were in the game, I’ll say it here:”Pages of Death” would be their version of Death Note. “The Tollbooth of Wonder” a more original book that I don’t have a story for, but the idea is it’s both in the genre of literary nonsense, like Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and The Phantom Tollbooth, but also has multiple protagonists, kind of like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Natsuki not remembering the book at first was actually the game not being able to actually generate the story for that book so quickly. I went with something like that because I’m not aware of a singular novel that it’d make sense for Yuri to pick out for Natsuki. Perhaps I would if I knew more novels…)

(Monika’s Sayori analysis will be the next post. During that same post will probably be when Yuri gives an answer to “blue-green” and “amber”, though she might be vague about her explanation on purpose. For now, she’s seeing if Monika can work out her own meaning of those colors. And I’m seeing if I can work out what the colors mean, I didn’t have any idea, because Yuri doesn’t elaborate on those in the game! I’ll have to see what I can get from color symbolism… There probably is a reason why she chose the exact colors she did.)

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

[fractoluminescence]

(Warning: I haven't proof-read this)

I very much agree with the idea that marriage and relationships work in general differently in Soul Society (and specifically the Gotei) than in the World of the Living. For one, as you said, many people arrive as opposed to being born - the main exception trend-wise being nobles (which makes a lot of sense - having high spiritual pressure seems to be genetic, and souls get reborn in the Rukongai, not in Seireitei (not that I know of anyway), so the main way for them to get high-spirited(?lol?) children to carry on their legacy would be to adopt talented Soul Reapers and bear children themselves).

I've always assumed that many Soul Reapers live with the rest of their division - although, we don't know how flexible things this is, and it's something we have seen examples of mostly for Captains). We know Byakuya has his own estate, and that Aizen worked late into the night at his office, implying that perhaps he didn't live all that far? And of course Shinji and Urahara lived in their Division's Captain-specific quarters 100 years ago. Still, despite how few and far-between these examples are, my headcanon stays that most Gotei officers live at their Division's barracks as a general rule, because it would both allow them to be present if there was an emergency in the middle of the night and would cut them off from a more 'normal' part of life that whoever is in charge may want to make them forget about as much as possible.

Soul Reapers are more likely to die young than anyone else up there, making it less likely that they'll have the time to get married - or might not get married to avoid widowing someone and/or leaving them to raise a child/children alone - instead relying on camaraderie - it's a common form of found family in the Gotei, at least from what we can see of the higher-ranking officers. At any rate, I wouldn't be surprised if making attachments that are perceived as more 'long-lasting' or requiring more commitment may be seen negatively by older/more traditional members of the Gotei (outside of arranged marriages, as they would be seen as a 'necessity' by noble clans). That being in love would be one thing, but getting married would traditionally imply building a family, which would be a big no-no for people who should be willing to give themselves over to their job entirely, keep their heads on straight when civilians are put in danger and to sacrifice themselves in battle if necessary. Camaraderie and in-Division friendships would be seen as necessary for social interaction needs/Division morale and better group cohesion, all the while being underplayed on the emotional, long-term level.

As for individual characters, I personally don't see Yamamoto as married - for the same reason as I don't think Kyouraku will marry now. Having a job with such high stakes and so much responsibility is bound to take a toll on you. I don't expect either of them to be able to muster the energy for anything more than light dating, and they may worry that getting married openly would get people wondering whether they're actually focusing on their job.

Kyouraku and Ukitake are, to me, each other's SOs. It's up for interpretation, but Kubo said he created them as a pair and they always shine best together imo. Some people argue Kyouraku is straight - but for one, they could still be friends, two, bisexual people exist, and three, some couples may not care if one of them sleeps around. So I see nothing wrong here in any way.

I headcanon Rose as gay and as not wanting to be tied down too much. I hadn't really thought about his family though. It's more to think about for me hehe.

The impact the exile of the Visored had on them and on the Gotei is utterly under-discussed. That was so many Captains and Lieutenants lost at once! And for them, the loss of all contact with their families, jobs, and lives in general. What a nightmare it must've been - for everyone. (Also, the prospect that a Soul Reaper could be turned into a Hollow - might be quite a nightmarish thing to think about for many Soul Reapers).

Last thing, and a bit of an aside - I haven't heard fertility in Soul Society discussed often tbh. The main time I remember reading about it was in a fic in which it was a sort of emotional plot point, and it was implied then that fertility rates were abysmally low in Soul Society or something of the kind. Personally, I assume they are lower - that or they got some good contraception, because otherwise cis straight couples would have a lot more children than they seem to have in canon, since Soul Reapers have long lifespans and thus relationships would last longer in years, even if it would be proportionally similar to human ones.

Hello there! Idk have you ever talk about this or not, but I just found out a translation of an interview with Kubo called 'Bleach Jet' from local Bleach fanbase. One of the question said 'are the captains married? Since the only confirmed married one is Byakuya and he's actually younger than other captains'. Then Kubo answered 'well, tbh I never thought about it. But when I think it over, it would be sad if somebody as old as Yamajii is not married. So let's assume that they could be married, but it's just not necessary to be included in the story so I never write about it'. You know, I was so excited when I read it lok. In your opinion, which captains are apparently married? I only could imagine Ukitake since he's a perfect husband/daddy material (well I also want to know who's that lucky woman). But the others, seems kinda impossible lol. I'll be happy if you responded to my question. Thanks!

OH MAN. I’m interested in this in a couple of ways. The first way I am interested in this question is that neither of us had ever once wondered this. It did not even occur to us to wonder this, LOL. Too busy fixating on WHEELS, apparently. 

Because of this, it feels like a magic trick, where the source material has asked you to look in a particular direction at a particular thing and sleight of hand (spouses) might occur before your eyes without you ever seeing it. I truly just took for granted that everyone would be single unless explicitly noted otherwise--Byakuya continues to be married to Hisana in his heart as the only married captain, until eventually Rukia joins him.

But it’s exciting to me that there could already be secret spouses who never came up simply because the narrative was never pointed in their direction. I’ve experienced this with people IRL before, and I think there’s plenty of precedent for this in Bleach itself, given that there are a fair number of shinigami with relatives whom we know to be alive and well and never meet.

For instance, Yoruichi’s brother seems really young, which suggests that their married parents might…? still be alive?? Unless they died tragically in the decades immediately preceding TBTP when Yuushirou was a baby, which I guess is equally possible and probably further justifies Soi Fon’s distaste for Urahara/her being high-strung about the kind of company Yoruichi keeps/depends on. Maybe the Shihouin Parents died when all of Soi Fon’s brothers did. 😬 (Speaking of family members it never occurred to me would have existed until we were told they existed…)

As for our currently or were-recently serving Gotei officers: In my mind, Yamamoto and Sasakibe were together. Not romantically—in a different universe, maybe, but in theirs the fact that Yamamoto is Captain Commander and Sasakibe is his VC precludes all else. Because this relationship exists, it forecloses all notion of other romantic partners, even as they themselves are not romantic partners.

I’ve always imagined Kyouraku and Ukitake having a different but kinda similar thing going on, though I’d be more willing to imagine that Ukitake also has a spouse out there somewhere than Yamamoto having one, re: your suggestion in the original ask. It makes me think about all of Ukitake’s siblings. I assume they’re all well into adulthood at this point but… how much do they know? About how Ukitake died? How much were they depending on his care (financially, family leadership-wise, family mediation-wise, etc.)? :(

One other person I could imagine having a spouse is Rose. Specifically, I could imagine him having had a spouse, past tense—pre-exile. If he were Seireitei-born to some middling noble house. Imagine with me a wife, and a noble marriage put together on the expectation that the line should continue by the birthing of children. It was arranged; they’re well-matched and get on quite famously. They have similar interests and pedigrees and if their marriage is not driven by fiery all-consuming PASSION, well, many marriages aren’t and they always have music to turn to if they’re in need of that kind of enchantment. When Rose was sentenced to death/exiled, his marriage was annulled and his wife was re-married to a different Outoribashi or related clan. I don’t think Rose would have wanted otherwise—it’s been 100 years now, and she and her new husband are quite happy; heirs were produced, etc.—but it’s still sad. The Vizard exile had more consequences than many in the Gotei will ever know, and more still that will never be written.

—

The second way I am interested in this question is that I actually really enjoy Soul Society as a place where social roles—specifically as they relate to romance, marriage, and children, in any case—are a lot less circumscribed than they are often understood to be in the mainstream of the Living World. If the prototypical narrative in the Living World is, say, "by age 20 you will be married to a spouse of the opposite sex and children will follow thereafter," that doesn’t seem like the case within the Gotei, at least from what we see, and I love thinking through potential factors.

Some baseline examples:

A billionty of the people in Soul Society weren’t born in the first place, and instead arrived. 

Shinigami lifespans differ from humans and life milestones may not function in the same way (even as it seems like shinigami spend a LOT of time in what are optimal child-bearing years for us). 

Shinigami biology also differs from ours, potentially in ways that matter--who knows what fertility is like for them.

It seems like shinigami are dying just like, all the time, which I can imagine genuinely altering baseline assumptions around what interpersonal relationships are like and what they mean. 

I feel like there’s a lot of opportunity here for a lot of different types of relationships being much more normalized and understood alongside the marriage/children route. (And, additionally, the marriage/children route being more naturally understood as itself quite individual and rife with complexities that the boilerplate version of the Living World’s Notion of Marriage tends to leave out.) So that’s all very exciting to me.

What is the prototypical sexuality in Soul Society? Idk, all of them? What is the prototypical formal relationship arrangement? Idk, all of them? With probably more heterosexual coupling (or at least heterosexual-reading coupling), and more monogamy/marriage in noble circles, proportionally-speaking. I mean, I don’t think people getting married and having kids would be exceedingly rare, in the sense that Renji and Rukia probably weren’t making scandalous tabloid splash pages (though maybe on slow news days Hisagi has threatened this—idk I’ve never read WDKALY); but it feels like it would be one option among many, rather than the norm to which all other potentials are compared. I’m very enamored by the idea that D. All of the Above is Soul Society’s default in this one regard. 

They might live under ridiculous authoritarian hierarchical military whatnot, but AT LEAST LOVE IS FREE.

[let-them-read-fics]

At Your Service

Pairing: Jiu x Fem!Reader (& some Yoohyeon x Fem!Reader)

Warnings / Misc. -- Fluff, Angst, Smut, Mentions of violence, etc.

Word Count: 33,401 (grab a snack)

Synopsis: Jiu -- a married heiress and product of the centuries old, successful dynasty of Kims -- finds herself in need of a new personal maid following the sudden departure of her previous one. When opportunity arises and brings Y/N L/N -- a stubborn, working class citizen with a hatred for her less than ideal circumstances -- to her doorstep, how will they deal with the fallout?

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! Here's my first Dreamcatcher fic. I hope you enjoy! :)

💖 Happy Reading 🌹

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◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚

Blood trickled down the side of your father’s hand, shining crimson in the subtle flicker of candlelight. A makeshift weapon – some mangled piece of metal, resembling a shiv – cut into his skin slightly, due to the force of his grip on it. 

His weight was shifted to one foot, keeping him prepared to strike if need be; with the front door of your home slightly ajar, he craned his neck enough to communicate with the guards on the other side. His thumb rubbed the handle of the blade in rhythmic strokes… one, two … keeping his breathing in check. Appearing suspicious was a death sentence, and he knew that; so, he patiently waited for the opportunity to make a move.

In an eerie flash of black suits and gloves, the men pushed their way inside.

They came to loom over your family members with piercing gazes, staring holes into them. Tension was thick in the room, nearly suffocating. Each second was an hour as the interrogation they started dragged on, only increasing the chance of impulsivity on both sides. Glancing eyes were a silent challenge, the twitch of a finger was a call to arms.

At the center of it all, surrounded in more ways than you even knew at the time, was you. Had you known then how drastically your life would change, maybe you’d have done things differently. 

Maybe you would have started running after that first knock.

-

“We aren’t here seeking trouble, Y/F/N. What the heiress requires is simple, and you’re the first on the list to provide it,” the boss explained, reclining in your father’s chair. His slicked-back hair looked greasy in the low light of the room. 

“Y/N has nothing to do with any of my financial dealings,” your father reiterated, not backing down. “Paying off my debts isn’t something that concerns her.” 

That statement earned him a wary glance from you, though he didn’t see it.

The leader shrugged in response. “We have our orders just the same as you. And besides,” he reasoned, leaning forward enough to touch his elbows to his knees, “...this is something to be grateful for. All of your debt will be forgiven when she finishes her time at the estate. It’s as easy as that.”

“The estate?” You broke in, confusion heavy in your tone.

The man seemed appreciative of your question, with the way his face brightened as he turned his focus to you. “Precisely, Y/N. It’s a beautiful place, where Mrs. Kim lives; acres and acres of land, so many sights to see. And the house, well…” he paused, attempting to build anticipation like a parent reading to their child. “... the house is the best part. You’ll have your own quarters, near the heiress’s room, and be free to roam the halls once your work is completed for the day.” A wistful look befell him. “It's absolutely breathtaking." 

“What’s the catch?” You asked skeptically, narrowing your eyes. Your father turned to face you, unbelieving that you’d even entertain the idea by inquiring further. 

The leader sat up straighter, shaking his head slightly. “There isn’t one, Y/N, despite what your father may have led you to believe.” He glanced at him almost smugly before returning his gaze to you. “Everyone can benefit from this deal. The heiress gets the maid she needs, you can enjoy a few months away in the countryside, and your family will be relinquished of any debts owed. It’s truly that simple.”

You pondered for a moment. “How long would I be indentured?”

Your father adamantly shook his head, coming to stand in front of you. “No, Y/N. You’re not doing this. I forbid it.”

“Why?” 

The guards near your other family members took a step closer to them, though you failed to see it at the time. 

“This isn’t your due to pay,” he reasoned, hoping you’d just listen to him for once. “And nothing that these men say is ever true. Not fully, anyway.” He glanced over his shoulder subtly, stealing a peek at the boss. He took note of the positions the rest of the men were in, committing them to memory. 

“But father, if I have the chance to help like this I have to take it,” you affirmed, steadfast in your desire to be useful. 

“No.”

“Father–”

“I said no, Y/N.” He leveled his gaze with yours, stern and final. 

The leader sighed dramatically behind him, slapping his knees before moving to stand.

“I was really hoping to do this the easy way, Y/F/N.” He tutted, taking a step closer. Your father turned around to look at him, fiddling with the metal in his pocket again.

“Why do you always have to be so difficult?” He sounded genuinely disappointed. 

The other men darted forward when he nodded his head, grabbing the arms of your family members and forcefully restraining them behind their backs. You lunged towards your mother instinctively, ready to free her, but were met with the chilling sound of a gun cocking before you could pry their hands off of her. 

“Now now, Y/N. Don’t be like your father.”

Tears began to brim in your eyes as you slowly turned to look at the pair of them. A statement like that could only mean a handful of things, and none of them were good.

Your father's shiv was angled directly at the man's throat, nearly poking into his Adam's apple. In retaliation, you found his pistol pointed directly at your father’s head. 

Neither of them backed down; if the scene before you were a war of wills, it would surely be a bloodbath.

“Don’t be a hero, okay?” The adversary smiled crookedly, looking truly evil in the light of the room. “You have the power to end this however you want.”

Y/F/N reached a hand out to you, sensing how frightened you were. Even when his life was on the line, keeping you calm was more important. 

“Don’t listen to him, Y/N/N. Nothing good will come of anything he says–”

A stomach-churning crack rang out before you even had time to blink.

Only once your father spit a mouthful of blood onto the wooden floor and let out a quiet groan did you understand what happened. The man had pistol whipped him in a fit of anger. 

Your enemy let out a shaky breath, fighting his every instinct to prevent himself from shooting your father right then and there. “I’ll be generous and give you thirty seconds, Y/N. Either come with us back to the estate and begin your servitude, or stay here and see what happens.” 

You swallowed nervously, rooted in place. 

“I can’t promise you’ll like the outcome of the latter,” he stifled a laugh, “...but do as you wish.”

Hushed sobs came from your mother, heartbreaking for a multitude of reasons. The rest of your family, too, threw insults at the men and attempted to wiggle free of their grasps, though their efforts proved futile. 

These people were unpredictable, and that frightened you more than anything else. Preparing for their next move was impossible; the unknown held far more risks than rewards when it came to them, and you were aware of that. Subjecting those closest to you to a fate so uncertain would never sit right with your conscience.

“I’ll go.”

Whatever happened to you, you could take. 

A pleased smile made its way to the fiend’s lips. “Smart girl, she is,” he praised, leaning in a bit closer to your father. Y/F/N shifted away, disgusted. 

With the flick of a hand, the group of guards released your family and headed for the door.

“You have five minutes to pack your things, Y/N. Not a second longer.” 

He pressed the end of the pistol to your father’s forehead as a warning, leaving an indentation on it after he pulled it away and returned it to the holster on his hip. His hands slicked back his messy hair again out of habit, and he followed after his men to wait outside. 

Devastated, you looked around the room at the people you loved most. When, or even if, you’d see all of them again, you didn’t know. But this decision increased that likelihood to some degree, and with that, you could live peacefully. 

—

An Hour Later

The midnight sky reigned supreme high above, jet black and ominous. Sprawling tree branches loomed over the road you traveled down, cutting jagged paths and creating an eerie canopy to further entrap you. Every whizzing branch sealed your fate that much more, and here, under it all, anything seemed feasible. Your mind ran wild with the possibilities.

Even the moon cowered behind clusters of clouds, hiding itself away and refusing to offer much light to the land below. But a few distant, brave stars twinkled every now and then, giving you a small sense of hope. 

Usually, you’ve found, nature has an odd way of predicting things.

The car shimmied over the rough terrain of the road, jostling you some in your seat and adding to your already jumpy nerves. Its tires crunched as you traveled, working alongside the wildlife and insects to fill the evening air with sound. The driver looked back at you through the rearview mirror, his eyes a tense blue. They studied you carefully, for a moment, before training themselves back on the expanse ahead. You fought a shiver and pulled your jacket tighter around your body.

The forest parted more as you traveled, slowly opening up its brooding curtains little by little. Eventually, and in time with the increasing sparsity of trees on either side of you, the thick underbrush subsided. The road before you widened, and the headlights of the car illuminated a menacingly tall, wrought iron fence. Spikes pierced the air high above, serving as silent threats to anyone who dared to climb over. 

Two gargoyles guarded either side -- leering menaces. 

Kim Estate was posted in fancy lettering on a sign where the two sides met, front and center. It was polished and clean, just as expected. When two suited staff members emerged from the booths on either side of the road and released the lock, the sign glinted as it caught the attention of the car’s headlights in just the right way. With the way it sliced through the reflecting light, it resembled a blade. 

Your driver nodded to the man on the other side of his window before pressing the gas again, and you slid yourself closer to the window in anticipation. Despite your circumstances, you couldn’t ignore the curiosity in your system.

Once the car rounded one last curve, the manor finally came into view. Truthfully, it looked like something a royal family would live in. 

Lampposts dotted the grand driveway, showering soft golden light down to guide those coming and going. A sizable fountain greeted you at the center of it all, complete with an angel statue at its top. Water cascaded over its marble rim, catching the rays of two underwater lights on its way. Large flower beds stretched out on either side of the grassy area around it, wavering gently in the late-night breeze. 

The house itself stretched far and wide from left to right and featured three floors, from what you could tell. Two halls extended on either side as well, reaching out and beckoning brave visitors inside. Its appearance was a mix of Gothic and Mediterranean, thanks to the Kim family’s own personal tastes and circle of friends. With those closest to them insisting on such a style and ensuring that they had certified architects to complete such a daunting task, it only made sense for them to graciously accept it. 

And, in its own ways, it held a mysterious charm. The slight frost of its windows veiled what was going on inside, adding to the secrecy it possessed. Every arch and peak told a story, built by hands long-gone; they were situated up high, keeping watch over the land and its inhabitants. The designs so carefully etched there, sprawling and winding their ways into elaborate patterns as they connected with one another, were the eyes of the place. 

The angel was merely a façade. 

Shortly, your door was opened for you by a thin woman. She couldn’t have been more than twenty five years old. Her cheeks were rosy as she extended a gloved hand to you, aiding your departure from the car. She subtly nodded to an unseen figure behind you once you were out, and the sound of the trunk opening filled the otherwise quiet night air. 

“Follow me, please, Miss.” Her voice was kind; far softer than you had imagined it’d be. 

She led you through the main doors, keeping her pace slow enough to allow you ample time to take in your surroundings. 

Torches burned in various places, all stationed methodically to fit the aesthetic and offer just enough light. They flickered near the art pieces that adorned the walls of the entryway, casting shadows of battles and conquests here and there. 

A final embrace between two ill-fated lovers called from the end of the hall, larger than all the rest. Bittersweet smiles graced their faces as they peered at one another, finally having broken free of the tenacious arms holding them back. Their bloodied hands reached out for each other, barely brushing; but the flickering light changed their cruel fates, however, by closing the gap anytime a draft picked up. It offered them what they sought in those final moments: the simple pleasure of peace, together. 

Your eyes lingered on it until you were instructed to round a corner, passing it by. Up close, you could see a flower tied to the man’s belt, waiting and ready to be given to his love. Its white petals were painted with droplets of crimson, somehow – strangely – making it all the more beautiful. 

The woman’s flat shoes clicked against the floor as she led you further into the manor, through another hall. Here, the paintings were far more vibrant and lighthearted. Cherry trees blossomed from one frame to another, scattering their shimmering petals across the hall as they so pleased; women dressed in traditional clothing frolicked in a rich field of green, baskets in hand. They held their hats down, tipping their chins to prevent them from blowing away in the breeze.

At the far end of the hall, where you were headed again, a portrait hung proudly. A single woman was shown in it, smiling softly for her admirers; her eyes smiled, too, and you found yourself able to breathe again the longer you looked at it. She looked regal, dressed to the nines, yet approachable. A kindness gleamed in her eyes, full of power.

Amid the darkness of all the rest, this space was a bright reprieve. This woman. 

Your lips tugged up, ever so subtly, as you exited the hall, replaying the vision of the woman in your mind as you went. You knew she’d stay with you, then, and you were happy with that notion. Perhaps this endeavor would be a little more bearable that way. 

“The heiress is in her study,” a voice informed, pulling you from your thoughts as you entered a foyer. A large staircase laid in front of you, branching off widely once it climbed its way to the second story. Frilly garlands adorned its rails and spindles, making it look more inviting. 

A man came into view, clean cut and professional. His hands were clasped behind his back in a relaxed pose, putting you at ease. 

“Give me a moment and I’ll see if she’s ready to greet you.”

“Yes, sir.” You bowed politely, and he returned the gesture before heading off. 

A moment later, the woman beside you spoke. “For now, I’ll make sure that all of your luggage has made it to your room, Miss.” She smiled gently at you, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Once you meet with the Lady, I’ll be waiting to tell you all about what’s expected of you.”

“Thank you, ….” You trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the blank for you.

“Yoohyeon,” she finished, dipping her head slightly – shyly. 

“Thank you, Yoohyeon.” Her smile deepened at the way you said her name, though you didn’t notice it. “I appreciate your kindness more than you know.” 

“I’m happy to be of assistance.”

Her humbleness surprised you, given that you were expecting everyone beyond that fence outside to be pretentious – at least to some degree. But no malice existed in her, as far as you could tell; for your own sake, you hoped that assumption was never proven wrong. She might be capable of making the next few months survivable, if it stayed true.

She left a moment later with a word of goodbye, leaving you alone and to your own devices.

Your hands hung at your sides, mindlessly toying with the ends of your sleeves as you waited. A few stray staff members passed by silently, stopping only for a brief second to observe you before they moved on with whatever they were doing. Some stayed longer than others, though, lingering in the shadows of the halls or kitchen to investigate further. You were new meat here, and you knew it; blaming them for their curiosity wasn’t something you cared to do. You just hoped they’d be civil once their gossiping phase ran its course.

“Ms. L/N,” a familiar voice said, grabbing your attention again. You raised your head, meeting the gaze of the man from before. 

“Mrs. Kim will see you now, if you’ll just follow me. I’ll take you to your quarters once you’ve been introduced.”

You nodded politely in response, and he smiled. He turned on his heel, enticing you to tread after him in pursuit. His form led you to a grand room just behind the stairs, where he delivered two swift knocks to its door. 

“Come in,” a distant voice responded, feminine in a beautiful way. 

He stepped through the threshold and welcomed you inside, ensuring his face appeared stoic. You thanked him and entered, doing your best to seem confident.

Any chance of that crumbled the second you laid eyes on her. 

The woman from the painting sat behind a massive oak desk, clad in a floral dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Glasses rested across the bridge of her nose, pushed up gently by her fingers as she raised her head to look at you. It tilted curiously, presumably due to the awestruck look on your face. You’d always been terrible at hiding your emotions in situations like this.

“Y/N, yes?” She asked, wanting to make sure she got your name right. Such a thing was important to her.

Stacks of papers rested in front of her, some splayed across the desk while others were neatly organized. She must’ve had a busy day.

“Yes, ma’am.” You bowed, suddenly snapping back to reality and remembering your place. You dropped eye contact, afraid of overstepping this early on.

She stood from her chair and approached you slowly, taking her time as her eyes trekked up and down your body. They lingered in places they probably shouldn’t have, though you were none the wiser. She noticed the way your chest rose a little faster than before as she stepped closer. It intrigued her.

Wordlessly, she raised a hand to dismiss the man behind you. 

As he shut the door behind himself, your nerves truly began to kick in. The woman before you already had more power over you and your future than either of you realized. Whatever she did or didn’t do, whatever decisions she made, she was deciding for the both of you. From now on, your destiny would depend on her every whim.

That kind of vulnerability terrified you.

“Look at me.”

You blinked a few times, cautiously returning your gaze to her expectant one. 

It was riddled with curiosity, but not the kind of eager children. She’d done this many times before; she had things that she was searching for in you. A criteria you needed to meet. 

Her right hand raised to your cheek, giving you half the urge to flinch. But instead of being met with a slap, you felt her fingertips press against your jawline, turning your head to the side. She inspected you, admiring the curve of your face and how soft your skin was against hers. She turned it back, doing the same to the other side before taking a small step back. 

“Turn around.”

Warmth spread to your cheeks, but you did as she asked. Her gaze was heavy on you, training itself on the subtle lines of your muscles that were visible through the form-fitting shirt you wore. As you lifted your arms at her request, they tensed and shifted, almost dancing for her.

She was pleased; you’d suit her just fine.

“Alright, that’s all,” she said, retreating to the edge of her desk. The backs of her legs pressed into the polished surface, keeping her grounded. 

Her arms crossed loosely at her chest. You turned around, happy to be facing her again. She was a sight for sore eyes in every sense of the phrase. 

"I trust that your ride here went well," she stated, giving enough opportunity for you to confirm or deny it. 

"It did, ma'am." Your lips pressed together as you nodded, out of habit.

She smiled lightly. Had your answer been anything short of what it was, she would've had someone's head for it. 

Her reputation was important, after all.

"I'm glad, Y/N.” Her tone and aura were as warm as the fire that burned in the hearth across the room. It made you want to be close to her; she was capable of drawing you in without even trying.

She turned her wrist over in time with the drop of her eyes. A quick glance at the thin watch that rested across it shocked her.

“Gosh,” she breathed, her eyebrows raising. “...seeing that it's already so late, I won't ask you to do anything tonight." She promised. “You’ll begin tomorrow morning, eight o’clock sharp. I’m to be dressed and ready promptly for a breakfast with some investors.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you nodded. 

Her eyes found yours again, softening a little. The light offered by the fire casted on her, making them sparkle in a subtle kind of way. The dark brown of them was a touch lighter; speckles of a hidden richness that typically laid dormant, waking up. You had to be looking to see it, but that made it all the more special to you. 

“Ezekiel will show you to your room,” she informed, reaching beside herself for a bell. It rang twice… ding, ding… before the door glided open behind you.

“Good night, Y/N. Sleep well.” A gentle smile rested on her lips as she said the words.

“Good night, ma’am.”

With a final bow, you were escorted out and towards your room, leaving behind an incredibly interested heiress. Her expectations were exceeded by you; respectful, calm, beautiful. Though she’d heard of your existence through the grapevine a few times – details of your family rolling off the tongue of her father or other business partners – she’d never gotten to know much about you individually. But now, with the prospect so conveniently perched right in front of her, she’d never been more intrigued. 

—

The Next Morning

*beep be-beep beep be-beep*

The sound of your alarm was both welcome and nerve-racking. It set you in motion in an instant, and you had it turned off before it could muster up a second set of rings. Truthfully, you hadn’t gotten much sleep. Your unfamiliar surroundings, paired with the pressure you felt to perform well, prevented you from resting easily. But, for what time you had managed to slip away to dreamland, you were grateful; it was enough. 

You parted ways with your bed with a sleepy yawn before heading to the restroom to get cleaned up and ready for the day ahead. After you were presentable, you made your way towards the heiress’s room.

Softly, you delivered two knocks to the heavy wood of her door.

After waiting a customary few seconds, you let yourself in and shut it behind yourself, being mindful of the latch. When you did, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Her room was a beautiful utopia, full of the summer sunshine that cascaded in through the flowy, white drapes of her tall windows. A dreamy haze had settled over everything, coating it in stardust. The furniture around her room was of the highest quality fabrics and materials that money could buy, and every embellishment and decoration surely cost more than your entire life savings. The paintings that adorned the walls were just as unique and special, all authentic pieces depicting artistic moments of life.

It was a far cry from your simple room, and it all gave you the urge to rub your eyes, just to make sure you weren’t seeing things. 

When your shock began to subside, you focused your mind back on the task at hand and approached the bed. Mrs. Kim was clad in a silky, yellow nightgown, sprawled haphazardly and still in the throes of sleep. The covers were pushed down to her knees, revealing how her gown had ridden up her thighs as she’d tossed and turned throughout the night. Her hair was splayed across her pillow in every direction imaginable, and yet she looked just as elegant as always.  

How lucky you were to get to see her in such a peaceful state.

“My Lady,” you tried, hesitant to wake her when she looked so comfortable.

She turned her head and sighed in response, still fast asleep. You’d have to try harder. 

“Ma’am,” you called, putting a hand on her shoulder. You shook it slightly. She twitched, finally pulled from whatever dream she had been having. 

Her eyes peeked open as she looked at you, feeling a little sheepish. She was convinced she looked a mess in the mornings, no matter what people told her. 

“Hi,” she sleepily smiled, raising her arms above her head as she stretched the tension out of them. 

“Good morning,” you grinned. 

She sat up and looked at her bedside clock, running a hand through her hair to tame her locks back into place. “Right on time, Y/N,” she noted, clearly pleased, “...off to a good start.”

A word of gratitude left you on instinct, and you were thankful for such a reflex. Had you not had it, you would’ve kept staring at her in awe and embarrassed yourself to no end. 

“I have to be at the dining hall in an hour,” she informed, as she stood up and headed towards the bathroom that was attached to her bedroom. You followed behind her, listening intently as she filled you in. “The breakfast will take a couple of hours, most likely. I cleared my schedule for the rest of the day to allow you time to familiarize yourself with everything, so you won’t have to worry about me. I’ll likely stay busy in my study.” 

Your jaw went a little slack as you crossed the threshold and stepped into her bathroom. The sheer size of it caught you off guard, as did everything else. A vanity sat on the right side, shining and glittering with bottles upon bottles of every product in existence. The tub was directly across from it, large enough to fit upwards of three people at a time. The toilet itself looked like a mini throne, and you had half the urge to laugh at how ridiculous the situation was. One stone from its handle could likely pay off every bit of debt your father owed in the first place.

“I’ve assigned Yoohyeon to be your guide for the day,” Mrs. Kim spoke again, drawing you from your daze. “You should’ve met her last night.”

“I did.” You assured her.

“Good.” Her reply was short and sweet.

She glanced at the empty tub, silently prompting you. You sprung into action at once, mentally scolding yourself for not having the water ready. Getting used to this new routine would certainly be full of moments just like this, as much as you disliked it. 

As you filled the tub and made sure the temperature was just right, she took her gown off and removed her earrings, setting both on the marble countertop of her vanity. You retrieved some oils and scents from the cabinet that hung overhead and quickly added them to the water as it flowed from the faucet. The motion of it made plenty of suds appear in no time. 

In the name of sparing your pride and maintaining her privacy, you averted your gaze as she gracefully stepped into the deep tub. Her body was soon enveloped by the mountains of bubbles as it sank down below the surface, further and further. Only then did you turn the water off and kneel down beside her. 

To ensure that the water remained warm for the entire time she was in it, the two of you worked simultaneously. While you shampooed and conditioned her hair, she used a delicate loofah to wash her body. You assisted with her back and other hard to reach areas, but she was self-sufficient in every other way. For that, you were grateful. You’re convinced you would’ve died if she had been the type to make you wash her yourself. Sharing such an intimate interaction with anyone would’ve been bad enough, but with her? Someone you found so attractive? No, you wouldn’t have survived it. 

She must’ve been aware of the effect she had on you, because she made sure to keep a ring of suds around herself at all times. Modesty bubbles, she declared them, to put you at ease on your first day. You were both aware that time would allow for more adjustment and comfortability when it came to things like this, and patience was something you had for one another. In the meantime, you traded jokes and splashes of water to loosen up and shake off any awkwardness you felt. 

By the time you emerged from the bathroom, she had deposited a handful of bubbles on top of your head, and a generous dollop of them rested on the tip of her nose as well, courtesy of you. 

You approached her closet and sought out the suit that Yoohyeon had told you she’d need last night. As you flipped through the seemingly endless row of clothes, all strung up on hangers, you felt the heiress come up behind you. The towel around her body stayed bound in place as she reached up and wordlessly got rid of bubbles for you, laughing all the while. 

You shook your head at her with an amused smile as you retrieved her outfit and turned around, holding it up. You intended to make her bed while she got dressed, and so she waited until you had your back turned to drop her towel. 

The sound of it landing on the hardwood floor made your heart speed up, but you made a vow not to think too much of it. Your hands buried themselves in the covers, tugging hard to snugly put them back into place.

The rest of the hour flew by as you helped her fix her hair and complete the subtle makeup look that she chose for the day. Truthfully, you wished you could’ve had a little more time with her to yourself before she had to go. But, it wasn’t your place to want something like that, and as the two of you walked your way towards the meeting room, you made peace with just being in her presence for what little time you had left. 

She reciprocated subtly, without you even recognizing it: normally, her strides were fast, but with you at her side, she slowed them immensely. When you matched her pace, she smiled. 

Shortly, you rounded the corner to the hall that housed the meeting room.

Yoohyeon came into view, rocking up unto her tippy toes and back down to occupy herself as she patiently waited on your arrival. Her hands were behind her back, clasped but fidgeting, and her eyes regarded the fancy ceiling design as if she hadn’t seen it everyday for the past three years of her life. 

When she heard your approaching footsteps, she snapped back to reality and lit up as bright as a Christmas tree. Her smile was so warm you couldn’t help but reciprocate without even trying.

Mrs. Kim traded greetings and pleasantries with her once the two of you had joined her, and you did the same. Before you could talk for very long, though, the heiress had to wrap things up. 

“Take care of her, Yoohyeon. Show her everything; I want her to know her way around the place.” She instructed.

The younger girl bowed respectfully, reassuring her. “I’d do nothing less, my Lady. She’ll know the place like the back of her hand in no time.”

Mrs. Kim grinned, looking between the two of you. It seemed as though she wanted to say something more as her eyes lingered on you a second longer than usual, but the door beside her opened before she got the chance to. It was her husband.

His brow raised expectantly, and an air of impatience seemed to leak out of the room behind him through the open doorway. You peered inside, finding a few balding men all sitting around a large table with annoyed expressions on their faces. It made you grimace and wish to send your condolences to the heiress before she had to enter.

“I’ll see you after,” she said, regarding you. 

You bowed and offered a word of good luck to her before she disappeared into the room behind Mr. Kim. 

Muffled sounds of discussion instantly began, unintelligible to you through the thick walls.

Yoohyeon smiled at you and linked her arm with yours, leading you away. She was clearly excited to have been gifted such a task; her other responsibilities had grown monotonous, making her less than fond of them. But now she had the opportunity to wander about the estate with you and see everything through new eyes. She couldn’t have possibly been happier. 

-

She took her job seriously, much to your relief. No stone was left unturned as she showed you around and explained the heiress’s weekly schedule to you.

Areas and rooms existed for just about every possible task imaginable. Every time you thought the tour was over, Yoohyeon would inevitably lead you up more stairs or turn another corner and down a new hall to discover. Meeting halls, dining rooms, ballrooms, personal quarters, kitchens, studies, recreational areas, specialized spaces for the arts, even an indoor swimming pool – they all blended together, creating the complex and intricate layout of the manor.

“An art instructor conducts lessons for her on Tuesdays and Thursdays at noon,” she had said, as she let you peep into the expansive art gallery. It housed tons of paintings and sculptures from far and wide, all acquired by the Kims in some way. A few were originals, done by the heiress’s father. 

“She’s enrolled in two language courses to broaden her horizons in the business world.” Yoohyeon informed, as you passed by one of the executive meeting rooms. Books full of practice materials were all perfectly shelved inside, peering back at you from beside a menacing desk. “Those are held on Mondays and Wednesdays at three o’clock sharp. Don’t be late,” she warned, sending a tense look your way. “He’s a pain in the ass to deal with if she arrives late, and neither of you want to be on the receiving end of his ranting. Trust me.”

The outside was much the same, as you worked your way through acres of land complete with gardens (both botanical and for farming), stables, pastures, coops, ponds, a lake, and a racetrack. The lavishness caught you off guard, but you did your best to hide it and stay composed. On the inside, though, you were like a kid in a candy store. You wanted to get lost in your own personal exploration of it all.

By the time you had made your way back inside, you felt like you’d been gone for a week. The miles that you had hiked were weighing heavily on you, but it was the best kind of exhaustion. Your body may have been tired, but your mind was anything but. 

The sound of Mr. Kim’s voice made its way to your ears as you rounded the corner, at Yoohyeon’s side. He kissed his wife’s cheek before whispering a word of goodbye and exiting towards the carport. 

She watched him go, looking just as tired as you.

“Ma’am!” Yoohyeon called, waving to her once she turned in your direction.

Her face lit up upon spotting the two of you. “Ah, Yoohyeon. Y/N.”

The gloss on her lips shimmered as she smiled, taking in the sight of you in your uniform. You looked even better then than you had that morning.

“What brings you this way?” She addressed Yoohyeon.

“We were just finishing up our tour,” she explained, motioning to you with a tilt of her head. “The library is our last stop.”

“I could show her,” the heiress suggested, perking up a little. You were ignorant as to why she would be interested in such a task after spending hours in a meeting, but the last thing you would do is turn her down.

“Would that be alright?” Her voice was light, concealing the hidden hope that laid beneath. 

Your body felt the urge to blush when you noticed the sweet way she looked to you, waiting on your decision with polite nonchalance. The smile on her face didn’t help anything either. 

“Of course, ma’am.” 

Her grin only deepened. “Fantastic. Shall we go now?”

You nodded, allowing Yoohyeon to step past you as she switched places with the heiress. She touched your shoulder as a way of saying goodbye. 

“I’ll get started on my other tasks,” she announced, bowing.

“Thank you, Yoohyeon. We’ll see you later.” The heiress dipped her head down in response, full of respect for her employee. She couldn’t imagine life without her and the rest of the team.

The younger girl smiled as she turned away; something about her resembled sunshine no matter what she did, and now was no different. Even the way she walked was cheerful.

Once she disappeared around the corner of the hall, Mrs. Kim addressed you again.

“Right this way.” 

You walked in pleasant silence, simply taking in the hallways and rooms that you passed by on the way. Various workers greeted you; their jobs were easily discernible based on the color of their uniforms. 

Green was reserved for the gardeners and landscapers, white for the chefs and waiters, and traditional black and white for the maids and male servants alike. 

Those designated as greeters outside were dressed in all black, providing a sleek and pristine first impression to anyone visiting the estate. They specifically were made to look prim and proper at every given moment. One too many wrinkles could cost them their job if they weren't careful.

And you could tell they envied the others for that exact reason.

Some of them watched you through the soaring windows of the main hall, scoping you out like predators monitoring their prey. Feeling self-conscious, you averted your gaze and put a bit more distance between yourself and the heiress. That’s what they seemed to be so interested in, anyway. It was obvious that some of them were jealous that a new-comer like you was being awarded such a moment with her. 

“Don’t mind them,” she spoke, more aware of the situation than you thought. She stepped around you so that she was next to the windows, wordlessly blocking you from their view. 

It shouldn’t have surprised you that she was paying such good attention without making it glaringly obvious, given that that was her M.O. Always being aware of the little things is what she did best. But even still, you were taken aback by it all. 

“Yes, ma’am,” you replied, bowing your head. 

She cut her eyes at the workers that still dared to glare at you, and eventually they retreated to their stations to do something productive with their time. Only then was she satisfied. 

The library gleamed in its full glory, shining brighter than ever as you arrived at its doors. Intricate patterns decorated the outside of it, wrapping around one another and flowing in various directions. It was fitting that such a place would be adorned with such poetic embellishments.

From your side, she watched you take it all in with a smile on her face. 

Tucked just out of your view, someone inside rose from their chair. They dusted their uniform off and opened the door, stepping outside of it to hold it open for the two of you. 

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Kim.” They greeted, bowing in respect. When they noticed you at her side, they extended you the same courtesy. 

She thanked them and led you in, walking slowly so you could revel in yet another moment of awe as you looked around. Books of all kinds – old, new, domestic, foreign, small, large, short, lengthy – resided in their rightful places among the shelves that soared above, nearly touching the ceiling. The smell of their pages painted the air, enriching the room with their combined stories and adventures. Torches and candles all illuminated the space in strategically chosen places; all of their flames were covered to protect the books, but they still burned bright enough to guide you every step of the way, no matter what avenue you chose to stroll down. 

Hours and hours of information and fiction alike lined the shelves, creating nooks and crannies that you could get lost in for God knows how long. They were all organized to a T, completely in order. It was overwhelming, if you were honest, and daunting to take in all at once. But the heiress seemed to sense that, and so she put a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“We can visit here every so often and work through the different sections together, if you’d like. I know it’s a lot.”

“I’d love that.”

“Then it’s settled.” Her smile lines appeared as she said the words, and you unconsciously mirrored her.

“How about we start with the poetry wing for now? You can choose any book that catches your eye.”

“That sounds great.”

With another warm smile, she nodded and led you over to it. She set you loose, free to explore the rows and rows of content until you were satisfied. Your fingertips brushed over the spines of the books as you passed them, ambling about as you read the titles etched there. She herself meandered in your wake. Anytime she heard a sound from you – whether it be one of surprise, excitement, or intrigue – she found herself peeking around the shelves or between breaks in the books to catch a glimpse of you. You were oblivious the entire time, but she didn’t mind; something about that made the moment all the more special for her. 

She didn’t need your eyes on her, like everyone else. Simply admiring your innocent joy was enough for her, and she was able to be the beholder for once. It was a welcome change. 

A few more minutes passed before you returned to her. By then she had chosen a book as well and was already thumbing through its pages. 

“I’ll go with this one,” you declared, proudly holding yours up in the warm light of the room so that she could see which one it was. The smile on your face warmed her heart.

“Good choice,” she praised. “I’ve read that…” she paused to think, tapping her chin, “...ten times since it was published.”

Your eyes widened immensely. “But it just came out a few months ago!”

She shrugged, attempting to hide the smug smile on her face. “It’s just that good. What can I say?”

You began to ramble on about how you’d been dying to get your hands on a copy of it ever since you heard that it was being released, and she listened intently. She learned that the author was one of your favorites, and that surprised her. You had that in common.

Something shifted in her eyes the longer she watched you, all eagerness and poorly concealed excitement. It made her want to participate – to do whatever she had to in order to keep you like that, forever. You were simply radiant, and she’d do whatever it took to protect that happiness for as long as possible. 

“Let me take you somewhere,” she offered, speaking again only once you were finished. “I think you’ll love it.”

Your brows furrowed slightly as you looked up at her. “But what about your work?”

She shook her head. “It can wait.”

You grinned, and the gesture was far cuter to her than you realized. “Then let’s go.”

-

Your feet crunched against the dirt path that wound beneath them, arching up the incline of the hillside that presided over the mansion. You spotted the heiress in case she fell, keeping a careful eye on her as the two of you climbed. Within a few short minutes, you reached its peak and felt your eyebrows raising as the view before you came into focus.

A sprawling cherry tree stood tall next to a quaint bench, both of them overlooking the distant city. The two of you went and sat down, placing your books beside yourself. 

The spot gave you a gorgeous view of the town and forest alike, as well as the mountains that surrounded you. Fog settled along the dips and plateaus of them, visible against the backdrop of rich, dense green. 

People trodded their way about below, all moving past one another with their own responsibilities and schedules in mind. From what you could make out of the outskirts of the town, farmers were returning from their fields after a long day of hard work.

“Wow, Mrs. Kim. This is…. wow.”

She giggled lightly, amused. “I knew you’d like it.”

Dusky twilight painted the sky, with clouds that looked like carefully crafted brushstrokes taken straight from a storybook. The city lights stretched far and wide; residential and corporate buildings alike all switched them on in preparation for the night ahead. Some were hazy and dull, nearly burnt out – but others glowed brightly, cutting through the darkening atmosphere as they fought to be seen. Little beacons, spread amongst the winding streets and alleys. Their shades varied along the spectrum of colors, but that made them all the more unique and interesting to look at. Ones that were partially concealed could be discovered the harder you looked, and the more vibrant ones could serve as way points and markers on the mental map you had constructed in your mind. They were like shimmering stars in the night sky, creating their own constellations for you.

But they felt so far away from where you sat, and seeing them only made you think of your family; as beautiful as they were, you couldn’t stop your mind from taking it there. You hoped they were doing well, all things considered. Leaving them had been one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do in your entire life. 

It didn’t matter that they were only a number of miles away. As long as you were at the estate, they were practically on Mars. 

“You’re thinking about them, aren’t you?” 

Her voice was quiet and gentle, easing you out of your thoughts instead of abruptly pulling you away. She knew you’d need moments like this in order to deal with the change you were being subjected to.

You could feel the way your smile had faded. 

When you nodded, a wave of guilt washed over her. She already had a strong dislike of the way that you were chosen and brought to the estate, but that was out of her hands, just like a majority of other things. A large part of her heart felt for you, knowing you were just as powerless in the situation as she was. 

The worried, homesick look in your eye was enough to conjure up every ounce of pity she had available.

“I just hope this arrangement will go smoothly,” you said. “I hope they're okay.”

She understood you completely. “You’re free to write to them.”

“Really?”

She nodded, smiling softly as the light returned to your eyes at the thought. 

“I appreciate that.”

“It’s nothing,” she dismissed, waving a hand in the air. “You deserve more,” she whispered, almost under her breath. But you heard it, whether she knew that or not. 

The two of you sat there for a while, just soaking in the remaining daylight that was fading quickly. The sun had already disappeared behind the mountains, and you knew it was only a matter of time before inky blackness took over its reign for the night.

Your books laid forgotten beside you until it was time to go. Although this was the perfect place to escape the world and read, it was impossible to pry your eyes away from the beauty around you.

She led you back down the hill as you shot one last look at the city over your shoulder, imprinting the image in your brain. Though your circumstances were far less than ideal, you were grateful for the opportunity to see it all in such a way. From up here, it held a kind of sparkle that was hidden away everywhere else. It shined in its own way, unlike anything else you’d seen before. 

-

The Estate

Two servants greeted you at the doors of the dining hall as you slid your book into the deep front pocket of your uniform. Sensing the nervousness that had sprung up on you, Mrs. Kim sent a reassuring smile your way as you stepped inside with her. Your hands fiddled with the frills of your uniform along your thighs. 

A waiter was finishing his job of setting the table as you took your seat next to the heiress. She sat at the head of the table; the opposite end would be occupied by Mr. Kim. 

Given that you were her personal maid, of course, you were guaranteed a spot at the table. The senior maids and servants were extended the same courtesy, but everyone else ate dinner in their own quarters or separate dining halls, whichever they preferred. Unless a problem arose or the Kims felt generous, that configuration wouldn’t change. 

That fact only heightened the pressure you felt to stay in line. You were afraid that even the smallest of slip ups would wreck things. This place was far too regal than you were used to; too much was at stake at any given moment, and being surrounded by the most influential people of the estate scared you more than you cared to admit. 

But the heiress trusted you enough to give you this in, despite it only being your first official day. Something told her that you were capable of handling it, and that accounted for something. If for nothing else, you would do your best to keep it together for her. 

More waiters and chefs flitted in and out of the room, setting out trays and dishes of steaming food across the length of the table top. Your stomach grumbled lightly as the smells of them made their way to you. Such a wide selection was foreign to you; at most, you were lucky to have a main dish with a side or two back home. But this was a feast fit for royals; no expense was spared in it, and you knew in your heart that it wasn’t something that was reserved for special occasions. This was a typical dinner, here, and that filled you with an eagerness that could only sprout from a situation like yours – coming from humble beginnings, and now thrust into a life of luxury. It was unfamiliar territory in every way, and you knew it would take plenty of getting used to. 

But as the other guests began to filter in and take their seats, the instinctual way you corrected your posture and plastered on a polite smile put your mind at ease.

You could do this.

-

 An Hour & A Half Later

The hall bustled with life as everyone ate and shared discourse with one another. Genuine laughter filled the room – some suppressed, some boisterous – as it bled out into the rest of the manor. In between bites of the delicious creations the chefs had spent hours making, utensils transformed into tools of explanation, aiding the guests in conveying their stories of the day. Many of them were slap happy, too, as they sipped on the alcohol in front of them. Their glasses were always refilled before they could even reach the bottom, so it was really no wonder they were entering into various stages of drunkenness already. Their cheeks were flushed in a charming kind of way; it made them look more approachable. The professional, jarring image they always put up had slipped away by now and left them like you. Normal.

The pleasant atmosphere left you unsure of why you were ever so nervous in the first place. 

Mr. Kim thrust his glass of wine into the air, demanding a toast to commemorate your arrival. It was unexpected, but you welcomed it with a grateful smile. 

Your eyes found the heiress’s on instinct, seeking support from her without you even realizing. She grinned back, reassuring you as she tilted her glass towards yours in the air. It was the first to clink, before everyone else rushed to extend their welcome to you. The man beside you nearly sloshed his drink out from the jovial way he shoved it upwards, but his muttered apology afterwards only made you laugh. 

“To Y/N!” 

Mrs. Kim watched you over the rim of her glass as she finished her wine in one long drink. You merely sipped on yours, having no intention of getting drunk like the rest of them. You wanted to conduct yourself well, and if you expected to be able to take care of her on top of that, you knew you had to be sober.  

When a waitress approached the heiress to refill her glass, she raised a hand to stop her. She was so far gone at that point that she couldn’t fathom drinking another drop. Her skin was heated, and her cheeks were a shade of red that you’d never quite seen before. It was deep, yet bright; entirely beautiful, but also alarming. If it could speak for anything, you were sure it was a harbinger of the terrible hangover she would have in the morning.

Her movements were slightly altered as she reached for the apple that rested on the tablecloth in front of her. It wasn’t something you had expected for her to request, but you learned that whenever they’re in season, she asks that the chefs surprise her from time to time and send her the best looking one from their batches. The one in her hand was no exception, either; it looked fresh out of a storybook. Practically plucked straight from one of its pages.

She grabbed the handle of her knife as she inspected the fruit, picking a place to begin cutting. It made you nervous, though, and on instinct you placed your hands over hers to stop her. 

“Let me,” you offered, taking the knife from her. 

She agreed with a cute little nod.

Before long, you had it sliced and ready for her to eat. Carefully, you sat the knife on your plate and put the cut pieces on her napkin. The corner of her lips pulled back in a lopsided, lazy smile as she reached out for one.

When it disappeared beyond her lips and she took her first bite, she let out a quiet noise of approval and closed her eyes. It was sweet and juicy, just like she wanted. Her favorite variety never failed her. 

“Here,” she suddenly said, gaining your attention.

You glanced down at her hand, finding it extended to you with a slice outstretched. She wiggled it, but before you could grab it she pulled it away. Confused, you looked at her again. Her mouth only opened in response, instructing you on what to do. She held it up to your lips, and after a moment of hesitancy you opened your mouth to receive it. 

Her breath caught in her throat at the way your lips wrapped around it, and she swallowed hard at the sight. Some of the juices from it began to dribble down your chin, but she was quick to swipe them away with her finger and clean you up.

Your stomach flipped when she brought it to her lips, tasting the juice like it was nothing. 

The tips of your ears warmed despite the innocence of the gesture, and you directed your attention to the floor as you finished chewing. If she was aware of what she had just done to your gay heart, she didn’t show it. 

Depending on how you looked at things, that could be a blessing or a curse. 

The remaining time you spent in the dining hall passed by in a flash. That moment with her left you speechless, and it occupied your mind in a way that allowed no room for any more small talk or jokes with the guests around you. Tales of the weeds that the gardener had conquered that morning paled in comparison to the memory of her touch; the one that held the most importance was glaringly obvious. 

Even after she had excused the two of you from the hall and freed you to return to her room, you were still stuck up in your mind. 

That all was brought to a screeching halt, though, as the tip of her stiletto slotted into a crack in the floor.  

The fruity scent of alcohol was strong as she stumbled into you, sending the accents of it to wash over you as well. You caught her on instinct, looping an arm around her waist. She apologized for her tipsiness with an embarrassed smile, but you didn’t mind it in the slightest. 

You were able to see a different side of her, like this, as you ambled on together. Every clumsy move she made inspired laughter; her quiet giggles filled the otherwise silent night air of the manor, drawing it out of its stupor. The candles even seemed to burn a little brighter as she passed by.

Once you finally reached her room, she collapsed onto the bed with a happy sigh. The covers poofed out at the sides from her impact, drawing a smile from you. 

“I’ll go grab your things,” you informed, before slipping away. 

A muffled reply came, but seeing as her cheek was pressed against one of the pillows, it was far from intelligible. 

You returned a few minutes later with her nightgown and shawl, crossing your fingers that she hadn’t fallen asleep yet. The material was warm in your hands, having just come out of the dryer. 

“Mrs. Kim?” 

“Mmm,” she hummed, still snuggled against the side of her pillow.

“Sit up for me, please.”

“Do I have to?” A whine left her.

“Yes.”

She listened shortly after, though her eyes remained closed. Her body swayed slightly as the bed beckoned her to fall back over and sleep.

“Once you get changed, we’ll clean your face and then you can rest. Deal?”

Her eyes peeked open hesitantly, one after the other, as she nodded. 

When she grabbed the hem of her jacket to take it off, you quickly averted your eyes and excused yourself to the bathroom to get her skincare products rounded up. The darkness of the room made finding them a little difficult, but after diligently searching the shelves, her favorite cleanser, serum, and hydrating lotion all found their way into your line of sight eventually.

You sat them on the counter and entered her room again. You were curious as to what was taking so long.

When you spotted her on the bed, it was physically impossible to contain your laughter. 

“Stop it,” she warned.

Her arms were stuck above her head, tangled in the sleeves of her shirt. She had managed to wiggle free of the suit jacket, but her good fortune ended there.

“Here, let me help.”

She still heard your suppressed laughter as you approached the bed, but she didn’t scold you anymore. It was obvious that she wanted to laugh, too. 

Being mindful of her jewelry, you slid the half-unbuttoned top over her head, freeing her. For a moment, you wondered how long she had been stuck like that. 

“Can you help me with the rest?” She asked. Despite the fact that such a thing was literally in your job description, she didn’t want to order you. 

“Of course.” 

You crouched down, removing her heels before placing them neatly beside her dresser. The lack of lighting in the room helped you avoid blushing too much as you unbuttoned her pants and slid them down her legs, feeling just how smooth they were in the process. 

You reached around her next, feeling for the clips of her bra. In one motion, the two sides of it released and came tumbling down. She sighed appreciatively.

"Better?" 

She cooperated well as you slipped her nightgown over her head.

"So much," she replied.

"Good. Now let's get you washed up." 

-

She obediently sat on the chair next to her vanity, perching herself on its edge. The alcohol in her system made her appreciative of how cold its surface was against her heated skin. 

As you filled a bowl up with water and wet a cloth, she watched you through hazy eyes. 

The top few buttons of your uniform were undone, and some of your hair had fallen out of the clip that was nestled in its strands. She smiled to herself when you tucked the unruly pieces behind your ears to get them out of the way. 

“Here we go, ma’am,” you grinned. You pulled a small footrest out of its cubby beneath the sink and placed it in front of her before easing yourself down onto it. 

She closed her eyes and lowered her head, letting it hover close to the bowl as you began to clean off what makeup she had on. It was minimal for the most part, with most of the focus being on her eyes; the intricate design she had requested came off easily, though, much to your relief. 

After wiping off as much as you could with the wet cloth, you used your hands to apply the cleanser to her skin. She giggled drunkenly as you cupped her cheeks and raised her head, needing to see her better to reach all the necessary places. They were warm against your palms, completely flushed. 

Once she was sufficiently sudsed up, you used the water to rinse her off. You snagged a dry towel off of the hanger and dabbed her skin with it afterward, before setting the bowl on the counter beside her. You applied the serum and lotion evenly, noticing how dewy they made her look. Even now, bare faced and sleepy, she was still the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen. 

Mr. Kim truly was a lucky man. 

She shifted in the chair and inadvertently knocked the towel off of your leg. It fluttered to the floor before you had time to react. As you bent slightly to the side to retrieve it, only then did you notice that her lipstick hadn’t budged, despite your efforts. It was stubbornly still stuck on her lips.

“Ah, just a second,” you requested, as you put the towel to the side and took the cloth out of the bowl, flipping it over in search of a clean spot to use. She looked at you expectantly, unaware of what exactly had happened. 

Her lips were full and rosy, looking more kissable than usual somehow as you focused all of your attention on them. You couldn’t help but admire their gentle curves and arches, and the way that they parted slightly every time she drew in a breath. Using the cloth, you rubbed them in gentle strokes to remove the lipstick and gloss that colored them so beautifully. 

An aspect of the motion felt intimate. Perhaps it was how she wrapped her fingers around your forearm, embracing you in her own way. Maybe it was that her gaze seemed to have trouble finding a place to stay; it wandered from your eyes to your mouth. Possibly even the fact that she leaned in a little closer as you worked, granting you all the access you needed. 

Or maybe it was a combination of all those things. You weren’t sure. All you knew was that you needed to hurry and finish the task at hand before you did something reckless. She was alluring in a dangerous way, and you didn’t feel particularly strong enough to remain in line if she kept it up. 

She wanted to kiss you in that moment more than anything. 

To feel your lips against hers, and the weight of your body in her arms. She wanted your hands on her, touching her and caressing her in ways that she’d never felt before. From what little she had already experienced, she knew it would be Heaven. 

But she had no clue why her desire for such a thing was so strong. It had to have been the alcohol simply heightening her urges. She barely knew you, after all, and you were her employee. Perhaps it was more so the action itself rather than the person in question.

Though, when she considered it, none of her previous maids had ever even so much as turned her head. But you… you did. Something about you simply drew her in; you were like a magnet, and she had felt a certain pull to you from the second she met you. It made no sense, and never before in her life had she jumped the gun in such a way. 

Whether she was drunk or sober didn’t matter; anytime she looked at you, it was as if she had to make a conscious effort to stop. You captivated her with even the simplest of actions. And now, as you so diligently followed her routine and made sure to take care of her, something changed. Her inhibitions put themselves on pause, allowing the alcohol to override her systems of judgment and ultimately let her be reckless. 

She leaned forward, pressing her hands down against the seat at her sides in an effort to boost herself closer to you. Desperate curiosity fueled her movements – a deadly combo, making her movements clumsy.

When her lips brushed against yours, the rush of surprise you felt was impossible to hide. 

They were softer than you could’ve ever imagined as they slid over yours, sweet and inviting. Her head tilted to the side subtly as she tested the waters, wanting to brave a step forward. Demurity was present in the movement, but the reality of the situation sunk in and hit you like a ton of bricks, all at once. 

Your eyes opened wide as you pulled back, putting distance between the two of you. The tell-tale uptick of your heartbeat would’ve sold you out in an instant if she could’ve heard it.

But you were oblivious to her intentions in the worst possible way. 

A large part of her wanted you to know that she did it on purpose. Or, at the very least, to have a suspicion of that and trust your gut feeling. 

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Every possible factor about the situation prevented you from believing she wanted to kiss you. That was just simply unthinkable. The rich, married, successful heiress with one of the most important reputations in the world to uphold had the urge to kiss you? Definitely not. She was just drunk and miscalculated her movements. 

When the reality sunk in that you weren’t going to reciprocate her curiosity – or even allow her to explore it herself – she silently thanked every lucky star she’d ever had for her ability to blame her advances on the alcohol in her system and the sleep that she was in such desperate need of. Her pride could be saved and things wouldn’t have to change between the two of you.

She just prayed that you wouldn’t question her. Lying to you wouldn’t be easy when her mind was busied with the fact that you still tasted like the cherry wine that had been served with dinner. All she wanted to do was taste it again.

You swallowed nervously, still reeling. The sick, inky feeling of icy shock still coursed through your veins. It was hard to breathe, with the way that she was still looking at you; her warm eyes were full of light, even in the darkness. But you pushed the feelings away and stood up.

“I’m all done, ma’am. Let’s get you in bed now.”

She nodded and stood up, too, crossing behind you as you emptied the bowl into the sink. Its contents swirled together, pooling with one another before ultimately disappearing down the drain and into nothingness. Just like her memories of tonight would need to do. 

-

Soft frills caught her eye as she climbed into bed and pulled the blanket over herself. She reached down for the material, finding that it was the shawl you brought in earlier. Heat still hung in its fibers, residual yet plenty noticeable. It replaced what warmth she was beginning to lose as the effects of the alcohol were starting to subside, and she was grateful. The chilly evening air was beginning to seep inside, little by little. 

She wrapped it around her shoulders tightly, reveling in how it felt against her. 

You emerged from the bathroom shortly after and lingered by her bedside, not knowing exactly what to do. She had already managed to tuck herself in and get settled, so you really weren’t needed anymore. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” she spoke, breaking the quiet. “Good night.” A beat passed, far more tense than either of you expected it to be. 

You nodded, avoiding her gaze. “No problem. Sleep well, ma’am.”

She dipped her head down as you bowed, respectfully mirroring the gesture, and once you left the room she let out a heavy sigh. Her fingertips pressed to her lips, toying with them as her mind wandered. 

Little did she know that on your way back to your room, you did the same.

—---

Following that eventful first day, a professional distance was established between the heiress and yourself. It was mainly your doing, so as to keep yourself in check and guarded. The last thing you wanted to do was forget the seriousness of your arrangement and ruin the opportunity you had to give your family a better life. 

But, inevitably, and as the next few weeks bled into months, you began to get to know one another more and grow closer. With every passing day, you found that she had a funny way of lessening the divide between you; her charms chipped away at it, little by little as she disarmed your defenses.

Your time together was filled with countless memories and adventures, but a handful in particular truly stood out among the rest. Looking back, they were the ones that told the story of you. Fate was written in those encounters, present in everything that allowed them to happen just as they did, whether you realized it at the time or not. 

It would be a disservice to go without mentioning them.

1.) Spontaneity 

The heiress taught you the importance of living in the moment.

> Outside, On The Lawn <

A once-calm afternoon gave way to an evening storm of such high caliber that you were left to question what humanity had done to anger Mother Nature so severely. 

Through your fingers, you peered up at the raging horizon.

It seemed out of the blue that the clouds rushed in, claiming their throne in the sky as they overtook the bright Sun. You were left to hastily help Mrs. Kim up in response and seal up the small bag you had on your back. Out of it, you took the umbrella you packed earlier in case something like this would’ve happened. 

The two of you began your retreat towards the house, striding across the lawn as the clouds above opened up. What began as a light drizzle turned into a downpour in an instant as rain flooded down relentlessly.

“Quickly, ma’am,” you instructed over a roar of the wind, using the umbrella to shield her from the stinging droplets that pelted your skin. You took the brunt of it, only caring that she was out of harm's way. 

Much to your dismay, her pace only slowed.

“Wait, Y/N,” she said, placing a gentle hand on your forearm. 

You stopped and turned to look at her, impatient but obedient. Her eyes shined with a mischievous innocence – one that surprised you. What she had planned, you had no idea. 

Her fingers wrapped around the handle just above where yours rested as she took the umbrella away from you. When you made a move to get it back, she simply grinned and shook her head.

Before you could react, she uncovered the both of you and let the umbrella fall to the ground at your feet.

Rain instantly sprayed down on you, working to drench what areas of your skin and clothes it hadn’t reached before. The swaths of wind that continued to blow in only made things worse; they heightened the frigidity of the rain, making your breath catch in your throat at the sensation. 

But when you shot a shocked look up at the heiress, she couldn’t have possibly looked happier. 

Her shirt clung tightly to her skin, hugging the curves of her breasts and sides in a way that seemed deserving of having poetry written about it. Her lacy undergarments were becoming visible through the thin material, fading in more and more with every blast of the current. Her fancy updo – which you had spent a considerable amount of time on earlier – was undeniably ruined; strands of it fell down in different directions and ways than you had intended. Water droplets hung in the locks that came down to frame her face, sparkling with all the light they refracted.  

You couldn’t find it in yourself to be the slightest bit upset. 

The childish smile on her face, so eager and bright, took away any ill thoughts you ever could’ve had about the situation.

“Let’s go.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at her sudden command. “What?”

She giggled at your bewilderment. “Just trust me. Come on,” she quickly reassured, sticking her hand out to you. With a swift glance down at it, you shrugged and released your inhibitions. Here goes, you thought to yourself, as you placed your hand in hers. 

She wasted no time in taking that and running with it – literally. She nearly yanked you out of your shoes as she pulled you after her. 

The two of you thundered across the courtyard together, shouting into the wind. 

Your shoes made sloshing sounds amid the rain, just as soaked as the rest of you. She didn’t seem to care at all about the state that her fancier ones were in; when you came upon a large puddle that was forming, she splashed right in. 

Joyous laughter bubbled out of her when you jumped in, too. She spun you around a time or two, admiring the curve of your smile as you lifted your face to the sky. 

You couldn't help but want her to experience it, too, and so you reached out for her. 

Your arms wrapped around her waist as you stepped closer, planting your feet to keep the both of you steady. Once you sent her a nod of approval, she put her hands on your shoulders and leaned back.

She closed her eyes and let the rain fall freely all over her; it was only obstructed by the partial cover that your body provided as you hovered closely. She, for a moment, was the eye of the storm. Delicately perched in your arms, she existed amid the chaos that surrounded you. 

A candle in the wind, burning brightly. You, serving as her holder. 

Her hands reached high up to the sky, and she reveled in the chilly sensation of the water running over her palms and down her arms. Your warmth staved off a majority of the cold, making it bearable as you provided it so readily for her. Seeing the content smile on her face made it all worth it. 

But, before long, an end was brought to your plans. Mother Nature warned you more harshly, showing her anger at discovering you were still outside in the first place; the clouds above darkened, swirling in dangerous patterns as the winds mixed with one another. When a large bolt of lightning was unleashed, streaking its searing path down to Earth, you both jolted in response. 

You held your breath for a moment at the way she clung to you, her heart racing as she trembled from the shock; but you released it in the form of a laugh as she shied away, embarrassed over getting so frightened. 

You pulled her up and made sure she was alright before you took her hand again, and the two of you raced back to the manor. Cracks of lightning and booms of thunder followed you, shouting and complaining like the grumpy old neighbors you see in movies. 

When you crossed the threshold, only then did you realize your fingers had become intertwined along the way.

The gesture was small, and completely unintentional, no doubt; but there was no denying the rush of butterflies it sent to your stomach.

The heiress only let go of you when a few maids rushed in with towels in their hands, ready to dry her off as quickly as possible. They fussed over her like their lives depended on it – three sets of hands all working together to get the water off.

Another servant emerged from the hall a few seconds later and handed you a towel with an expression that resembled amusement.

“Y/N can take it from here, ladies,” the heiress spoke after a couple of minutes, gaining everyone’s attention. 

You stood up straight and raised your head, halting your efforts to dry your hair. 

“Yes, ma’am,” they replied, bowing before scurrying away. 

She turned to look at you, waiting patiently until she heard the last of their footsteps fade far into the manor, before she burst into laughter again. You joined her, unable to resist. Once the two of you wound down, you made pleasant conversation about her little surprise and meandered your way back to her quarters. 

You headed for the bathroom immediately after arriving, prepared to get her bath ready and have it cooling off. A small sense of guilt resounded in her heart when you passed her, shivering as you wrapped your towel around your shoulders. The soaked material was definitely useless to you now, and while she would be getting warm and cozy you’d be forced to watch from beside the tub. That fact didn’t sit right with her. 

“Y/N,” she called lightly, undoing the rest of her buttons before sliding her top off of her shoulders. 

“Yes?” You responded, tilting your head up and towards the open doorway of the bathroom, but keeping your eyes on the water in front of you. Steam radiated from it, swirling as you added in one of her favorite oils.

She stripped out of her long skirt and undergarments, all of them far heavier than usual with the amount of water they held in their threads. She placed them in a bin that one of the maids had set out earlier, when they first spotted the two of you outside. 

“You should take a bath, too.”

You smiled, happy to know she wanted you to be taken care of. 

“I will, don’t worry,” you called back again, adding a few droplets of soap to make some suds appear. “Once you’re cleaned up, I’ll head back to my room and take one.” 

“No.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you turned to look at her. This time, when your eyes raised up, they were met with the sight of her standing completely bare in the doorway. Your crouched position only made things worse for you, and you hastily looked away.

Welp, you definitely weren’t cold anymore. That took care of that problem.

“I meant with me, here. There’s no use in wasting more water, and I want you to be warm.” She explained nonchalantly, taking a few steps into the bathroom towards you. “I can’t have my maid getting sick, now can I?”

Your cheeks burned, likely hotter to the touch than the water in front of you.

What was it with the two of you and this bathroom?

You shook your head, aware that the absence of an answer would seem suspicious. Silently, you cursed yourself for feeling the way you did. Such a routine task for a maid shouldn’t be such a big deal; seeing her naked shouldn’t have the kind of effect on you that it does. 

You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it. 

Her hands slid onto your shoulders from behind, and you held your breath as she took the towel off of them. Her fingers tapped them lightly, silently requesting that you stand up. You turned to face her and stepped to the side, extending your hand to help her into the tub. She held it and used it to steady herself.

Once she was in, she grasped the sides of the tub and lowered herself in slowly, allowing her skin time to adjust to the heat. Cautiously, you watched as more of her body disappeared below the soapy surface. The lines of her back and shoulders tensed and shifted, making you ache in a lovesick kind of way. They were beautiful as they showcased her effort. 

Steam continued to billow up, causing the baby hairs around her face to curl.

“Come on, don’t wait until it’s cold,” she teased, though you knew the prompting behind her words was serious. 

You bit your cheek and stripped, keeping your back turned to her to spare your pride. Your position prevented you from seeing the way that her eyes glanced over to you, stealing looks on more than one occasion. Her curiosity overruled her better judgment. Part of her felt sorry for peeking, but she truly couldn’t help herself. 

Was it really so bad? Perhaps you’d be upset with her if you knew.

Once you were free of your garments, you approached the other side of the tub and carefully stepped in. She brought a hand out of the water, holding it up to you just as you’d done for her; steam radiated from it, making her look like some sort of super hero. You thanked her as you took it, getting inside with her. 

The tub was plenty big enough for the both of you, so leg room wasn’t an issue. You each stretched your legs to the right, sitting at opposite ends. Occasionally, you felt a tantalizing brush of her soft skin against you, but you did your best to block it out. 

This definitely wasn’t the environment to get even more hot and bothered in. Too many opportunities existed here for you to embarrass yourself or for her to discover your blossoming feelings.

“Nice, isn’t it?” She asked some time later, smiling to herself. Her head was laid back, resting against the edge of the tub.

You nodded as if she could see it. “Mhm.”

“Thank you for doing this.” The words came out like a sigh. 

“Running a bath?” You laughed, taken aback by her unexpected praise. “It’s just my job, ma’am.”

“I meant using all of my favorite oils and scents,” she explained, letting her hand swirl around in the water. The other still rested along the side of the tub, leaving heated fingerprints to the slightly colder surface. 

“You already know what I like,” she added. “I’m grateful to have someone as observant as you.”

You grinned to yourself, feeling proud. Knowing that she noticed and appreciated the effort you put in was enough for you. 

She spoke again after another comfortable minute passed. “And my last maid refused to do anything spontaneous, so you’re a welcome improvement.”

You chuckled at that. If spontaneity with her ended as an evening like this, you’d be a fool to deny it. Mentally, you sent a word of gratitude to whatever idiot came before you. 

Her hand absentmindedly brushed against your knee as you uttered a happy reply. 

“I’m glad you think so.”

—--

2.) Watch Yourself

The heiress showed her devotion to you in a new way, exposing you to another side of herself in the process. 

You hummed a quiet song to yourself as you tidied up some of the garlands and wreaths that were strung up across the porch of the manor. Some were handmade by the crafters of the estate, while others were gifts from friends, family, and business partners of the Kims. They were meant to welcome the season and spiff up the house – two things the heiress loved dearly. 

She sat in a rocking chair nearby, flipping through the pages of one of her favorite books. Care was put into the way she cradled it, ensuring no harm came to the precious material.

She looked up at you occasionally, when she would take a sip of the tea that rested on the flat arm of her chair. 

A handful of other servants aided you – everyone working hard in various locations – but her eyes always had a funny habit of drifting back to you. 

It began as simple curiosity. The endearing way you raised up onto your toes to reach the highest peaks of the wreaths especially made her smile. 

But that curiosity evolved into something far less innocent before she knew it. She studied the curve of your body as you bent over, reaching deep into the bin in front of you to grab another string of festive tinsel. The sleeves of your uniform were hiked up at your shoulders to offer you some relief from the heat that bogged the estate down. Your muscles flexed as you moved about, searching for the perfect piece to go along with the aesthetic that you had in mind. 

You bit your lip in the process, and it was all she could do to stop herself from openly staring. 

She cleared her throat and attempted to compose herself once you grabbed what you were after and looked up. Her heart pounded as she pretended to read again, hoping to throw you off her trail. 

She felt your eyes on her for an aching second, just as curious as she had been, before you looked away.

Part of her was disappointed, strangely. 

Regardless, she didn’t question it. Her nose remained firmly stuck between the pages of her book for the next few minutes as she did everything she could to distract herself from you. And it worked, for a while, until the lovers described in her poems all began to take the shape of you. They all had your soft smile, as she imagined them in her mind; and your pretty eyes. Their mannerisms all became yours, in one way or another. They expressed and made love in ways that she imagined you would, despite the fact that that was as far of an overstep as she possibly could’ve taken. She felt ashamed, like she was taking advantage of the mere thought of you.

Yet, why was she blushing?

-

The worn handles of the decoration box rubbed against your fingers as you carried it down the stairs of the porch and towards the fountain in the middle of the driveway. You’d been asked to decorate it, too, specifically with the ornaments and wreaths that the youngest Kims had crafted.

Each of them started as a simple ring of twigs, giving the traditional shape of a wreath. From there, the children were given free reign of what… artistic… directions and liberties they took. In many cases, fake berries and leaves were crudely wrapped around the twigs; some were glued, and others stapled. Those made by the older children were easily discernible, of course, but all of them were just as charming as the last. 

When you knelt down in front of the fountain and took out the first one, you discovered that you were smiling. 

Later, when you were finishing up, the sound of tires treading heavily on the pavement behind you grabbed your attention. A car approached, sleek and dark in every way it could’ve been; the tint of the windows was nearly jet black. 

It came to a stop halfway around the circle, obstructing your view of the porch. When the door opened and a man stepped out, your blood ran cold. 

It was the man from that night back at your house.

He was dressed in black slacks and a gray button up, both of which were mussed in an uncouth kind of way. Sunglasses sat across the bridge of his nose, just as dark as the windows of his car. He removed his cap, slyly grinning at you as he tossed it in the car and shut the door. 

His dress shoes squeaked lightly as he began his approach, reeking of a polish so strong that you could smell it from where you were. You stood up when he neared you. 

“Ah, Y/N,” he greeted, too overzealous and too fake for your liking. 

You remained silent, refusing to return the gesture. His carefully practiced smile faltered, but only for a moment.

“How is maid life treating you?” He tried. 

“It’s fine, sir,” you returned shortly. You had the desire to allow your voice to deadpan, but you decided against it at the last second. 

“Is it, really?” His voice dropped a little lower, quieting to become inaudible to anyone other than you. A wry look gleamed in his eye, making you uneasy. 

“Because your parents are really worried sick,” he pouted, before taking a look around. You stiffened at the mention of them, and he noticed. 

Shit.

“Maybe I should pay them another visit,” he suggested, smirking sinisterly. "Let them know you're alright." His feet treaded towards you when he took a couple steps closer, looming above.

Dread tightened in your chest. A sinking feeling of restriction was settling over you, but you did your best to hide that fact. Letting this man think he had power over you was the last thing you wanted. 

“I think your father and I have a few things to discuss, anyway.”

You took a cautious step back, unsure of what he planned to do next. He was definitely the type of person to resort to violence if his tactics of intimidation failed.

“No, you don’t. I’m holding up my end of the bargain by being here.”

One of his unkempt eyebrows tweaked up at the corner. He hadn’t expected you to respond like that.

“Clearly you know nothing of his past if you think that’s the only business that exists between the two of us.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as you fell silent. 

“Aww, what’s wrong?” He pouted again, mocking you. “Don’t know your daddy as well as you thought you did?”

The grimace that found its way to your face showed every ounce of disgust you felt towards him. Just as he went to invade your personal space and make another, more malicious comment, authoritative footfalls resounded from somewhere behind you.

Before you had the chance to turn around and see who the source of the sound was, a protective hand found its way to the small of your back. 

The heiress.

Her eyes were set firmly on the man, with a gaze so icy it frightened you. 

His leer faded as he recognized her; a bit of color left his face. 

“Is there a reason you’re keeping my maid from me?” Aggravation led her tone. From your position at her side, you noticed the way her jaw tensed the longer she looked at him.

“My bad, Mrs. Kim,” he soothed, too smug to apologize yet too much of a coward to ignore her outright. He attempted a smile again to ease the tension, but it soon dropped. 

She wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit,  either. 

“I suggest you leave, Dae-Jung. Now.”

He glanced at you again after that, as if deciding whether or not to say something else. Like the losing dog in a fight, he wavered; his predatory gaze lingered, stuck to you in a way that made you feel grimy. 

The subtle way Mrs. Kim pulled you in a little closer to her body deterred him; her arm snaked further around your waist, settling there. 

With a click of his tongue, he relented. 

“Have a good evening, everyone!” He shouted loudly all of a sudden, putting his hands up. The workers outside all raised their heads to see what the outburst was about. Many of them shared similar expressions of annoyance. 

“Keep up the good work for our dear Lady.” 

Contempt was written all over his face as he backed away, retreating to whatever corner of Hell he came from. You looked away, not wishing to see him for a second longer than you had to.

Instead, your eyes happened to find their way to the heiress, who remained at your side, standing tall. She intently watched his every step until he reached his car and sped off; if he had come back to start trouble again, she wanted to be prepared. And for you, she was more than ready.

“I’m sorry about him, Y/N,” she mitigated, releasing her hold on you. 

You tried not to let your disappointment show too much at the loss of contact. 

“It’s not your fault, ma’am.”

You retrieved the decoration box before joining her again.

“Still,” her head shook, frustration and dislike evident in the motion. “Dae-Jung is terrible. If it were up to me, he never would’ve been hired in the first place.”

That piqued your interest. “Who has the final say, then?”

“My father and Hyun Wook,” she answered. A hint of resentment skated by on her tone, but you didn’t point it out.

Interesting. Perhaps they knew more about whatever shady past he had. 

She kicked a stone across the courtyard as you neared the porch’s stairs. Her hands were nestled in the pockets of her dress, and she looked as though she wanted to say something more. You waited patiently as she visibly contemplated.

“If he ever causes you any trouble again – or if anyone here does, for that matter – tell me. The last thing I want is for you to be mistreated during your stay.” 

You smiled at her sincerity, feeling a little giddy. 

“I appreciate that, ma’am. Thank you.”

She nodded, seemingly relieved at your words. 

When you laid the box on the porch, leaving it out for the other servants to use later, you noticed the heiress’s book. It was laid open on the seat of her chair – not carefully shut like it should’ve been. It was askew, too, showing that she had likely thrown it down in haste. As to why she was in such a rush, you had no idea. 

The reality of that made you wonder. 

–

3.) Savior

Fate kept you on your toes, ensuring that you never got too complacent.

The smell of fresh dirt and fertilizer hung heavy in the air, pervading it as you stepped outside. Faint floral scents skated by on gusts of wind as well, but they couldn’t rival the richness of the Earth. It brought everything to life as it welcomed the changing season in full, promising abundant harvests for the year to come. 

The notion lightened your spirit as you took it in. In the city, things like this had always been a struggle; food was far more scarce for your neighborhood, and having a plot of land decent enough to produce true sustenance was a rarity. Your family had always managed to make it by, but just barely.

You wondered, then, if the heiress would allow you to send some crops back home in order to help. Surely she’d extend the courtesy, provided the circumstances.

As you smoothed out the gardening uniform you wore and made your descent over the lush yard towards the garden, you made a mental note to ask her. 

And before long, following one final turn around the corner of the supply shed, you spotted her.

Your Lady.

The sun wrapped around her, holding her tight like a sweet kiss as she thanked a passing landscaper for his hard work. He bowed kindly, the gesture full of respect. The skirt of her dress wavered in the passing breeze, rippling as it so pleased when she returned the motion to him.

Her sun hat partially obstructed her view as she turned to look at you, but the sweet way she tilted her head back to peek at you from beneath the rim made you smile. 

“There you are!” She called out, putting her hands on her hips. Her eyes squinted slightly as she braved the bright sun solely in the name of greeting you properly.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” you responded, making your way down the hill to her. The slope wasn’t too terribly steep, and for that you were thankful. 

“I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

She shook her head, adamant but easy going. “Not at all. I’ve just been enjoying the weather.”

A quick glance down at her legs gave you another insight into her solo endeavors. 

“And playing in the pond, I see.” An amused smile toyed at your lips when she looked down at them as well, reminded of her excursion. 

“And playing in the pond,” she echoed, nodding to herself. 

After that, neither of you said anything for a bit. Both of you fell into a comfortable silence as you admired the land, allowing yourselves the opportunity to take it all in. For her, the sights and sounds were pleasant reminders of the life she so graciously lived. But for you, they were new discoveries entirely. 

Birds and insects that you’d never heard before shared their unique calls, creating melodies all of their own. Some were piercing, bordering on shrill; others as soft as silk as they floated by in pursuit of one another. 

When she caught a glimpse of your innocent amazement, she couldn’t help but smile. It warmed her heart to see that you were adjusting well to the abrupt change that you went through, and knowing you hadn’t lost the curiosity that you harbored from that first day comforted her even more. Although she was aware that being at the estate wasn’t something you ever asked for, she hoped that experiences like this could remedy things to some degree. The time you were losing with your family was irreplaceable, no doubt, but perhaps you would have plenty to tell them about upon your return. That eased her conscience, at least. 

Maybe, if things were done right, even some of that initial anguish could be replaced with more happy memories like this one. 

You’d made her happier in your short time at the manor than she ever imagined you could’ve, and that meant something. 

She took you by the hand and led you to one of the benches near the pond, careful to avoid the bees and wasps that buzzed by. 

Confusion tweaked at your features momentarily, but the comfortable hold that she had on you melted it away. 

Gardening could wait until she wanted to do it, you supposed, as she guided you to sit down. 

The metal seat was warm against your body, but not hot. The sun’s energy was stored there like a reservoir, allowing you to savor the feeling of it over time. Unconsciously, you sunk into the bench a little further, truly feeling at ease. She joined you shortly after, sitting close enough that your knees brushed each other whenever you shifted around. 

The proximity was more than welcome by you, though you did your best not to make that too obvious. 

Embarrassing yourself like that wasn’t very high on your to-do list for the day.

A gathering of tall flowers wavered next to you, blowing in the breeze; as you reached a hand out to them, their petals brushed against your palm in various patterns, soft and mild. 

They were lavender plants. Such pretty things. Almost capable of holding a candle to the woman beside you. Almost.

“Isn’t it beautiful out here?” 

Her voice was airy, full of light. 

“Absolutely,” you answered, stopping your eyes from wandering anymore and instead focusing them on her again. Her cheeks were flushed, but you couldn’t determine if it was due to the heat or some sudden shyness that befell her. 

“Thank you for letting me experience it like this.” 

‘Like this’, meant with her, just the two of you, hidden away from the rest of the world as the sun worked its fateful magic on the land and added a type of sparkle that was absent during any other part of the day. It meant with her, feeling her leg bump against yours as she spun in the seat and tracked the path of a passing butterfly that was taking flight for the first time. 

But you didn’t elaborate on that. A confession that brazen simply wasn’t in the cards for you.

“You’re more than welcome, Y/N,” she assured warmly, bringing you back to your senses. The rim of her hat tilted in the way again as she turned to you, and, without thinking, you raised a hand to push it up for her. 

She stilled for a moment, surprised – just the same as you.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“It’s fine,” she chuckled, not letting you finish your unnecessary apology.

Her fingers readjusted the tie below her chin as she settled the hat into place a little better, ensuring that it would stay put from then on. 

A new kind of sparkle showed in her eyes as they glanced between yours; something rested in that shimmer, hidden like a present, waiting to be understood when the time was right. 

She moved in a little closer to you, shifting her hips with a feminine subtlety that gave you half the inclination to believe you’d simply made it up in your mind. But a hint of caution showed on her face, letting you know that she was testing something.

What that was exactly, you had no idea. But you certainly weren’t complaining. 

Unbeknownst to her, in her effort to close some of the distance between you, the heel of her shoe had scraped across a patch of grass beneath the bench, thus interrupting a bee that was feeding from one of the flowers there. 

Its buzzing grew louder, full of anger that it intended to make known. 

Just as she went to say something to you, her words were interrupted by a sudden shout of pain as the bee flew up her dress and stung her leg. 

You jumped in surprise, but after a quick explanation from her you snapped into action. Carefully, you looped her arm around your shoulders and stood up, easing the weight of her body against yours. You knew that walking would be immensely painful in her situation, so you made it a point to prevent her from feeling the effects of gravity to the best of your ability.

Her soft groans of pain filled your ears with each advancing step you took towards the manor, hasty and a bit rocky. You made sure to gently lift her a little, easing the strain on her leg. Any movement of it, though, sent a jolt of searing pain to her injury. Nevertheless, you persisted. 

She leaned into you for support and you held her close, keenly aware of her discomfort. 

Your head shook in frustration when you eventually made it inside and reached the grand staircase. It seemed to tower in that moment, daunting as you peered up at it.

At once, an idea came to mind.

“Come here,” you said, bending your knees slightly as your arm descended to her lower back. Her eyebrows raised briefly when she glanced down at you, unsure. 

“Just trust me.”

She nodded a moment later, quickly biting her lip to stifle another whine as you picked her up. Her arms wrapped around your neck securely as you began your ascent; much to her relief, the pain was far more bearable this way. As a thank you, she pressed a faint kiss to your collarbone, where her full lips had been brushing against. 

The sensation made your heart race, but you shook off the feeling. Now wasn’t the time.

Once you made it to her room, you carefully sat her down on the edge of her chair and raced to retrieve some supplies and ointment from the closet in your quarters. While you were away, she hiked the material of her dress up to her waist and examined the sting. 

Although the stinger was no longer attached, the wound itself proved that her attacker hadn’t been a bee at all. It was a hornet – something she’d had adverse reactions to in the past. 

The degree of swelling that her skin had already undergone alarmed her; if just the short journey here alone had given the venom that much power and opportunity to affect her this much, she could only imagine what it would continue to do.

You immediately picked up on her worry when you reentered her chambers, loaded up with an array of remedies to heal her. A small glimmer of comfort settled over her at the sight of you. 

“We’ll need to clean it first,” you informed, immediately approaching her and setting your supplies down at her feet. You went to your knees in front of her, quickly reaching for the bowl of soapy water you had prepared. 

Her legs parted for you without solicitation, giving you pause for a moment. 

You dipped your fingertips in the solution, generously coating them before you sat the bowl back down and moved in closer to her. A grimace pulled at your features when you saw the injury, an angry swirl of red and white. You could only imagine the pain she was experiencing. 

She hissed once your fingers first made contact with her heated skin, and you noticed the way her nails dug into the arms of her chair. When you repeated the motion a few times, ensuring the area was thoroughly clean, she bit down on her bottom lip to prevent a slew of curses from escaping. Tears brimmed in her eyes, almost spilling over. 

Water trickled down her thigh as she shifted slightly, leaving trails in its wake to glimmer in the midday sunlight that had worked its way into the room. Her legs trembled from the aftershocks, inspiring pity. 

Carefully, you patted the area dry and wiped your hands before reaching for a small tin of ointment. 

“Here, ma’am,” you soothed, dabbing the smooth cream onto her abused skin. Her fingers wrapped around your wrist when you shifted closer, softly enveloping it. You looked up at her, partially through your lashes. 

You were so beautiful to her then that she didn’t know what to do with herself.

“Call me Jiu. Please.”

A new kind of smile graced your lips, warming her heart. It was curiosity mixed with relief; like a child hearing their mother say yes to whatever plans they had concocted. She was allowing you access to a part of herself that not many people ever saw.

“Does that feel a little better now, Jiu?” You asked, testing the waters. Her name felt foreign on your tongue, but in all the right ways. 

She nodded, peering down at you. “It does.”

Her breathing stilled as you lifted her leg, slotting it over your shoulder. A look of surprise washed over her features at the contact, but it soon melted away to something else entirely when she felt your breath fan out across her thigh. 

You blew steadily, hoping to dry the ointment a little and help activate the cooling effects of the lidocaine in it. She sighed, tilting her head back. Her thumb rubbed a small circle along the inside of your wrist, just above your pulse point in a show of gratitude. 

“You’re so good to me,” she praised, smiling lazily. Your heart skipped a beat. 

“...thank you,” she added. Her voice was altered slightly due to her position, making it sound deeper than usual. Amusement was present in her tone, too, now that the adrenaline was beginning to fade and she knew she would be okay. You had such a good way of calming her down.

You bit back a relieved laugh. That could’ve ended badly. 

“Anything for you, Jiu.” You quipped back, smiling at the way she squeezed your wrist in return.

—---

4.) Sharing Isn’t Caring

Destiny promised nothing short of an ebb and flow for you, during your stay. Highs and lows, steps forward followed by steps back. It was all a process – one that required serious effort to put your trust into.

> In The Heiress’s Room <

Jiu’s fingers interlaced with yours, held up in the golden sunlight. Rays reflected off of her rings as she twisted your joined hands, admiring the show. Their patterns casted to different parts of the room in various directions, sparkling. 

The beauty of your moment, though, was quickly interrupted by an intrusive knock that rapped out against the open door. 

“I heard you’re heading out for a picnic,” Hyun Wook noted, inserting himself in a place he so clearly didn’t belong. Biting back a scoff had never been more difficult.

“We are,” Jiu responded simply, not taking his bait right from the get go. It was clear what he wanted, and you knew a man like him wouldn’t beat around the bush much longer. 

“Why don’t I join you?” He suggested, doing his best to sound genuine. He wished to appear spontaneous in a charming way; how bothersome that that had to be at your expense. 

A faint arrogance befell him when he caught you rolling your eyes in his peripheral.

Jiu looked to you, raising an inquisitive brow as if it mattered what you wanted. You lowered your gaze to the floor in response, silently surrendering. 

“Sure, Hyun Wook.”

You failed to catch the hint of disappointment that painted her tone. 

He sighed dramatically, pretending to be relieved. “I thought you’d say no there for a second,” he smirked, stepping towards her. 

The soft hold that she had had on you was lost in that moment, given up to him instead when she let go of your hand. As she politely laughed at what he said, bringing hers up to cup his cheek, you tore your eyes away from her. Jealousy simmered in your chest, hanging heavy. 

“Fetch the basket,” he ordered, raising a dismissing hand in your direction. His lovesick attention never left Jiu for a second; the sight made your stomach hurt.

Begrudgingly, you did as you were told. Before you could even make it out of the room, though, he had picked her up in his arms and spun her, earning himself another one of her laughs. 

Of all things, who would’ve predicted that that would upset you the most during your stay here?

Images of that night back in the city flashed in your mind at once, reminding you of the circumstances that brought you here in the first place. Allowing yourself to feel this way for the heiress would only complicate things more and get you into trouble; for your family, you made a vow to snap back into reality and stay there. 

The childish fiction in your head was delusion anyway – it’s not like Jiu felt the same about you. 

How could she? You pondered, grabbing the handle of the basket and taking it off of the kitchen counter with little care. You were simply her maid. A girl meant to serve her, here, in this mansion poised so highly above the struggle and bustle of the city below. After these next few months were through – once she was done with you – you’d be sent back to live whatever life you could manage, and it was unlikely you’d ever even hear a whisper of her name again. 

It was time for you to know your place and stop pretending otherwise. 

– 

Outside

With a flourish and twist, the heavy quilt in your hands unraveled in a pop of color, fanning out across the grass. Once the corners were smoothed out and tethered down into the ground, you retrieved a small pillow from the bag on your back and laid it down in the center. With practiced ease, you outstretched a hand to Jiu and helped her onto the cushion. 

Hyun Wook remained standing as you unpacked the contents of the basket and spread the containers out to the right of her. His eyes surveyed the land halfheartedly, only for show. They flitted up and over the cherry trees that were beginning to blossom, skimmed over the rippling surface of the pond, and lingered a second too long on a pair of passing maids. Against his hips, his fisted hands rested; he was posing in the way that men do when they’re aiming to impress. 

“Y/N, sit here,” Jiu directed, pointing to the open spot to her left. She leisurely removed her gloves.

Confused, you glanced between the two of them. Maids were meant to busy themselves elsewhere during this sort of thing, or at the very least sit elsewhere. As to why she was changing the rules, you were oblivious.

“Are you sure–”

“Yes.” Her word was firm, leaving no room for debate.

Hyun Wook turned around just as you sat down, and you had the pleasure of watching the expression on his face slowly sour. Had he stopped posing for five seconds, perhaps he would’ve gotten your seat.

“Where am I to sit?” He asked, voice posh and annoyed. So spoiled.

Jiu glanced at you, finding the folded blanket you were going to sit on resting across your lap. She took it and tossed it at him.

“On this.”

He caught it, but barely. You held back a snicker as he rolled his eyes. Checkmate. 

—

5.) Full Moon

Sleep refused to come to you that night.

The theater of your mind was fixated on Jiu, starring her in every production it mustered. Act One was full of her quirks and mannerisms; Act Two her humor. But Act Three, which you were firmly stuck in the middle of, comprised your every interaction. Every smile, fleeting glance, lingering touch. It all drove you mad, replaying with the apparent intention of breaking your heart.

Her scent still remained on you from before; the expensive perfume had found a second home on your skin and in the fibers of your uniform, settling there like a special secret. 

It had transferred to you in a moment of panic during the picnic earlier, when she pulled you close in search of the safety that your arms provided. Danger – what she had been evading – buzzed by languidly on its way towards another flower.

You could remember how warm her skin was, then, as her hold on you tightened. Only once you whispered words of reassurance quietly to her did she begin to calm down and relax into you. 

While you had been keenly aware of her lingering fears, given her past run-in with the wasp, Hyun Wook was oblivious. His ignorance lent itself to something similar to annoyance as he watched the scene in front of him unfold. When Jiu had put her head on your shoulder, he scoffed.

You recalled the way that she simply closed her eyes, using your steady heartbeat as a way to calm down. She pretended he wasn’t there, and before long her moment of fear subsided. Her hand found yours in your lap, and she laced her fingers with yours in a silent show of gratitude. 

Now, laying in bed, it was all you could do to try and forget the feeling. 

It’s not like you wanted to – you’d gladly spend an eternity or two getting lost in all the ways she’s touched you, no matter how insignificant – but you knew you had to forget. 

All of the feelings you had bottled up for her, stored away in your heart, were dangerous. What was platonic to her set your heart ablaze with the notion of what if; things she didn’t think twice about were stuck in your mind for days on end. But living like that wasn’t really living. 

So, you made a pact with yourself to try and get over your growing love for her. 

And if your pursuit of that was to start tonight, you’d have to take a walk. They always had a way of clearing your mind. 

-

Beneath your slippered feet, the ground was chilly. You could feel it – distant, held at bay – despite the comfy memory foam that cushioned your every step. The hallways were much the same, with their towering ceilings and numerous windows allowing the night air to sneak in. But the blanket wrapped around your shoulders staved it off, and you were at ease. 

Moonlight painted the artworks that you passed, leaving the soldiers depicted to fight shadow monsters instead of each other for a change. Their swords gleamed, catching what measly bits of candle light they could from the walls around them. The flames of them flickered gently, but burned with purpose. At an hour like this, free of the hustle and bustle of the staff, they didn’t have to worry about being blown out. No passing drafts would mark their demise. They were free to burn; and so, they did.

You followed them mindlessly, having no real destination in sight. What wandering you did in the manor paralleled the wandering of your mind; every turn put distance between Jiu and you, offering a gentle reprieve from the feelings that plagued you. The image of her faded with every hall you turned down, until it left you completely. 

In lieu of her, you focused on the moon and stars. 

Glimpses of them came to you through the large windows that arched high above, whose panes were fogged slightly from the rivaling air temperatures. 

From behind the puffy clouds, you could see that tonight welcomed a full moon. It was bright, and it coated the landscape of the estate in a gray hue. Entirely calming, and entirely unique. The night sky was free of the smog that you’d grown used to in the city; here, everything was so clear. 

Awe twinkled in your eye, matching that of the stars that shined down. Two types of beholders, both sharing a look at one another. 

Only when you heard the faint crackling of a fire did you care to break yourself free of the late-night, hazy spell that you were under. 

You blinked, looking around as you attempted to locate where you were. Realization dawned on you when you spotted an open door, cracked just enough to show you a sliver of a large mahogany desk. You’d know it anywhere.

Despite every valiant effort you had put in, your feet had managed to meander you all the way back to Jiu’s office. The last place you should’ve been, and yet the only place you really wanted to be. 

The floorboards creaked under her weight as she padded around inside. She put something on her bookshelf before bending at the waist and dragging a finger along the spines of the row in front of her. After a moment of searching, she pulled out what she was looking for. 

You pressed closer when she sat down in her chair, beside the fire. It was out of sight of the door, and, foolishly, you wanted to see her. You promised yourself that you’d just stay for a few more seconds before leaving.

But, given the luck that you’ve always lacked in life, that wasn’t what destiny had in store. 

When you took another step forward towards the door, the front of your slipper got caught on the floor. You lurched forward, lightly bumping your head into the door. 

Jiu jumped slightly, looking up to locate the source of the noise. 

“Hello?” She asked, voice light but cautious. 

Embarrassed, you brought a hand up to rub your forehead. 

“It’s just me, ma’am.”

You opened the door as you nursed your bruised ego. 

“Ah, Y/N,” she grinned, waving you in. “Come sit down.”

You shut the door behind yourself and followed her command, moving to sit in the leather chair opposite her. Part of you hoped it would swallow you up, then and there; a fate like that would be far more welcome than one as embarrassing as this. 

“You know,” she started, sounding thoughtful, “...you’re cute when you blush.”

Your heart lurched at her unexpected compliment. She really shouldn’t say things like that.

She got what she was after when you raised your head back up, no longer looking at the floor. If it was that easy to get you to look at her, she’d have to remind you of little things like that more often.

“But, Y/N, I have to ask,” she tilted her head to the side slightly. “What are you doing up this late?”

You bit your tongue when the truth tried to rush out.

“I just couldn’t sleep, is all.”

She took that at face value, nodding to herself as something came to mind.

“How about some tea, then?” She offered, using her head to motion to the stand next to the window behind her desk. Sure enough, a teapot rested there, emitting a faint stream of steam into the air. 

“I could use a refill, anyway,” she added, peeking past the rim of her cup on the table beside her. 

“Sure.”

While she headed over to fill the cups up, you took the opportunity to look around the room. The fire that she had been meticulously stoking for the past hour or two was burning well; it crackled with life every so often, emitting soft pops to remind you of its presence. Its flames reached up high, licking the air in bold stripes as they stretched into the chimney. 

A few books were stacked on the edge of the table that sat between your two chairs; two of them were poetry, and one a collection of drawings that Jiu always kept with her. On a few occasions, you’d caught her scribbling away in it or doodling when she thought no one was looking. She was always the cutest to you, then, with her tongue darting out of her mouth in concentration or her brows knitted together as she tried to get the lines perfect. 

The memories brought a smile to your face. 

“Here you go,” she said, handing the cup to you with the utmost care. You took it gingerly, savoring the warmth it radiated. 

When she noticed your hands wrapping around it, she put two and two together. Wanting to help, she tugged the edge of your blanket up and a little closer to your body.

Her hand smoothed over the top of your hair as she untucked it from the blanket and fixed it for you. She peered down, smiling to herself.

"You look adorable in those," she noted, glancing at your new pajamas. "I knew they'd suit you well." 

You paused. What?

"You got these for me?" 

Her eyes blinked… once, twice… a little confused. "Of course I did. Who else would've?" 

You blanked, rethinking things after she pointed that out. It never crossed your mind to consider who had been the one to pick them out; all that you considered certain was that it had nothing to do with her. You couldn’t imagine any other heiress being so involved in such an insignificant thing for their maid – especially one that was still relatively new. The fact that she cared that much wasn’t lost on you, and neither was the fact that she kept her special purchase a secret. 

The gesture was in good faith, and her actions only further proved that; she wasn’t seeking anything by getting the outfit for you. She simply wanted you to be comfortable, and that made you like her even more, somehow. 

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “There’s no need. Seeing you in them is enough.”

You watched her sit down, elegant despite the lack of a reason for her to be. It must’ve just been second nature to her to be so ethereal at this point.

You took a sip of your drink when she crossed her legs, hoping to distract yourself. And by God, that scalding tea did the trick.

“What’re you doing up this late?” You asked in return, once a short bit of comfortable silence had passed. She finished the drink she was taking before setting her cup down on its saucer. 

“Well, I’ve had a lot on my mind lately,” she admitted, settling more into her chair. Her back arched slightly as she sought a more comfortable position, and you weren’t strong enough to stop yourself from peeking at her body. The long gown she wore was a sight for sore eyes, with the way its simple design made it shimmer in the low light of the room. Every beautiful curve of her was enhanced by it; surely somewhere in the world it was a crime to look so good in something so plain.

“Hyun Wook is…” she rolled her eyes and grinned at you as she visibly fought the urge to call him something unsavory, “... Hyun Wook. And the meetings lately have made me want to rip my hair out. So,” her shoulders rose and fell in a defeated shrug, “...I’m a little all over the place.”

“Have you told your father that you’re stressed?”

She scoffed, though her intention wasn’t to hurt your feelings. “That’s not something he cares about.”

You frowned, upset that he would be so rude to his only daughter. If you were capable of it, you’d make up for everything he lacked just to prove that she deserved better. 

“What matters to him is money, and money is earned by the more deals we close. It’s only business.”

“I understand that, but you matter in that equation, too.” You reasoned. “How he expects you to do all of that with no breaks is beyond me.”

She tutted. “Just one of the perks of being a Kim; especially since I’m the oldest and a woman. He expects me to prove myself in ways the rest of the family would never have to.” 

“Why doesn’t Hyun Wook help you? Aside from the occasional meeting, all I ever see him do is laze around or drink with his friends when he’s here.”

“Helping me isn’t something he signed up for when we got married. That wasn’t part of the agreement.”

“Agreement?” Your curiosity was piqued.

She nodded, taking another sip of her tea. “My father arranged our marriage when we were teenagers. Once Hyun Wook’s parents gave their conditions and final blessing a few years ago, we were married.”

“And I’m assuming you didn’t have much of a say in things, right?”

Her eyes crinkled in the corners as she smiled lightly. “You’re a fast learner, Y/N.”

The confirmation was bittersweet for a multitude of reasons. It gave you hope – maybe that meant she didn’t harbor real feelings for him – but it made you unequivocally sad for her. This woman, so pure and good natured, was subjected to a life of servitude, too, without even fully realizing it. In some ways, you had more freedom than her. How was that fair?

“I wish things were different,” you said, aware that you were incapable of remedying the situation. You wanted to express your dislike of her circumstances regardless. 

“Me too,” she sighed gently – just the way she was taught to. “But, it’s not all bad, you know.”

When you raised a brow, she took that as a sign to continue.

“You’re here now. And I like to think that we give each other something we never had before.”

“What do you mean, exactly?”

She sat forward in her chair a little, leaning closer to you. “Just… something new, I suppose. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. You keep me on my toes.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you laughed. She did, too, thinking you couldn’t possibly be any cuter than you were in that moment. 

Her hand landed on your forearm as her giggles died down.

“It definitely was, Y/N. And you know I don’t give them out often.”

“Why me, then?” You didn’t care if you sounded cheesy or desperate – you were past the point of that. A very real, very genuine intrigue weighed heavy on your mind after finding out about her arrangement with Hyun Wook, and it could only be appeased by some honest answers from her.

“Out of everyone, why me?” You reiterated. The question was loaded.

“Because you’re special to me. Don’t you see that?” Her brows knitted together, taken aback by your oblivion. She’d never hidden her affection for you. “I value all of the staff here, as you know. But, given the choice, I’d always choose to spend time with you over them. You just know me better, somehow.”

“Is that all?” You half-joked, cracking a smile.

Her hand skated down to yours, holding it as her thumb brushed across your knuckles.

“We’d be here until dawn if I were to list all the reasons.”

Your eyes screwed shut as you scrunched your face up in protest. “You’re such a flirt, Jiu. Cut it out.”

A low chuckle left her, husky enough to break your heart right then and there. “Why should I?”

You didn’t dare breathe, let alone give her a reason.

“I can lie, if you’d rather,” she promised, removing herself from you completely and sitting back again. Her eyes scanned over you, waiting and searching for an answer of some kind. “But I’m not the best at that. Especially when it comes to you.”

What could she possibly have meant by that? She had to be toying with you.

When you saw her subsequently glance at your lips, you panicked. It brought back memories of that night, so long ago. 

“Right,” you declared, clearing your throat. You searched for something to change the topic with.

The poetry book from earlier was the first thing to make its way into your line of sight.

You missed the disheartened look that washed over Jiu, and how her face fell a little at the loss of contact. 

But by the time you looked back at her again, her walls were raised once more and all traces of disappointment were gone. 

She picked up on your silent hint. Without another word, she reached forward and picked up the aged book, running her fingertips across its cover. 

“Would you like to hear one of my favorites?” An air of excitement began to surround her, evident in the soft smile that she gave you. It was eagerness restrained, though, and you wondered how often she’s had to bite her tongue before. 

“I’d love nothing more.”

Her gaze softened at that, vulnerable for a moment in a way you hadn’t quite seen before. Your words – or tone, whatever it had been – seemed to have struck a chord in her. 

She thumbed through a few pages until she landed on one that she frequented quite often. She cleared her throat quietly, turning her face away in a show of respect. When she was ready, she glanced up from the page and into your eyes.

“I love you,” she started, giving you pause. You certainly hadn’t expected those words to be the first out of her mouth. “...as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret,” she continued, returning her eyes to the page despite the fact that she had every word memorized a million times over. “...between the shadow and the soul.”

You looked on at her, watching as she grew a little shy. 

“Beautiful.” You whispered, unable to stop yourself. It was just loud enough for her to hear, and part of her questioned what you were referring to. She hoped you meant her, just as much as the poem itself. 

“Read me another.”

“Really?” 

You nodded, motioning to the book. “Please.”

It was obvious that she enjoyed it, and seeing her so happy only did the same to you in return.

She flipped through the pages again, bringing her free hand up to toy with her bottom lip as she searched the pages for a particular writing. You took a long drink of your tea, hiding behind the rim of your cup.

Soon enough, she found the next one. 

This time, she didn’t take her eyes off of you when she recited it. 

“I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.”

The words were simple, completely innocent. It was likely that no hidden meaning lied beyond the more obvious one, and yet, it made you think. 

Did she want to be the reason for your blossoming? Did the idea of seeing you, so open and new, get her through the day? Perhaps she wanted to be the reason you thrived. The harbinger of your impending success for another year.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder. If the flush of her cheeks was any indication, her mind had taken it elsewhere, too. 

“Wow,” you breathed, attempting to break the tense silence. “Those were wonderful. Thank you.”

She looked pleased. “If you’d like, we could do this more often.”

“That would be great,” you smiled. 

She mirrored you. “How about tomorrow night? Same time, same place.”

“I’ll be here.”

—----------------------

That night with Jiu left you falling even deeper than what you had been before. 

Your nervous system was on high alert the next morning, making you far clumsier than normal and unable to conduct yourself well for a majority of the day. You did your best to stay composed whenever you were around her, and it worked some. But even still, you were sure you made an utter fool of yourself on more than one occasion. 

Work prevented you from being around her much during the day, and you were left to throw yourself into your other tasks. For once, her absence was a welcome one; with the promise of meeting again in a matter of hours, you were at peace. You could use the time until then to calm down and ready yourself for whatever she had in store. 

And that you did. After finishing your jobs and putting together a care package to send to your family – a gift so graciously approved by Jiu – you found that you still had some time to kill. With it, you decided to make a small gift for her. 

Yoohyeon lent you a piece of her art paper and pencils, and on it you sketched an array of the flowers that Jiu had told you she loved over the past few months. You shaded and colored them to the best of your ability, and you wrote the words of her poem as a sort of border around their petals. When it was all finished, you were genuinely proud. It took quite a while for you to be satisfied, but you couldn’t deny that it was worth it. 

As you waited, counting down the hours until you were reunited, you thought up all the possible ways she might react to it. 

Like a lovesick teenager, you hoped that she loved it. Your heart gave in to its childish desire to make up scenarios in your head in the meantime. 

With every hourly chime of the grandfather clock at the end of the hall, a new possibility was constructed. They all made you smile, though your nervousness grounded you with the fact that reality might not match up with them. You made peace with that, though it was easier said than done.

Eventually, the time came. The rest of the manor had all retreated to their rooms, more than ready to knock out. You, on the other hand, were wide awake as you grabbed the present and snuck out of your quarters, careful to remain quiet. 

Your heart beat wildly in your chest; so hard you were sure everyone else could hear it echoing down the empty halls. You paid no mind to the moon, now; the stars didn’t grab your attention as they had before. But, looking back, you wish they would have. You wish you would’ve listened to the cry of the owl outside, perched high on the angel’s shoulder at the fountain. Its large eyes were open wide, as if pleading for you to turn around and forget your pursuit.

It was all too little too late, though. 

The distant sound of voices – mumbling, quietly discussing something – faded in as you neared Jiu’s room. They grew louder the closer you got – more forceful. The door was open so slightly that it appeared to be the latch’s fault, rather than it intentionally being left that way. 

Your curiosity got the better of you when you heard Jiu say something else inside, low and unintelligible. You approached it, closing the final gap that existed between you and the heartbreak waiting inside. 

As you peeked in, your heart sank.

Hyun Wook had beat you to her, it appeared. 

His hand pushed its way past the silk underslip of her dress while her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in close. He groped her wantonly as their bodies moved together, all heat and drunken lust. She was perched atop the dresser, though her position was anything but secure. It rocked rhythmically, bumping the wall as his searching hips found comfort between her warm thighs. Their muscles flexed; every twitch made you sick. 

She moaned lowly when he ripped the straps of her dress down, causing you to grimace. You could only hope it was fake, entirely generated to boost his ego and not rooted in any actual pleasure. 

The betrayal you felt, sitting heavy on your chest, made it hard to breathe. He was her husband, and you knew that – you knew that. Even still, some part of you foolishly believed that she would end things with him. That she would stop seeing him altogether, whether it be for sex or anything else. 

Although you were aware that their daily interactions were simply meant to save face, witnessing them was still daunting. But this – this hushed, late night rendezvous – was something else completely. With no one else around to catch them at such an hour, they had no need to put on a show. This was entirely for them. Every shuddered breath, every cry, every thrust of their hips was meant for them. 

You backed away from the door, feeling numb. A final glance at her was stolen before you made your silent retreat, but it only hurt more in the end; he captured her full lips in a bruising kiss, muffling the groan that left them. 

The paper in your hands folded in on itself, then, crumpling from the force you exerted. Until you made it back to your room, it remained clutched tightly in your fist. 

Once you were inside, you threw it in the fireplace.

—

The Next Morning

Distant sounds of silverware clanking together woke Jiu. 

They were jarring – a far cry from her typical alarm: you. Although she was disappointed that you weren’t there to greet her, she brushed off the feeling. Perhaps you were just exhausted and slept in by accident. With how hard you’d been working lately, she couldn’t blame you.

She’d always appreciated how good you were to her. 

When she rang the bell a few minutes later to alert you, it took you far longer than normal to come in. The special knock you always used was absent this time, too, exchanged instead for two dull thuds. 

Admittedly, it made her sad; she always valued your early morning interactions. The sleepy way you would rub your eyes or yawn as you helped get her ready for the day always made her smile, and she often found herself thinking of it in the middle of her business meetings. Your groggy voice was always endearing, too. 

Such a shame things were different today.

You didn’t waste time doting on her. Your hands weren’t as gentle as usual, and you certainly didn’t stop to admire her body as you washed it. If anything, you avoided looking as much as possible; you caught a glimpse of a dark spot on her neck at one point, and that was enough to sour your mood even further somehow. Haste was present in everything you did and said. 

If she noticed or cared, she didn’t make it known. 

Tension hung in the air, along with an awkwardness that neither of you were very fond of. In your pursuit of avoidance, you failed to notice the observant gaze she set on you. Carefully, she attempted to read you; she made sure to look away when your attention was eventually returned to her, despite how hard it was. If she made her concern too obvious, she knew you’d close up and push her away. And for a situation as delicate as this, she was willing to treat it as such.

But, after a while of pretending, things caught up with you. The mask you put up slipped, showing your true feelings:

When you tugged the laces of her corset just a little too hard, making her draw in a tight breath and hold onto the dresser for support, it became apparent that your overzealous hands clearly hadn’t forgotten last night. A mumbled apology was made, but it did little to convince her. 

“What is your problem?” She asked, though her tone resembled an accusation. 

Your eyes found hers in the mirror. You debated. 

“I don’t have a problem, Jiu.” You declared, tying the ends into a bow before turning around. She turned, too, observing you as you laid out a selection of dresses for her to choose from.

“I know you well enough to recognize that that's a lie.”

The statement gave you pause, but you found yourself scoffing after it subsided. 

“Why do you care?” You asked genuinely, raising your head to meet her gaze from across the bed. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“If something is troubling you, I’d like to know. This is my estate, so I feel responsible.” She explained.

You shook your head, dismissing her. “Don’t. I can handle myself fine.” The last thing you wanted was her pity. 

“I didn’t say otherwise, Y/N,” she tilted her head subtly, softening her gaze. “I know you can. But that doesn’t keep me from wondering.”

When you finally looked at her again, searching her eyes as you attempted to decide on your next move, the curiosity there took you by surprise. Something unspoken lied just behind the annoying sparkle in them, drawing you in again. You loathed it in every sense of the word – this power she had over you. But still, you couldn’t fight the urge to give in and tell her why. Maybe, if you were lucky, she’d have a reaction that resembled guilt.

“Fine,” you started, taking a few steps across the room to sit at her window-side table. “I didn’t sleep very well last night. That’s why I’m like this.”

Relief flashed across her face momentarily, and she took a seat on the end of her bed. “Do you know why you couldn’t sleep?” 

Your jaw clenched. “I was a bit under the weather.”

“I’ll have Yoohyeon make you some tea tonight, if it happens again.” She offered, oblivious to your lie. 

“Are you planning to see Hyun Wook again?” You dared to ask, watching as realization flooded over her. It replaced the relief from before. “If so, then go ahead and tell her now.”

She swallowed, glancing down at the floor. “You heard us last night?”

A humorless laugh left you. “Put lightly, yes. But I saw you, too. It was quite the show.”

“Y/N, I–”

“What, Jiu?” You raised your chin up, silently challenging her. The images of them together were resurfacing in your mind, only making your mood worse. “Are you going to say I wasn’t meant to see it? Because that’s obvious. It would be concerning if you wanted me to.”

She took a deep breath, weighing something of her own. “I barely remember it. We were drunk; it just happened.”

You nodded to yourself as if you were expecting her answer to sound something like that. “Convenient, no?”

“What do you want me to say?” She seemed taken aback.

“Something a little less overused, maybe.”

She sighed, feeling frustration beginning to creep up on her. So many unsaid things existed between the two of you, complicating matters beyond their limit. Eventually, she knew, they’d all come out. Exactly how and when that would happen, though, she wasn’t sure.

“He came to my room and surprised me, okay? We had some drinks, and one thing led to another.” 

So she really did want to sleep with him. What little hope you had left was crumbling fast. 

“Okay,” you said, standing up. Your sudden response surprised her, and the evidence of that was clear on her face as you crossed the room again. 

“Okay?” She repeated, sounding unsure. 

You hummed in affirmation, ready to move on and get her ready for the day. The faster you got her dressed and prepared, the faster she would be out of your sight. 

“That’s it?” 

If you didn’t know better, you’d have sworn some disappointed painted her tone. 

“What else is there to say?”

So much.

She paused for a moment. “Nothing, I suppose.”

Your hands clasped together in front of you as you subtly motioned to the dresses with your head. 

“Then let’s get you ready.”

—

The rest of the day saw you busied with any and every one of your tasks that didn’t involve Jiu. You avoided her at every opportunity, only letting the essential responsibilities of yours be the reasons you reunited. After they were finished, you were gone faster than she could say goodbye. For any duties bordering on trivial, the other maids stepped up and assumed them. 

Were you allowed to do that? You weren’t exactly sure. But did you care? Absolutely not. 

Being around her made your chest ache. Every attempt from her at simple banter or a normal conversation stung; her oblivion made things ten times worse. Did she question why you were so upset? Did she dig deeper, searching for a reason that her maid would be that affected by an expected interaction between husband and wife?

No. She couldn’t have. Because the Jiu you knew was clever. Had she stopped to consider the circumstances for even a moment, she surely would’ve pieced things together. 

You couldn't decide if that hurt more or not.

Regardless, you tried to gather up what self restraint you had left and use it to stop thinking about her. Finding ways to help out around the busy estate was incredibly easy, and for once you found yourself grateful for that.

The gardeners and animal caretakers were paid visits by you in the morning, but you spent most of the day holed up in the kitchen. Along the way, you heard news of an event that was scheduled for later that night; a group of investors were returning to discuss a merger of their companies, and Hyun Wook had agreed to host. Following a meeting with all of them, there was to be a celebration of sorts in the ballroom, complete with a vast array of refreshments and foods. Being the… bright… mind that Hyun Wook is, though, he failed to mention it until the day of. 

His incompetence only fanned the flames of your hatred, but you held your tongue and channeled your energy into helping prepare everything. It took a lot of effort, but you knew it would be worth it in the end. 

Yoohyeon was there to keep you company for a while, when she took her occasional breaks, and that was enough for you. Though it was obvious to her that you were upset, she didn’t question it. Her instincts as your friend knew better than to push you for information when you were so vulnerable. She knew you’d come to her about it eventually, when things settled into place. She offered words of encouragement in the meantime and hugged you close when she saw you getting overwhelmed. 

The kitchen staff was friendly, too, despite the stress they were under. You even began to forge friendships with some of them, working closely and depending on one another to ensure that things ran smoothly. Pressure piled on your shoulders in ways you had never experienced before, given the change in tasks. But you persevered, and your efforts helped keep the night from being a total disaster.

When things kicked off in the ballroom, the head chef thanked you for your assistance and sent you to enjoy the party. 

Yoohyeon bumped her shoulder into yours as she walked out with you, finished with her responsibilities too and free to keep you company. She helped you get changed into something more fitting for a celebration before you both headed to the ballroom. 

-

“We should just go to the library,” you pouted, pulling at the collar of your shirt. 

“I think drinking is exactly what you need right now,” she replied, shutting your bedroom door behind herself. “We can dance and enjoy ourselves, and it’ll take your mind off of whatever’s bugging you.”

She joined you again, poking your arm in an attempt to cheer you up.

“If you say so,” you sighed, walking on towards the ballroom. 

The skirt that she had chosen for you flowed and swayed with every step you took, looking far more elegant than you’d ever admit. It made you feel attractive despite your low spirits, and you figured that had to count for something.

When you arrived, the doors were opened by two male servants dressed in full black outfits, denoting their status. Their faces were stoic as you treaded inside. Too bad they couldn’t come in and enjoy themselves as well. 

The biggest, brightest chandelier you’d ever seen hung above the dance floor, twinkling as its jewels and beads caught the lights of the room. Throngs of people were already under it; those that occupied the center were busy dancing joyfully together, finally letting themselves loose, while the pockets of people that bordered them chose to converse and watch one another over the rims of their glasses instead. 

Tables lined the rest of the room, every one of them a carbon copy of the next. Despite the lack of a heads up, the staff had managed to whip everything into shape; not even a single napkin was out of place. Had you not been privy to the constraints that were placed on them, you would’ve assumed that they had days to prepare with just how orderly everything was. 

Waiters wordlessly cycled through the crowd, keeping an eye out for any glasses whose contents were quickly dwindling. They had them switched out with fresh ones before the guests could even think of complaining. Their practiced ease was admirable as they kept things running smoothly, unfazed by the music and bustle of the party. 

Yoohyeon tugged on your arm, pulling you over towards the dance floor. On your way, you passed by the center table that stretched from one side of the room to the other. The kitchen’s creations all shined in their respective places on it, sitting on their fancy plates. It all looked delicious, but you weren’t in the mood to eat. Even if you had been, it wouldn’t have mattered; Yoohyeon was on a mission, and you were coming along for the ride whether you wanted to or not. 

She wiggled her way through the crowd with you in tow, only stopping once you broke through the outer ring and the middle of the dancefloor was in sight. She didn’t push you into the heart of the action; instead, she settled for a nice spot nearby, where you both could move freely and still be a part of the hoopla.

And move, she did. As the group of musicians on the elevated stage began their next song, she jumped at the opportunity to dance. Your initial attempts to match her energy were half hearted at best, but the longer the music played, the more you opened up. She joked with you and made a fool of herself in the best possible way, knowing just how to lift your spirits. Before long, the two of you were lost in the rhythm of the music; your cares had slipped away, and for a pleasant moment, every thought of Jiu that had been plaguing your mind vanished. The feeling of Yoohyeon’s body pressed tightly against yours as you swayed together, free with the beat, replaced everything else. 

Your hearts raced together, just as in sync as the smiles on your faces. You dipped one another and spun around, lacking any care for the traditional way that the song in question was meant to be danced to. Others might have sent you unapproving looks, but that was truly the last thing you cared about in that moment. The happiness you felt outshined and deflected any haughty contempt that came your way.

Only once you began to get a little too hot for comfort did you step off the dance floor for a quick break. 

Yoohyeon jovially knocked into you with every other step, still reeling from the excitement that coursed through her veins. It wasn’t a common occurrence for staff like her to be invited to such a night of fun, so it was really a no-brainer that she was so eager to be there. Truthfully, she worked harder than anyone else you’d seen at the estate. If anyone deserved a night of freedom, it was her.

“Ah, my favorite!” She blissfully sighed, still a bit out of breath as she took the drink that a passing waiter outstretched to her. 

He did the same for you as she made quick work of downing hers, much to his amusement. He let a smile break out across his face as he handed her her second glass of the evening and retrieved the now empty one.

You thanked him by raising your glass in a silent toast to his efforts before taking a sip. He bowed and left directly after.

Across the room, Jiu stood among a group of guests that had no intention of fully enjoying the party around them. Her husband was at her side, sipping on the whiskey he’d just received a few minutes prior. His arm was around her waist, possessive in the way that it stayed there. The conversation around her began to sound more like unintelligible mumbling as she turned her head away, seeking a moment of reprieve from the mind-numbing boasting that everyone was doing.

As if on cue, Yoohyeon took a step to the side. Her body no longer blocked your view of the heiress, and before you could look away, your eyes locked with hers. 

Surprise overtook her features, but you weren’t so lucky. Disappointment returned to you, making your face fall as you took in the sight of her. When you noticed your rival’s hold on her slipping further south, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You shook your head and looked away, scoffing quietly. 

Did they have no shame? Did she?

All of hers must have run out without you realizing. 

Bitterness filled your heart in a dangerous way. It made you want to get back at her, somehow; to make her feel just as shitty as you did. You racked your brain for a solution, though your better judgment pleaded for you to just let it go. You tried, for a hot second, but jealousy is a cruel destroyer, after all – a purveyor of ruin – and it worked its magic on you. 

However reckless your next move was didn’t matter. The fallout would come in due time, and you could pick up the fallen pieces of your house of cards then.

You leaned closer to Yoohyeon, placing a hand on her forearm.

“Kiss me.” 

The whispered request made her eyes widen immensely, but you pulled her closer to your body to conceal that fact. 

“What?”

You peeked over her shoulder, finding Jiu looking tense. Her grasp on the glass in her hand was growing tight, nearly capable of shattering it. A small smile graced your lips at the realization. 

“Just do it, please,” you practically begged, knowing your window of opportunity was closing fast. If something was going to be a turning point, it had to happen right then.

Yoohyeon followed your line of sight, and in an instant she understood. Softly, she turned your head so that you were looking into her eyes again. 

Her fingertips pressed into the front of your shirt, backing you up against the large pillar that stood behind you. Its chilly surface connected with your back just as her lips found yours, slotting together like two puzzle pieces. You cupped her cheeks and tilted your head, giving the illusion that you were kissing her deeper.

At least, it started that way. 

She bit your lip, earning herself a moan of surprise; that wasn’t what you had been prepared for. Her arms wrapped around your waist when you shuffled a little further into her hold, unconsciously seeking the warmth that she provided. Both of you could feel yourselves getting carried away, but oddly, neither of you stopped. It felt too good in the moment to give it up.

Her hands were gentle as they raked over your body, eager enough to sell your lie but restrained enough to avoid bordering on anything serious. The game you were playing was dangerous, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t thrill you.

Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging softly as she pressed her warm thigh between yours. Her eyes watered slightly in response, but she smiled against your lips as she savored the feeling.

All of your pleasure instantly turned to fear, however, when someone roughly grabbed your wrist. It was Jiu. Her aura was one that you had never seen from her; entirely new, full of anger. She pulled you away from Yoohyeon at once, not bothering to care how harsh she was. Both of you stumbled, cheeks flushed and hearts racing. 

“Go to your room, Yoohyeon.” Her tone was icy. Far scarier than you’d ever heard it be before. 

Yoohyeon glanced at you warily, pausing for a moment to ensure that you’d be okay with whatever was about to happen. Waking up to hear the news of your murder (or expulsion) wasn’t something she wanted. 

Despite the way that Jiu’s fingers squeezed tighter at Yoohyeon’s reluctance, you gave her a nod to let her know you’d be okay. She relented, then, and quickly bowed before making her departure.

When she was out of sight, you could practically feel the heat radiating off of Jiu. She turned on her heel and dragged you behind her, all the way to her quarters. A fire was lit within her, and nothing you could possibly do was capable of putting it out. 

What she had in store, you had no idea. Hell, you were half certain she planned to actually kill you, with the way she thundered down the hall, not even acknowledging the staff that passed by and greeted her. 

But, at the end of the day, that meant she felt something. Whether it was an indication of her feelings for you or just an unfathomable amount of hate for relationships between employees and public displays of affection, you’d soon be finding out. 

The open door of her bedroom passed by in a whizz of dark brown as she shoved you inside, seething. She followed closely after and shut it behind herself, locking it. 

Your back was still turned to her as you attempted to compose yourself. “Ma’am, we–”

“Shut your mouth, Y/N.”

She took you by the arm again, spinning you around to face her. A grimace crossed her face as she noticed the state you were in. In particular, the gloss that had transferred from Yoohyeon’s lips to yours – smudged and unruly with want – made her sick.

“As much as you make me question it, I know you aren’t stupid.” Her elegant heel paced forward, taking an advancing step toward you. Afraid of doing the wrong thing, you didn’t move.

“So tell me, why would you do something as reckless as that in front of everyone?” 

You swallowed, not sure of how to answer her. Between a rock and a hard place is precisely where you were wedged. 

“I advise that you speak,” she warned after a moment of silence passed, “...for the sake of everyone.” The implication behind her words was obvious, and you resented the fact that she would use your situation against you like that. 

“We just got carried away.” 

The excuse was lame at best, and she clearly wasn’t satisfied with it. Her eyes rolled as she took another step forward in response, causing you to finally retreat some. 

“Do you enjoy being difficult?” Her voice dripped with condescension as she continued to advance. “Or do you think I’m naive enough to believe you?”

Your back brushed against the wall, running into it. Your chance of escape was officially out the window. Shit.

“No, ma’am.”

Her eyes darkened at your use of the title, filling you with dread. 

“Take off your shirt.”

“W-what?” You couldn’t stop the stutter in your voice no matter how hard you tried.

“Take it off,” she repeated, crossing her arms. She tilted her chin up slightly, making herself look superior. “You clearly didn’t care to show off out there, so why should it be any different now?”

She shrugged, letting her gaze slowly travel across your body. When she noticed that you were pressing your thighs together, she looked back up at your face. 

“We really didn’t mean to make a show of it…”

Despite your half-hearted effort to change the topic, she refused to be swayed. With a cocked eyebrow, she waited for you to follow her instructions.

Anxiety swirled with embarrassment as you relented and brought your fingers up to the buttons of your uniform. They trembled briefly before you steadied yourself with a deep breath, determined to keep eye contact with her as you undressed – no matter how shy you were, you were still hurt by the memory of what you witnessed the night before. You wanted to see her reaction. 

She watched with bated breath as you undid the buttons one by one, taking your time but not wasting it. You used every second to your advantage, teasing her without even really meaning to. She visibly tensed when you undid the last one, and you could practically feel your ego being boosted in the process. 

You edged the material down your arms before tossing it on the bed across the room. 

“Feel better?” She questioned, regaining the composure that she lost momentarily. “You know, now that you’re getting exactly what you wanted,” she finished. 

“I didn’t w–”

The response died out in your throat. You knew it was a lie.

She smirked in such an aggravatingly sexy way that you wanted to slap her for it. “What, were you going to pretend you weren’t doing that to get my attention out there?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but gave up shortly after. Your cheeks warmed with embarrassment again.

“I saw the way you peeked over Yoohyeon’s shoulder, Y/N.” Confidence radiated off of her as every trace of vulnerability faded away. “How your eyes swept over me when her hand slid between your thighs. It was cute, really,” she chuckled softly, only making matters worse. 

“And yet, she was the one touching me like that,” you finally spoke, aware that you had to push back against her attempt at belittling you. “It was her lips on mine, kissing me senseless. Not yours.”

She faltered for a moment, not knowing exactly what to say to that. 

"And yeah, I may have wanted your attention," you admit, "but it wasn't too hard to get. Don't think I didn't see how you were looking at me." 

Something changed in her demeanor, then, when she saw the hint of a smile that graced your lips. Nothing in the world could’ve stopped her from getting rid of it. 

Her hands roughly connected with your shoulders as she pushed you up against the wall – further than you already were – and she shoved your thighs apart with her knee. Her grip moved down to your hips, gaining purchase there as she clutched them possessively. The breaths that left her were staggered – full of anger.

Your eyes opened wide when she reached down and grabbed the bottom of your skirt, hiking it up to your waist. 

“Jiu, please–” you gasped, feeling her cold fingers easily slide past the barrier that your panties created. Without meaning to, your legs parted a little wider for her, allowing her to press the length of her body further into yours.

“Did she do this to you?” she asked, brazenly stroking you. Little tenderness was put into her movements.

“Is this,” she paused, gathering up your wetness on her fingertips, “...for her?”

A quiet moan slipped past your parted lips as your head fell back, exposing your neck to her. Her gaze flickered over your taut muscles before stopping to admire the wild beating of your heart, visible at your pulse point; suddenly, she felt the urge to mark you. To ensure that everyone knew who you belonged to, even if you weren’t awarded the same title over her in return.

“Answer me,” she warned, a dangerous look in her eyes. Her free hand came to fist in your hair, needing to be busied.

“N-No, Jiu. It’s not for her.”

Visibly, some tension left her shoulders. Still, her jealousy simmered. 

“If I ever see something like that again or even so much as hear a rumor of it, you’ll be sent back home and your father will pay for his debts himself. Is that clear?”

Your thighs trembled around her hand, both from the implication of her threat and the way she was still touching you. 

“Why do you even care?” It was a bad idea to test her, but you didn’t care. After the back and forth that you’d been put through for so long, you needed to hear her say it.

“I’m not playing your game, Y/N,” she spat, tightening her grip on your hair. Your face scrunched at the sensation.

“Tell me, please.”

The desperation in your voice must have been enough to convince her. Perhaps, though, her own desire played a part, too. 

“She was all over you. It doesn’t take a genius to see what would’ve happened if I hadn’t stopped you when I did.”

Her strokes became languid, making you rut your hips to get relief yourself. “It was pathetic.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” you managed out through ragged breaths, smiling to yourself. 

She stilled her hand almost completely, arrogantly watching as you writhed a little harder.

“Are you trying to insult me?” She laughed lowly, pressing herself against you a little more. “If you want to do that, you’ll have to stop getting so wet before I even do anything.”

Your eyes closed again, unable to keep contact after catching a glimpse of her darkening ones. Danger flickered in them, but so did lust – the kind that can get you killed if you’re not careful. 

“Then do something already.” 

She watched your lips as you made your request, admiring the way they pursed and pouted with every syllable. From the very first time she laid eyes on you, she’d wanted to kiss them. To taste you, in more ways than one. 

Denying herself such a simple pleasure for so long had been torture.

Your hands made their way to her hips, balling the soft material of her dress up as you waited impatiently. Despite how careful you’d trained yourself to be, never handling her belongings irresponsibly, all you wanted to do was rip it off of her. 

A wave of confidence washed over you somehow, likely brought on by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

“Are you afraid I’ll fuck you better than him?”

The sudden question surprised both of you, but you did your best to hide it. Jiu, on the other hand, clearly wasn’t able to; her eyebrows rose, taken aback. The resulting circle of her thumb against your clit, whether subconscious or intentional, lessened your doubts.

“Is that why you’re so jealous?” Your lips hovered over hers, brushing against them as you carefully teased her. “You don’t want me with Yoohyeon but yet you won’t take me yourself. Come on, now, Jiu. You’re better than that.”

Whenever she shifted forward, you moved back slightly. An ebb and flow, both torturous and enticing. She’d have to put in work to prove what she truly wanted. 

“Be quiet.”

“Why should I?” You challenged. Her eyes stared back into yours, so fiery you didn’t know what to do with yourself. “You’re just mad I figured you out.”

“You don’t know half of what you think you do, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You shrugged, ignoring the urge to moan when she slid a finger down to your entrance. It circled, teasing you. 

“Enlighten me, then.”

“You don’t deserve that, after tonight.”

You rolled your eyes. “Give it a rest. What Yoohyeon and I did was practically child’s play compared to you and Hyun Wook. Stop lamenting over it.”

When her head cocked to the side, you knew whatever was coming next would only hurt.

“I could say the same to you about what you saw, you know. It’s just what a husband and wife do; you have no right to be so upset.”

Her words, combined with the icy tone she put on, stung. She could read the hurt on your face as they sunk in.

Her attempt at hurting you like this hurt her, too, but she knew she needed to keep you at bay. It was a necessary evil. 

“So did our plans for that night mean nothing to you, then?” You asked, sounding more angry than sad as the two emotions battled one another in your heart. You took her hands off of you and pushed her away.

She stumbled; your question struck a chord in her. It was easy to see, despite the effort she put in to hide it. 

“They meant something to me. Believe that.”

A scoff left you. “Oh, I bet. I’m sure that’s all you could think about when he was inside of you.” 

“I thought of you the whole time, Y/N.”

She was taking things too far now. 

“Why the hell would you say something like that? Stop toying with me!” You shouted a little too loud for your own good, but truthfully you couldn’t have cared less. 

“I’m not,” she mitigated, saying the words like a promise as she took a small step towards you. The hesitation in it made you hesitate, too. What was she up to?

“Every second I was with him I pretended it was you touching me. Kissing me. Fucking me.” The way that she glanced away made it obvious that she was replaying it all in her mind, and in that moment you would’ve done just about anything to have had a peek inside. 

“Do you seriously think I could’ve made those sounds otherwise?” 

Your heart beat a little harder at the memory of them.

"Why did you choose him, then?"

"When we started drinking, you were all I could think about." She admitted, looking ashamed but honest. "But I knew I couldn't have you. Not in the ways I wanted to. Needed to. And… he was available." She swallowed down the guilt that she felt rising in her. 

"So I settled." 

Her explanation was still partially a lie, but you were oblivious to that. She was still too afraid to tell you the full truth yet, though her heart begged her to.

"You could've come to the study and had me instead." 

Something unreadable flashed in her eyes. It was lust mixed with something else.

“Could I have?” She asked, eyebrows raised, as if you were a child who just suggested the most impossible task known to man. Her tone was dripping with incredulity, and a bitter laugh threatened to leave her. 

“Yes,” you breathed, emphasizing the word. “But even if you couldn’t have, it hurts to know you’d allow him to take my place.”

She looked away. Shame pervaded her mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me you felt this way?”

“I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“You, Y/N.”

You couldn’t believe that. “Am I so threatening?” 

“Yes!” She erupted. “Do you not see how much power you have over me?” 

Your jaw went slack. “What power could I possibly have over you?”

“You rule me in ways you’ll never understand.”

“Help me learn them, then.” You took a step forward, extending a hand to her. 

Several seconds passed. She looked at it, visibly deciding if she wanted to accept it, before she eventually decided to. When she met your gaze again, you could see the tears beginning to brim in her eyes.

“Oh, Jiu.”

“You have no idea what it’s like, Y/N, and I can’t fault you for that,” she started, looking up at the ceiling to prevent her tears from falling. “But my life is based on rules. It always has been, from the second I was born; and up until the second I die, I’ll still be subjected to them. Who I can meet with, who I can marry, what I can occupy my time with. It’s all limited, all monitored.” She explained. 

You brought your hand up to cup her cheek when she sniffled, rubbing the pad of your thumb across her smooth skin. The way her chin quivered in response to the comforting sensation made your heart ache. 

“But when you came to live here, something changed in me. You’ve made me feel seen and understood in ways I’ve never been by anyone else. My secrets are safe with you. I’m safe with you.”

She brought her free hand up, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her dress.

“And as much as I love that, it’s terrifying. You could ruin me in a second.”

“I would never.” Your answer was almost instant.

“But you could. You could walk away after your time here is done and never see me again. You could forget about me and move on with your life. But that’s something I could never do.”

When she said ‘ruin’, you figured she meant her reputation. Not her heart. You’d never thought yourself capable of such a feat.

“Everything you do is important to me. I hang onto every conversation we have. Every look. Every touch.” Her eyes shut briefly, tensing. “I think about you in ways that I shouldn’t, and I’ve struggled with this awful sense of regret for so long. I tried to suppress my feelings when I found that I was incapable of stopping them. I figured it was the next best thing.” She admitted. “But then that night in the study sent me back to square one.”

Your gaze softened at the pitiful look on her face. She truly had been suffering.

“I knew it was foolish of me to push the boundary, but God did I enjoy it. My better judgment slipped away from me, then, and I paid for it when I saw Hyun Wook the next morning.”

That got your attention. “What do you mean?”

“He complained that I was growing too distant from him, and hinted that he would inform my father of his feelings unless I changed things.”

Subconsciously, your head shook.

“I thought about you and our plans all day long, and to be honest, I couldn’t wait to have you all to myself. I was worked up–”

“Worked up?” You interrupted, confused. 

She blushed at your lack of understanding. “Turned on, Y/N,” she elaborated.

Oh.

“I was worked up when he came in. He was drunk and demanded I be a good wife. In his mind, that included drinking with him and fucking.”

You grimaced, fighting the urge to recoil at the image of that, which was taking shape in your mind.

“He thought my arousal was for him, and it only made things worse. When I tried to worm my way out of sleeping with him, he took his phone out and threatened to dial my father. I didn’t have the option to refuse anymore.”

“So that’s why you did it.”

She nodded, ashamed. She avoided your gaze, feeling unworthy of it.

Just like that, the final layer of her lie was peeled back. It opened to reveal the truth: that she never actually wanted to be with him at all. 

“What would your father have done?”

Her head swayed from side to side sadly. “I don’t know, and that’s the worst part. But it wouldn’t have been anything good; he always sides with Hyun Wook.”

“And what would you have done, if he never came in?”

“I don’t know that either, Y/N, but I like to think I might’ve eventually told you my feelings.”

You pursed your lips in thought. "You did pretty well just now." 

She grinned lightly at your sweet teasing. "You think so?" 

"Mhm," you nodded, placing your hands on her hips as you backed her up towards the bed. 

When her calves bumped into the frame, she gently plopped down onto the mattress. You stayed standing in front of her, moving to cup her cheeks. She nuzzled into your hold a little. 

"All this time, I thought I was just fooling myself into believing you liked me back." 

Her hands ran up and down your back, creating goosebumps in their wake. No matter what, she always knew just the right way to touch you.

"It feels good to know I’m not delusional after all.”

She laughed softly as she turned her head enough to kiss your palm. Her fingertips skated down your spine, ghosting over your skin until they reached your waist. She took hold of it, loving how warm you were against her. 

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” she teased. 

“Hey!” You pinched her cheek in retaliation.

“I’m kidding, jagi!” 

You pushed her backwards, sending her down onto the mattress. The sheets poofed out all around her in response, absorbing all of her impact. She pulled you along with her, guiding you to straddle her.

Amusement shined in her eyes as she looked up at you, noticing your arms crossed in faux annoyance. The position made your chest look even more enticing to her. 

Your act began to slip up when you noticed her staring. “Like what you see?” 

She was brazen with it – not subtle like she’d always been before. A new level of desire burned in her; here and now, there was no one to stop her from doing what she’d dreamed of for so long. 

Her hips raised suddenly, sending you forward and into her arms. Your lips brushed against hers in the process. 

“I love it, Y/N/N. You’re so beautiful.” She answered, sweeping the fallen strands of hair out of your face. You shifted your weight to an elbow, using it to hold yourself up. Your free hand went to her side.

She traced your lips with her thumb, silently asking for permission. You granted it without hesitation.

Part of you would like to say you saw fireworks and stars as her lips pressed to yours, but that would be a lie. Instead, it was warmth spreading throughout your body as your heart beat harder to compensate. Though the feeling was new and unknown, it was like coming home. It was finding home in a foreign place. 

Everything else – anything other than her – melted away in the moment, leaving you keenly aware of her every move. 

Her shuddered breathing became obvious when she rolled you over; she trembled in your arms. The movement hiked her dress up to her thighs, and you took the opportunity to slide your hands beneath the silky material. 

Her kisses were like the poetry she loved so much – each one a new line as you discovered one another for the first time. 

She nipped at your lip – innocently, carefully – before gaining the courage to deepen the kiss. You moaned in response as her eager hands found their way to your bra, kneading your breasts. Your nipples hardened against her palms from all the stimulation you were receiving. 

She arrogantly smiled against you at the feeling. 

Her hips slowly ground down into yours, creating a torturous rhythm. The heat between your thighs was already insufferable, and feeling her small movements only made things worse. She controlled everything, then; her breath on your neck sent you spiraling in time with the rutt of her hips. She purposefully stuttered them to rile you up and bring you closer to the edge. 

It was as if she wanted to make you come without even doing much at all. 

And as pitiful as it sounded, she was completely capable of such a feat. 

But your situation was far from a one way street. She may have hid it better, but she had never craved someone so much in her entire life. Your every sound and move made her throb a little harder as the ache between her legs became more and more unbearable.

Her soft lips peppered your neck with kisses and love bites as her hands greedily explored your body. She was attempting self control, but when your hips began to raise in time with hers, searching for friction, that went out the window. She could feel herself getting wetter by the second.

Her lips found yours again before she sat back on her knees, letting you take her full weight as she slipped her dress over her head. She was completely bare underneath it.

"We have to be careful," she reminded you, beginning to kiss her way down your body. She toyed with the waistline of your skirt, mentally debating on whether or not she should leave it on you. 

She glanced at the door.

Sounds of the party were distant but audible, and she knew all it took was one wayward guest to ruin everything for the both of you. One miscalculation could be your demise… so why did that thrill her?

The door was locked anyway. Surely that would be enough.

"Jiu–"

"Shhh," she soothed, sensing your growing impatience. "I'm not going anywhere." She gave her full attention back to you, putting you at ease.

In one motion, she tugged your skirt down and off of your legs. Her eyes flitted up and over every curve of your body, alight with blatant lust and admiration. You were absolutely divine. 

A smirk broke out across her face when she noticed the wet spot on your panties. 

"Such a shame." She tutted at you, reaching down to run her finger over the ruined material. You jerked a little at the contact, now keenly aware of just how sensitive you really were. 

"You want me to take these off?" She asked, feigning innocence as she pressed her palm against them, massaging you. "It has to be uncomfortable." 

She pouted, mocking the state you were in. Even her cockiness turned you on. 

"Please." 

Her eyebrows raised ever so slightly, taken aback. "Asking so politely already? What a good girl." 

"I can't wait anymore." You admitted, screwing your eyes shut. You had to make a conscious effort to steady yourself.

She chuckled darkly and pushed your thighs further apart with her hands. They were warm against your tender skin, and so possessive you didn't know what to do with yourself. She commanded your body better than you ever could've.

"You think I can?" Her voice was incredulous. "I've been dying for this." 

She looped her fingers in the thin material and yanked it down, tossing it haphazardly behind herself. 

A tremble racked through you, both from the coldness of the air and from the promise that lied in her words. Her eyes gleamed with a darkness that guaranteed you'd be even more of a mess soon enough.

She lowered herself down between your thighs, looking up at you all the while. Her lips dragged along your sensitive skin, leaving open mouth kisses and licks in their path.

"You have to be quiet for me, Y/N/N," she instructed. "Can you?" 

You nodded, but she wasn't satisfied. 

"Words." 

"Yes, ma'am." You replied in an instant, voice hushed. 

Her jaw tensed at your use of the title.

"Good. Keep it that way, or I'll stop." 

The closing of your eyes and subtle push of your head back into the pillows was the submission that she was after, and it pleased her for the time being.

She flattened her tongue and licked a stripe up your slit without warning, making you flinch slightly. Your hands gripped the sheets when she wrapped her arms around your thighs, intending to keep you in place when you inevitably started losing your composure. She lapped at the slick that dripped down your center and hummed, loving the way you tasted. It was better than she had imagined, somehow, and it only made her want you more. 

To think that such a beautiful woman like you could also taste so good seemed unfair. Finding your flaws was one of the hardest things she’d ever attempted. 

She was merciless as she gave her all to you, pulling out every trick she’d ever thought of trying. Some of her movements were sloppy and unconventional, showing her inexperience, but it was obvious she was doing everything she’d want done to her. She paid attention to the noises you made and what pulled the biggest reactions from you, and adjusted her rhythms and approach accordingly. She was a fast learner, you came to realize, as she practically turned from a rookie to natural right in front of you. 

But she wasn’t prepared for how much fucking you would effect her. The reins that held her together were slipping from her grasp the longer she had you like this. She needed relief, too, no matter how she got it. 

She unconsciously humped the bed in time with every desperate roll of your hips, unable to control herself. The fire in the pit of her stomach was blazing, leaving her breathless. 

She watched you bite into your lip in a poor attempt to quiet yourself; but it barely helped. As you came undone with a stuttered groan of her name, she felt a tell-tale rush of warmth between her own thighs as well. They pressed together, confirming what she suspected.

You gave her her first orgasm without even knowing it.

“Fuck,” she breathed, closing her eyes momentarily. Her core throbbed, needing more. 

You raised your head at the sound of her voice, oblivious. “What?” 

She shied away when you reached for her, causing you to push yourself up onto your elbows. 

“Jiu…”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she wordlessly glanced underneath her body, leading your gaze to the mess that she’d made on the sheets below herself. Realization dawned on you, making an innocent smile appear on your face. 

“Did you…?”

“I couldn’t stop it.”

She moved up your body, hovering over you. Any remaining humiliation she felt at the situation dissipated when you slid a hand between your bodies, wanting to feel for yourself just how wet she was. Her brows knitted together and she moaned, letting you explore her. 

She allowed you to push her over on the large bed and straddle her, effectively trading your positions. 

“Tell me what to do.” You requested, lazily stroking her. The tips of your fingers teased her, not committing to anything too seriously yet. “Tell me what you want.”

She swallowed, eyeing you. “I want your fingers, Y/N, and that pretty mouth. Show me what I’ve been missing all this time.” 

You quirked a brow.

“Please,” she added, catching herself.

You smiled and leaned down, replacing your lips on hers as your hips settled between her thighs. Her tongue ran across your lips as she cupped your cheeks, pulling you in ever-closer and deepening the kiss. You melted into her embrace, much to her delight; everything about the moment was passion incarnate.

One of her hands dragged its way to your neck, which her slender fingers subsequently wrapped around. They tightened gently, reminding you of just how vulnerable you really were. She panted softly into your mouth between kisses, aware of the rapid beating of your heart.

You only broke away when you felt her lower half rubbing against you in its never ending pursuit of friction.

Your lips painted her soft skin with love bites in various hidden places, all carefully chosen as you worked your way down her body. They stalled at her chest as you licked and sucked her nipples, taking them into your warm mouth. You were showing her a type of pleasure she’d never experienced with her husband. He only ever focused on his own release; but you only focused on hers. Everything you did was the stuff of fantasy – things she’d read about in books and longed for, but had no hope of ever experiencing first hand.

Quiet whines slipped past her parted lips and she pushed her head back into the comforter anytime it all became too much to handle. You sucked a mark onto the inside of her thigh once you reached it, aware that it especially would only be visible when she was naked. No prying eyes could catch a glimpse of it and start drama; only two people in the manor would ever have a chance to see it, apart from her. 

"Don't let him touch you again, Jiu, unless you want him to find out who you really belong to." 

Her chest rose and fell faster than before – the result of your ministrations. The jealousy in your tone did unspeakable things to her. 

But she didn’t have time to properly respond. Two of your fingers slid in easily as you took her into your mouth, wrapping your lips around her clit. Her walls were warm around you and softer than you ever could’ve guessed. They quickly adjusted to you as you stretched her out and wasted no time in giving her what she wanted. 

Just as she requested, your fingers worked in time with your mouth, relentlessly chasing after her high. Every curl of them inside of her brought it a step closer; every swirl of your tongue earned you the gift of a new sound from her. 

You committed them all to memory, wanting to replay them later. They were all so pretty; even her pitiful sobs and incoherent pleas sounded beautiful. 

The blush on her cheeks was a deep crimson as she reached down and threaded her fingers through your hair. Her grip tightened as she got closer and closer, making your eyes water from the sting. It was a welcome pain, though, and you found yourself grinning against her when she unintentionally did it again. 

She’d never experience pleasure like this before with anyone; it was overwhelming for her, but the last thing she wanted was for it to stop. She was discovering just how good she could feel and how empowering it was to have someone worshipping her in such a way. 

How had she survived so long without you? Surely she was only half alive.

“Come for me,” you commanded, kissing the darkening mark on her thigh. Her body rocked, gyrating however it pleased as she met your every move halfway. Within a matter of seconds she was tensing and shuddering against you, unable to keep the pace you had set. When her back arched off the bed, you knew she was done for.

Her hand clasped tightly over her mouth to muffle the cries she let out as she tumbled over the edge and into euphoria. Sweat gleamed on her like a trophy, showcasing every ounce of effort you poured into getting her there. Her eyes were still closed as she reveled in bliss.

The tension in her taut muscles faded away when she eventually floated back down to Earth, still reeling. Her legs trembled from the aftershocks as you slowly cleaned her up a bit, savoring the taste of her. 

But you didn't stop there. You got greedy, with the way she unconsciously continued to grind against your face with movements so subtle she likely didn't even recognize that she was doing them. But her body did; it recognized the pleasure you gave, and it didn't want it to stop.

Her other hand instinctively tightened in your hair again, still nestled in the mussed strands of it. Her breathing was far from controlled, and as you picked your pace back up it only became more erratic. 

She whined as you continued between her thighs, determined to pull another orgasm from her. The overstimulation was almost too much for her to bear; her hands went to your shoulders as she tried to push you away. 

"Please… I can't," she struggled out through broken moans, writhing. 

Her body failed to adhere to her words, however; her hips raised rhythmically to meet your mouth, riding your tongue. She blushed deeply when you looked up at her through your lashes with lustful eyes. 

She squirmed again, causing you to lay an arm across her pelvis and press her into the bed, keeping her in place. 

"Yes you can," you mumbled, responding to her without fully taking your mouth away. The vibrations coursed through her, drawing another pitiful moan from her lips. 

"Jagi, please–"

What an actress. 

"One more, Jiu. We both know you want it, too."

"I-It's too much," she pleaded, shaking like a leaf. 

You moved up her body and put your lips on hers in response, quieting her begging. She whimpered at the taste of herself on your tongue, paired with the curl of your fingers as they slid inside of her with even more ease than before. You found her sweet spot again and wasted no time in using that to your advantage. 

"Y/N… ah–" she cried, latching onto you so tightly you were sure she'd leave marks. Her nails dragged along your back, harsh against your soft skin in the best kind of way. 

"I'm almost there." The husky tone of her voice only spurred you on.

Her grinding was wanton now, full of reckless abandon. She buried her face in your neck just as her moans reached a fever pitch. 

With another pulse of your fingers, she came hard around them, crying out your name.

She clutched you close to her body, almost as if she was afraid you’d slip away. You whispered sweet nothings as she came back down from her high, feeling weightless. Her tight grip loosened when she realized you weren’t going anywhere, and it gave you the chance to lay down beside her. Your hand splayed across her stomach when she looked up at you.

Innocence shined in her big, bright eyes, both precious and pure. Her heart was on her sleeve; she was in a state beyond vulnerability, and yet she wasn’t afraid like before. You, she realized, were her comfort. Her safety net, ready to catch her when she fell, and her supporter who’d never dream of leaving. 

Something told her that her revelations were bigger than just post-orgasm niceties. She knew what you felt for each other was real, and that meant everything to her. In the world of smoke and mirrors that she had been raised in, that kind of thing didn’t exist. But you broke the mold; her enigma.

Your fingers traced gentle circles above her navel, drawing her from her daze. 

A shy laugh left you, making your shoulders bounce slightly, and she couldn’t help but do the same. What were you to do now? She felt like she needed a few business days to recover.

She figured the next best thing would be to get cleaned up, and so she sat up to head to the bathroom and grab a towel. Her legs trembled as she attempted to lift them, not in the mood to cooperate. There was no way she could even stand yet, let alone walk.

“I’ll get it,” you soothed, already knowing what she was after. You leaned over and quickly kissed her again before heading off. Shortly after, you returned and gently cleaned her up before doing the same to yourself. Sensing that she had a few more rounds left in her, you hung it on the footboard for when you’d inevitably need it again.

“Come here.” She coaxed. 

She held her hand up to you, beckoning you closer. But before you could take it, her wedding ring caught your attention as it came into view. Its expensive jewels shimmered in the available light of the room, making you frown.

When she noticed it as well, she paused, visibly debating. After a few seconds passed, she slid it off her finger and sat it on the bedside table.

Free of it, she held her hand out again and smiled as you took it this time.

"Let's stay here a while," she insisted. Her voice was hoarse in an attractive way. The sound of it made what happened tonight real; it confirmed that you definitely weren't dreaming. 

"But what about the party?"

She just shook her head, unbothered. All she wanted to do was hold you close.

"Alright," you relented, unable to hold out any longer with the sweet way she was looking at you. 

She opened her arms and took you into them lovingly, letting out a sigh of contentment. 

Where the future would take you, you weren’t sure. But in her protective embrace, you felt safe from any challenges that might come your way. You’d face them together, always. 

She was your safeguard, and you were her escape. Two things so fatefully intertwined were surely destined to find a way in the end. 

[sukirichi]

— just the two of us

request: I almost read all of your jujutsu kaisen writings and I love it. Your writing is really good! I do not know if a request about a fics🥞 about satoru gojo who is really in love and not very possessive with an oblivious reader. It will be fun to see Satoru try to flirt with her and she doesn't get it🤣

pairings: gojo x oblivious! reader

notes: THIS IDEA IS SO CUTEEE I absolutely loved every second of writing it! thank you for the request and I hope you like this! 🥞 breakfast has been served!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: none, other than this is unedited and written humorously rather than seriously~

masterlist !

Gojo doesn’t know whether he’s lucky – or completely cursed – over the fact you’ve got no idea he’s so in love with you.

It’s a bright sunny morning, perfect for outdoor training, and he walks with you all the way to school with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. You stretch your arms out in the sky to bask in the morning glow and warmth of the sun, sleeves pushed up to your forearms to “get that vitamin D.”

Satoru snickers at your statement, because you’d totally be getting a different kind of Vitamin D if only you’d notice him. Sometimes he wonders, if maybe you’d inherited the Six Eyes instead of him, would you finally be able to see him – or would you still remain unaware?

He doesn’t even know where it began. A year ago, Yaga introduced you as the newest staff member. You’d been so fidgety and nervous then, unsure of what to do and worried if maybe the kids wouldn’t love. They did, of course, how could they not. Not only were you extremely fun to be with, you’re also caring, fretting and even crying whenever one of the students got injured over a mission.

Shoko reminds you all the time that this should be normal for you by now, but you always cry every time, sobbing that they’re still only kids and should be out having fun.

Yeah, maybe that’s where it began. Your kindness struck a chord in Satoru’s heart, and before he knew it, he was falling for you. Hard. Next thing you know, he shows up five minutes before you leave for work, mock-saluting you before inviting you to breakfast. He does this every damn day, and you still don’t get a single thing.

“That café was really good,” you muse, fingers stretching outwards and giggling as the sun peeks through the spaces. Satoru sighs beside you, wanting nothing more than to slip his fingers through those softer ones. “We should go back there sometime. Maybe even take the kids with us this weekend so we can all have breakfast together!”

Satoru masks a snicker with a cough. It reminds him of the time Megumi called you mom and dad by accident, to which you happily responded with before tackling the boy in hugs, while the strongest jujutsu sorcerer only flushed in embarrassment.

Him being him though, Satoru played it off cool, flipping his hair before striking a pose. “Huh, a dad?” he smirks, “The only person who gets to call me daddy would be no one else but Y/N.”

The raven haired first year student immediately recoils in disgust. Meanwhile, the innuendo flies straight through you, and you peer up at him innocently with your head tilted to the side. “Daddy? Why would I call you my dad? My father is still alive and well, and I don’t see you marrying my mom or anything,” Just as Megumi nearly howls in laughter – another evidence that you’re really something else to get the usually stoic boy to lose his composure like that – you snap your fingers, the light bulb above your head practically shining. “Oh, I get it! You prefer younger women and you want them to call you that! Kind of like the hype for onii-chan nowadays.”

Hopeless, Satoru wants to say, you’re absolutely, utterly hopeless.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Satoru shrugs nonchalantly, sending a smirk your way. It usually drives everyone crazy, but you only smile back up at him in the same way you smile with everyone, and he tries his best to not show his shoulders are deflating. Nevertheless, he doesn’t give up. “How about you and I go out somewhere this weekend? The movies, perhaps?”

Say yes, say yes – please say yes.

Really though, he’s waiting for that ‘no’ already. Satoru knows you always go out of town during the weekends to visit your family in the countryside, only coming back on Monday the next week with a basket of fruits and traditional goods that isn’t so easy to find in the city.

But then you clasp your hands together in excitement, lashes fluttering delicately as you beam up at him. “Really? You’d like to go to the movies with me?”

“Of course I would,” Satoru tries not to stutter, hiding the fact that he’s completely taken aback. He’s the Gojo Satoru for heaven’s sake, he shouldn’t be this affected by anyone’s presence. “What makes you think I wouldn’t want to?”

“Oh, nothing, I just thought you were busy. This Saturday, then?”

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, it’s actually happening – his mind was barely functioning at this point, and he even slapped his cheeks to snap him back to life. “I thought there was a fly,” he lied with a chuckle, “But yeah, Saturday. I’ll pick you up?”

“Yeah, sure!”

Satoru wouldn’t stop smiling the whole way to the school. Even when Yuuji had face planted into the ground and Megumi sprained his ankle from training, he wasn’t able to get rid of the ridiculously big smile that stretched across his lips. He’s floating in cloud nine, flowers erupting from his ears and heart-shaped emojis bursting in his background.

“Well, you look creepy,” Shoko commented in the faculty room the moment you excused yourself, “Did you land a date with her or something?”

“That I did,” he stated proudly, even banging his fist on his chest like a deranged form of King Kong.

“I can only hope Y/N makes it out alive,” Nanami announces from behind the newspaper he’s reading, legs crossed over another before he peeks above the paper, narrowed eyes dead set on the blindfolded man. “Don’t be too wild with her, Satoru. She’s a gentle soul despite being a sorcerer – I humbly suggest you don’t mess with her feelings.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s the one messing with my feelings by being so fucking cute all the time!”

“Who’s cute?”

Shoko nearly spits out her coffee the moment you enter, glancing around the room and sitting down next to a shock-still Satoru. Nanami only huffs in his seat with a shake of his head. It doesn’t take long before Satoru regains his confidence and recovers from his shock – he’s turned to you with his torso completely facing your way.

You bask in the attention, mimicking the gesture until your faces are mere inches from one another. The fact you’re so responsive and attentive to him yet still painfully naïve strikes a mental war of himself debating whether he wants to kiss you or knock your head upside down. Satoru chooses neither options as he leans closer, his smile growing wider when you don’t pull away, and he doesn’t stop moving until his lips are right beside the shell of your ear.

“You’re cute.”

Shoko shudders at the same time Nanami just gives up on everything, folding his paper and lying that he’s got someplace to go with Ichiji. Satoru patiently waits for your reaction; for you to crumble this time around.

You’re silent for a moment, brows almost right across each other when you register his words. Satoru ends up holding his breath for your next words, wondering: is this it? will she finally understand what I feel for her now?

Even Shoko ends up sitting at the edge of her seat, silently watching the exchange with interest barely hidden in her sparkling eyes. Satoru watches as your lips open, his eyes transfixed on the way the soft flesh moves. They tilt upwards, revealing a set of a wide smile – the smile he can never get enough of. “Thank you!” you giggle at his compliment, “You and Shoko are very cute too! And the kids too, especially Toge! Not that I’m saying he’s my favourite—”

“He’s definitely your favourite student,” snorts Shoko who is ignoring the way Satoru turns completely gray beside you.

It turns out you still haven’t figured it out after all.

“The kids this – the kids that,” the tall, lanky man whines, his head falling back on the back of the leather couch. He looks so utterly defeated you can’t help but lean over him to check if he’s okay, but Satoru pouts and hides his face under his uniform instead. “Why can it never be just the two of us?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

This time, you’ve kneeled on the couch to hover him. You even pluck one side of his blindfold off to see how he’s doing, and suddenly thankful you can’t see the way his cheeks are absolutely flaming right now. 

“Nothing,” he assures, his smile hidden behind his shirt. You look absolutely adorable hovering over him like that – eyes wide and lips pouty – what he wouldn’t give to kiss those lips right now, but it isn’t the right time, and Satoru just needs to find a better way to tell you how he feels. “It’s nothing.”

It’s absolutely not nothing.

Saturday couldn’t come faster.

Satoru finds himself willing time to go faster. Once the awaited day finally comes, he wastes no time in choosing his best outfit; an oversized black shirt tucked into black skinny jeans before styling his hair up the way he likes.

He winks at his reflection in the mirror, going ooh and aah at how hot he looks. It’s another reason why he can’t comprehend why you don’t like him yet, when, uhm, he knows he looks damn good? He’s pretty funny too – and his strength and power is already a no-brainer. Satoru can’t wrap his head around any possible reason why you wouldn’t like him; it’s basically a life or death mission at this point.

With that end goal in his mind and a spritz of perfume later, Satoru sashays out his apartment. Even though it’s already dark outside and he spent the whole day walking back and forth in his room trying to come up with ways to confess to you, he acts coolly all the way to your apartment.

This time around, he’s more than confident. He’s going to have you wrapped around his pretty little finger, “Wow,” is the first thing he says, pulling his blindfold down just to look at you.

Satoru feels blessed in that exact moment to witness how the heavens took their time with you, creating only the best out of the best and birthing the most magnificent person ever. Suddenly, he grows an urge to run to the countryside and thank your parents for going funky one night and creating you, because you’re an absolutely magnificent gift and it really baffles him how you’re real.

“Wow,” he repeats again, and you chuckle when he shakes his head. “You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you look him up and down, smiling in satisfaction. “You look very handsome yourself.”

Satoru’s been called handsome a million times before that it’s gotten too much in his head already, but hearing it come from your lips hits different. If he was excited before, it’s nothing compared to what he feels now when you loop your arm through his, dangling off his arm like you were a lover.

He knows it’s not real and this is probably just a friendly date for you – something he intends to clear up later – but it doesn’t stop him from puffing his chest up a bit, almost as if bragging to everyone around you that he was the one you’re with, and that he was the one you’re going to the movies with.

All your babbles about everything goes straight into one ear and out the other. He wants to listen to you, he really does, but he’s so intoxicated with your voice that he just ends up nodding at everything you say; his attention mostly on how sweet you sound and smell.

His feelings only intensify a hundred times more when you finally make it to the theatre. Not only is it dark, but you’re sitting right next to him, arms and thighs brushing against each other. He takes note of every little movement you make, smiling to himself when you don’t pull away from his thigh flush against yours.

In this close proximity, your perfume overwhelms his senses. He finds himself leaning closer just to get a little more taste of it, his arm resting on the armrest beside him and placing his cheek on his open palm.

He doesn’t even know what the movie is about. All he can see, hear, feel and recognize is you – nothing and no one but you. Just as he wanted, it’s just the two of you.

Satoru reaches out to the bowl of popcorn in his lap to distract himself from the need of kissing you already. He was so smug that he’s on this date with you; now he feels like the world is laughing and mocking at him because you’re so close yet so far away. The last thing he wants is to say something weird and have you running for the hills. It’s clear you don’t like him, after all.

You end up reaching for it the same time he does, making your fingers brush. It sends a jolt of electricity down his spine and he immediately retracts it.

Looking up at him with an apologetic smile, Satoru knows he’s messed up. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, raising your hands in surrender with a nervous chuckle. “I should’ve gotten my own bowl instead.”

Satoru stares at you through his blindfold. You’re close enough that he can count your lashes – both top and bottom row – and he’s so stupefied at this point that he just says the first thing that comes to his mind; absolutely anything just to get your attention. “Cold,” he shows you his hand, “I’m cold.”

“Oh,” you nod and slip your fingers through his. Satoru nearly gasps at how electrifying the sensation is from having your smaller, softer fingers collide with his, your hands fitting perfectly in his bigger, calloused ones. Then, you close your intertwined hands and smush your cheek with it to transfer your heat – completely unaware that Satoru feels like he’s floating in his own Infinite Void right now. “Feel warmer now?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Extremely.”

Something beast-like wakes within him after that. Now that he knows you don’t mind touching him at all, Satoru can’t help but want to take out all his playing cards and just go fuck it. So he does – and he might regret, he might not – who cares? It’s just the two of you, and you’re the only one he ever cares about this much that he’d pretty much let you do anything at this point.

“You know,” Satoru begins, shifting until your joined hands are resting on top of his chest. His heart is just about ready to burst through its confines at this moment, but he holds back. It’s now or never. “Shoko and Nanami are annoyed that I talk about you all the time.”

Your eyes widen at his statement. “Really? Do you talk badly about me or something?”

“No,” he nearly groans in frustration, “You’re really pretty and cool. You’re amazing during missions, too, when you fight, it’s like I’m witnessing a warrior princess. So cool.”

This makes you laugh until the person sitting behind you rudely shushes you. You bow your head in apology, turning to Satoru with a softer smile this time; one that looks reserved and private compared to your big grins. “Oh, no,” he closes his eyes even behind his blindfold, “Don’t smile at me like that. I don’t think I’ll still be cool if I end up stuttering over my words.”

“Satoru!” you whisper-hiss, although your chest is filled with so much giddiness too that you’ve both forgotten about the movie; unaware that the entire theatre was crying over the main character’s friend’s death. “What are you going on about?”

He wants to laugh so damn hard. He thought confessing his feelings for you would end up in a pitiful heartbreak that you’d be weirded out and push him away. For a moment, he forgets it’s you, and that nothing is ever difficult or painful with you – other than, of course, you being oblivious, but that isn’t something he can’t fix. He’ll get you on the train one way or another.

“I have a confession.”

“Yeah?”

“I was practicing how to ask you out for a whole hour in the mirror,” Satoru whispers, careful to not ruin the melancholic mood of theatre. It doesn’t even surprise him that his world is filled with nothing but sunshine even if the world around you has descended into grief and loneliness. “I also called Nanami on first date tips.”

“Nanami?” you echo with a gasp, “Why Nanami?”

“Because he’s married, that’s why. Mans know some tips for sure.”

“Wait, so,” you chuckle nervously, and Satoru waits, waits for you to pull away or push him back – anything that would indicate discomfort. He’s patient the whole time, watching carefully as you only squeeze his hand and gesture to the both of you with your free one. “This is a date? Our first date?”

“Only if you want to be,” Satoru shrugs, grimacing afterwards at how sappy he sounds. “Well, I actually consider this our first date and I’ve been waiting for this for like forever now, so I sure as hell hope you want this too. I didn’t dress myself up today only to come back home crying.”

Satoru’s heart – if possible – only beats crazier and sings the syllables of your name when you start laughing harder to the point you have to muffle it by burying yourself in his bicep. He feels like his muscles and nerves could erupt at any moment. It’s crazy – absolutely insane – how you have him wrapped around your finger like this. He doesn’t complain though; he never will.

“I’m glad,” you mumble through his shirt, your erratic heartbeat matching kiss when you take the first tentative step of kissing his jaw.

Satoru stiffens underneath you, a low growl ripping from his throat. He’s feral, wild, drunk at the sight and scent of you. You make him feel like he’s fluctuating between dimensions, all the planets just crashing on one another until the stardust is left in your eyes because what else could be an explanation for what he’s feeling other than a supernova collision of hearts?

“You always make me feel so happy when you’re around that I still can’t believe you feel the same way. I was so worried that maybe you wouldn’t get my hints.”

Satoru groans, “What the hell? How long have you liked me?”

“I guess when you started bringing flowers to Megumi randomly just to piss him off.”

Satoru wants to rip his hair out. That was just a few weeks after you’ve started working with him, meaning you both have liked each other this whole time and he’s been suffering and feeling stupid just for nothing?

“God, Y/N,” he mutters to himself, “You really do know how to make a man go crazy, huh?”

That innocent smile on your face lets him know that as usual, you’re oblivious of everything. Satoru is right; he still can’t decide whether he wants to whack you in the head upside down. With a sigh, he ends up choosing the latter, nearly falling over his seat when you let out a surprised yelp at the feeling of his lips on yours.

It doesn’t take long before you grab onto his shirt and cling to dear life, laughter bubbling through your lips as you kiss. The sound is so precious he wants to bottle it up and keep it treasure for the rest of his life, but Satoru doesn’t rush anything.

With you and only with you is he ever capable of feeling like it’s just the two of you in a world filled with chaos and destruction.

[laulink]

People, picture this : Edelthea modern reincarnation AU, except that both of them remember their past lives, but no one else around them does.

That means that they both try to live normal lives up until the day they meet ; then, they decide to try and rekindle the flame of their love, assuming the other doesn’t remember them, but very quickly figure out that the other DOES remember, which is a relief because that means they can just pick their relationship back up where they left it off in their past lives.

When they died of old age.

A thousand years ago.

After being married for 50 FUCKING YEARS.

Which means that their friends and family see them meet, fall in love, start dating and start acting like an old married couple in the span of, like, a month, two at best.

It freaks them out.

First week in the relationship, Dorothea is hanging out at Edelgard’s place, except that she’s still living with her family (all ten siblings and all six parents because polyamory is a thing in our modern day as well) and she had a very urgent, very unplanned video call starting just after Dorothea got there, so because Dorothea is a loving wife who remembers all too well how hard-working her Edie was as an Emperor, she lets her get to her call and goes to brew her some tea in the way she knows Edie loves her tea to be brewed, aka bergamot tea with two and a half teaspoons of cinnamon put in the teapot before adding the water, which you have to take off the heat right before it starts boiling, then leave the tea to infuse for two and a half minutes instead of the regular three to five and add three sugar cubes. 

Papa Ionius is in the kitchen for the whole process and is floored because his definition of brewing tea is put a tea bag in cup, pour boiling water, let rest for five minutes (or thirty if you forget about it) and curse the tea for being so bitter before adding five sugar cubes (he never understood Edelgard’s weird way of brewing her tea, especially since she’s been making her tea like that since she was 6 and never tried any other way. He’s starting to wonder if this is tea sorcery or something).

Dorothea also brings her girlfriend/wife an assortment of tea cakes and, of course, only selects Edelgard’s favourite from the ones she can find in the kitchen. Advises Papa Ionius to visit the bakery two streets over and buy their macarons because they’re delicious and one of Edie’s favourite. The man sits there rethinking his worth as a father for half an hour.

Dorothea is, once more, a Songstress for the Mittelfrank Opera Company and uses her salary to help her mother pay the bills since her father never recognised her as his child and doesn’t give them any money (as a parallel for her game backstory and because I want her mom to be alive). She’s close with Manuela who is a music teacher at Enbarr’s University and former Songstress herself. The first time (in this life) that Edelgard and Manuela meet each other since Edelgard and Dorothea started dating is for one of Dorothea’s representation : they sit next to each other during the opera and chat about the performance during the intermission between two acts. Except that... Well...

“Dorothea’s voice is as gorgeous as ever... Though I think this role’s lines are a bit too high-pitched : she really shines the best when she can drop her voice for deeper tones, like when she played the villain in “The Immaculate One”. (I am no singer, I have no idea what I’m talking about)

“... Edelgard, the Mittelfrank hasn’t performed this play in at least three hundred years.”

“... She sung the villain lines for me not too long ago.”

Edelgard’s family never owned animals and generally stayed away from them because a few members have allergies to cats, dogs, horses... So the first time Dorothea mentions Edelgard’s love for cats, they are all floored, even more so when Dorothea shows Edelgard a compilation of cute/funny cat videos she made just for her Edie and the family sees her eyes sparkle like they never have before.

Edelgard’s older sister is certain Dorothea is playing some sort of double game because there’s no way she learned that much about Edelgard in just two weeks

“Admit it, you’ve been stalking her, right ?”

“I assure you Estella, I was studying in Enbarr the whole year Edie was in Garreg Mach, and you know how much she posts on social media. I really didn’t know anything about her until we met at the university.” (liar)

The Black Eagles and their classmates from their former lives also don’t know what to make of the relationship, since most of them have known Edelgard their entire lives, have never seen her date anyone and are now discovering a completely new side of her while she acts like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Edelgard, how about we study together for this exam next evening ?”

“Sorry Ferdinand, it’s Dorothea’s birthday, I booked us a table at The Fisher’s Net.”

“The Fisher’s Net ?! Even I have to call two weeks in advance to get a table there !”

“Of course, it’s one of the best restaurants in the whole city. By the way, I’m picking up her birthday gift later today from that jeweller you recommanded on Main Street, want to go with me ?”

“... Edelgard, you two have been dating for only a month, right ?”

“Yes, why ?”

“... Nothing. I planned to ask you two to come with me to that new restaurant downtown on Sunday, would that work for you ?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dorothea doesn’t like seafood.”

“... You remembered that in only a month of knowing her, yet still can’t remember my dog’s race even though you’ve known her for ten years.”

“I don’t care for dogs.”

The first time they do a movie night with the Beagles, half the team is convinced those two are telepaths because to choose the movie they communicate through nothing but eyebrow movements, hums and nods and later, as the movie is playing, they keep throwing each other smirks and meaningful glances and dissolving into laughter at apparently random moments.

(that’s because the movie they ended up watching was an cinematic adaptation of the opera Dorothea wrote about Edelgard and the war, so they looked at each other, shook their heads and/or laughed whenever one of their friends’ characters’ would do something “out of character” or reference an inside joke or something)

There’s a concept there : a ship fic where you follow the point of view of the side characters looking in on the relationship, without any other context than what they know, or think to know, about the ship, except that the readers actually know more than the POV characters and are able to make sense of the things that leave the POV characters utterly confused.

An idea to keep in a folder somewhere.